Page 19 of Chasing the Flame
She says nothing, and I nearly kick my own ass for the tears that start spilling down her face. I keep adding to the pain she’s already experiencing. I don’t want that. I’m fucking this up.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, turning back toward the house.
I walk away from her, hating myself for every fucking step I take and every breath that enters my lungs. Deep down, I know this is for the best. Averie Blackthorne and I can never happen, so it’s best to pull the plug now and make it clear that I have zero interest in claiming her.
It’s a fucking lie and I know it.
When I return to my section of the house, Averie has already cleared the yard. Scooping low, she snatches her blanket before tossing a dejected look over her shoulder in my direction. With her items in hand, she makes her way back to the house with her head held high, but I can see how Averie’s shoulders shake a little, and how she seems to droop further with every step she makes toward the front door. When she’s safely inside, the door slams behind her, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “This is for the best,” I say, trying to remind myself before I go after her.
Who am I trying to convince anyway? Myself? Or her?
I’ve been hiding in this fucking house for two days, avoiding Jettson and his crew like they have the plague. I would say the solitude is pleasant, but it really isn’t. No, it’s more like the embarrassment that’s been embedded in my chest has sent me into an anxiety tailspin that I can’t quite seem to shake. The foreboding feeling has come back full force, and I suspect it has to do with tonight’s dinner.
It seems like Luke always knows when I’m about to be pushed to my breaking point. He’s pulled back his usual snide comments, deciding to play the charming husband since yesterday evening. It almost makes me wonder where this man has been hiding, because it reminds me of the man I fell in love with over five years ago. It was only when Luke called me from the office this morning that I realized he had another ulterior motive.
Luke wasn’t being kind because he loves me or felt bad about his actions. Or the fact that he’s gaslighting me about the strange noises I keep hearing.
No, he was simply giving me time to get my shit together so he could push the next uncomfortable situation on me.
Namely, a fancy dinner at the only restaurant intown—The Gilded Oak.
It’s a dinner where he plans to mingle with some corporate bigwigs who are coming to inspect the work he’s been doing over the last week.
I know what Luke expects of me: silent, obedient, the pretty housewife who looks good on his arm. Tonight is a show, one that is meant to put him on display and elevate their opinion of him. He’s looking for me to sweeten the pot by pretending to be interested in the gentleman’s conversations, while catering to the wives they’ll likely bring with them.
It’ll be an insufferable night, and I’m sure it will end in disaster. Fear has run rampant in my mind, and I haven’t been able to quiet the intrusive thoughts that seem to hit at the worst possible moments.
Like now, I’m fresh out of the shower, and all I can think about is how Luke will get drunk, and I’ll end up having to drive us home. Then, he’ll be an ass for the rest of the evening over something innocent I’ve said or done. It’s a cycle we never seem to break, and it gets increasingly volatile for me. Begging doesn’t work anymore. It’s better just to take the abuse than to try to get him to stop. It never ends well for me anyway.
Shuddering, I release a shaky breath before looking myself head-on in the mirror. My typically fiery locks are damp from the shower, my eyes dull and dead-looking. My bottom lip quivers, and I allow myself several minutes of crying before shaking my head, tugging the towel tighter against my frame, and heading straight for our bedroom.
My walk-in closet is enormous, filled with designer labels, more clothes and shoes than I even know what to do with. I don’t wear half of this anymore. My fingers graze along the delicate fabrics of silk, chiffon, satins, and furs, all a distant memory of another life. I land on the perfect cocktail dress, a sleek emerald green number that falls just below my knees. It’s modest yet classy, and it shows off my curves in all the right ways without being vulgar.
I pair it with a gold set of slingback heels, several gold bangles, and my favorite diamond stud earrings. Once my outfit choice is selected, I fix my hair and makeup. I never apply much. I often prefer a natural look, as my complexion is one of my favorite things about myself. I love the freckles that dust my nose and cheeks and never want to detract from them. So, mascara, a hint of blush, and a deep red lip is all I choose.
Once my hair is curled, I finish getting dressed and grab my velvety gold handbag, heading toward the front door. Luke is already waiting for me, dressed in a crisp black suit and a hunter green tie. It looks like we fucking planned this and my stomach twists, my nerves taking over the show.
“You look beautiful, pet.”
His gaze lands on my outfit, taking in every bit of my ensemble. I wait, knowing from experience that I'll be expected to change if something doesn’t meet his approval. After a moment, he nods, and I grant him a small smile, glad I’ve done nothing to anger him so early in the night. “Thank you,” I murmur, taking his outstretched hand.
He leads me out of the front door and down the steps to his black Armada, opening the passenger side door for me. He’s buttering me up for something, though I’m not sure what. Once I’m in the car, he slides into the driver’s seat, and we head down the road toward the woods that separate us from the city of Liberty.
The ride to The Gilded Oak is quiet, the car seeping with a tension that I can’t quite put a name to. It’s a thick quiet, settling into my stomach with a deep sense of trepidation, sending a tremor down my spine. The rest of the drive into town passes by in a blur, as I try to quell the growing anxiety pooling in my belly.
I can’t shake the feeling that this dinner means something important. Though try as I might, I can’t pinpoint what it is. All too soon, we come onto the main road and find ourselves in Liberty.
Brick buildings line Main Street, and they’ve seen better days. A bunch of small businesses that’ll barely stay afloat as it is in this economy.
I catch titles like Mae’s Necessities, Dawn’s Dog Grooming, and Tonia’s Hair and Nail Salon Emporium. The last one makes me smile, and I wonder if I’ll have time to schedule a manicure this week. There’s a post office, a town hall in the center of the town square, and the grand staircase is utterly charming.
It reminds me of that famous movie, the one with Michael J. Fox and that guy with the crazy white hair. It has an antiquated charm, and I find myself enchanted with the old-fashioned street lights and signs.
We stop in front of a restaurant that looks out of place in this small town. Classy and elegant is an understatement, and I feel ridiculously underdressed. The building is nestled in a grove of trees that tower above it, providing the perfect canopy of shade in the evening light. Dark wood, iron railings, and metal light fixtures give the restaurant a rustic but modern feel.
After we park, I hop out of the car, not bothering to wait for Luke. Grabbing my smartphone, I snap photos of the gorgeous backdrop before me.
“Come along,” Luke says, his voice lethally quiet.
