Page 4 of Duress
When Everly turns around, she’s biting her bottom lip in worry. “So, Bryce is caught up at work, and he doesn’t know when he will be able to leave.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn toward the door, my anger threatening to get the better of me. My boiling frustration is immediately squashed when Everly says, “Will you still stay? I could use the company. Bryce has been working a lot of long hours lately.” My heart softens when I see the pleading look in her eyes, and I know I can’t say no to her.
“Sure, I’ll stay.”
“Wait,so you’re telling me these frat bros actually thought Serena was a stripper they ordered?” Everly cheeks are flushed from a combination of wine and laughter as I recount the story of one of mine and Serena’s recent noise disturbance calls. The bottle of wine sits on the table between us, mostly empty. The pool lights reflecting off of Everly’s face give her an ethereal glow.
“Yeah, and she played right into it too, walking in and giving the boys that stern cop look and telling them they’ve been very bad. I was standing on the porch off to the side, so they didn’t see me at first. I wanted to see how she’d handle it. But one of the drunk Chaddington McDouchebros reached out to try to undo her top, so she put him in a standing arm lock. Then she told him he was under arrest for assaulting a police officer, and suddenly they didn’t have any trouble turning down the music.”
“I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in that room.” There is a note of admiration in her voice. From what I’ve gathered during our conversations tonight, Bryce works a lot, and Everly doesn’t have many close friends. Just a few other attorneys’ wives she’s forced to socialize with to keep up appearances for Bryce. There is an air of loneliness to her, and it breaks my goddamn heart.
“You’d love Serena. You should come over for game night sometime. She hosts one weekly. It can get a little rowdy, and more than a little cutthroat, but it’s a good time.”
Ever’s smile falters at my invitation, like she’d love nothing more than to accept it, but can’t. The idea of her sitting in this big house alone, or forcing smiles around people she doesn’t like, kills me. I reach across the table and grab her hand, emphasizing how serious I am about my invitation. “The next game night is Thursday. I’ll send you her address, and if you want to come, you can. There’s always plenty of food, and someone is always bringing a new friend to join. It won’t be weird.” She gives me a small nod, and I squeeze her hand before letting go. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s nearly eleven and Bryce still isn’t home.
“Shit, it’s getting late. I need to go soon. Does Bryce normally work this late?” I can’t stay forever, but I don’t love the idea of leaving Everly alone either.
“Sometimes. I usually get bored waiting up for him and go to bed. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. It’s fine if you need to go.” She gives me a helplesswhat can you do?shrug and another crack forms in my heart. My fucking spoiled asshole brother has no idea what an amazing woman he has waiting for him at home. My first instinct is to stay and keep her company until he gets home, then give him a piece of my mind, but her next words put a stop to that particular train of thought.
“You should probably go. I am tired, and Bryce might think it’s weird if you’re still here when he gets home. I’ll just go to bed. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” Everly stands, collecting the wine glasses to take them back inside. I open the patio door for her and follow her inside the house as she deposits the glasses in the expensivelooking stainless steel dishwasher. She walks me to the front door, and I lose the fight against the impulse to hug her. I pull her in for a quick hug and drop a chaste kiss to the top of her head.
“I’ll text you the details about game night. I hope you come; I think you’d really like Serena. Lock the door when I leave.” Bryce and Everly live in a gated community. I know she’ll be fine, but the idea of her being here all alone still worries me.
“Yes, sir.” She gives me a playful salute, but hearing those two words come out of her mouth shoots a jolt of arousal straight to my dick. Great, I know what I’ll be thinking about when I rub one out tonight.
When the door closes behind me, I wait a beat to hear the lock engage before walking to my car. On the drive home, I realize I’m not even that mad about Bryce blowing me off. I’m just wondering how I can have more nights like this with Everly.
CHAPTER 4
EVERLY
“You are so insanely talented, Ever. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”
The memory of Dane’s rough fingers resting gently on my pulse point as he stared into my soul and told me I am talented plays on a loop in my mind. The ease of our conversation. How free he was with his compliments. How sincere. His gentle touch. His smell. Sandalwood with a hint of something citrusy. The way he looked at me like he saw me. Truly saw me.
The shrill whistle of the tea kettle pulls me from my reverie, startling me back into reality. My cold, lonely, reality. Pulling the kettle from the heat, I pour it into my favorite mug, one of the first hand-thrown pieces I made. It’s slightly lumpy, there’s a weird dip in the lip, and it wobbles just slightly, but it fits into my hands perfectly and it is a reminder of how far I’ve come with my art. In my life. It’s not perfect, but it’s still useful. That’s how I like to think of myself.
Bryce got home last night after midnight. I was lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, when he came into our bedroom. I didn’t want to deal with his excuses, or his questions about Dane. I also didn’t want to know if he smelled likeher. The real reason I suspect he didn’t come home until late last night. I don’t have proof that he’s having an affair. Only suspicion. But there have been signs. More late nights working. The strange perfume on his dress shirts. The mysterious calls he won’t take in front of me that he claims are work related.
Honestly, I don’t even care if he has an affair. I haven’t felt love for my husband in a very long time, but leaving isn’t an option. Not with our…history.I don’t think he loves me either. To him, I’m a trophy. A pretty, shiny trophy he displays when convenient and neglects most of the time.
“Damn, Ever. Wow. That’s good. Great. Fucking amazing. Really.”
My cheeks heat again as Dane’s forest green eyes flash in my mind. The way he honestly looked impressed by my painting made my heart skip a beat. Bryce hasn’t spared my art more than a passing glance in years, unless he has to pretend to be impressed by it in front of clients.
Taking my tea, I venture into my studio to begin my day. I have a few pieces I need to finish glazing. I used to do art therapy when I was fresh out of college, but Bryce didn’t like the idea of me working. He said, “No wife of mine will ever need to work.” And so…I don’t. I stay at home and work on my art. Sometimes I sell a piece. Or have something on display at the local gallery. But most of my work languishes in my studio.
I think he thought I would stay home and raise our children, but after ten years of marriage and trying, I’ve never gotten pregnant. The doctors haven’t found an explanation for my infertility, and honestly, I consider it a blessing. The idea of bringing a child into our loveless marriage turns my stomach. I would never subject a child to the type of childhood I had growing up. I wouldn’t want them to settle for the first pretty boy that shows them some kindness, tying them to a narcissist for the rest of their life.
My phone dings with an incoming text message just as I put my last piece into the kiln. Picking it up, I’m surprised to find a text notification from Dane staring me in the face. Why would he be texting me? I swipe my thumb across the lock screen, opening the message.
Dane
Game night tomorrow. 7 sharp. 615 Bloom St. Bring your A game. Hope you can make it. Serena is looking forward to meeting you.
I bite my lower lip, fighting the smile that is threatening to break free. Why is an innocent text message from my brother-in-law, inviting me to game night, causing me to feel like a giddy teenager? Maybe because his brother hasn’t shown any interest in me beyond what I can do for his public reputation or the favors I can help him get from my dad.
My mind conjures up what a game night with Dane and his friends would look like. Would he be competitive? Carefree? Would those dimples of his make an appearance? Would his friends welcome me? Friends. God. What a novel concept. I had friends at one point, back in college. Back before I let Bryce consume my whole life. Now I have acquaintances. Fellow attorneys’ wives that meet for boozy lunches. That talk about the tuition costs for their kids’ private schools, or the trips they take with their husbands, and gossip about how one of their husband’s got so-and-so off from serving time for silly charges like DUI or domestic violence.
