Page 111 of Dual
The words echo in my head, sharp and poisonous. I didn’t mean them. Not really. But I was so angry, so hurt, so goddamn tired of the lies and half-truths.
But it’s not her I hate.
I’ve only ever reserved that right for my abuser… and naturally, for myself.
“Why are you having this shower so early, anyway?” Quinn asks. “Aren’t you supposed to wait until you’re about to pop?”
“I never understood that,” Kira says. “Why not have it now before I’m too big to enjoy it with swollen ankles and everything else that comes at the end of pregnancy?” She shudders. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”
Quinn gives her a side hug. “You’re going to be a super-star at being a mom.”
“Anybody seen Moira?” I ask, scanning the room. Better to focus on someone else’s problems. And my sister certainly qualifies as a problem these days.
Kira sits up straighter in her chair, her hand going to her barely-there bump. “She was supposed to be here already.”
“She on a sex-bender again?” Isaak asks, appearing at Kira’s side, his sharp gaze locking onto mine.
There’s judgment there, and I feel my jaw tighten. How easy it is for them all to judge Moira, when none of them have the first fucking clue what she’s been through. What we’ve been through. And unlike my wife, at least my sister is consistent in her chaos.
“She started spiraling when I told her about the baby at lunch earlier,” Kira says, her voice quieter now. “She totally shut me down when I asked what was wrong.” Then she looks my way. “Is she any more open to going into treatment?”
My jaw tightens. The concern in her voice chafes against my raw nerves. I want to tell her to mind her own business,that Moira’s problems are for family to handle. But then, isn’t that what got us here? My stubborn insistence on handling everything myself?
“I doubt it,” I bite out, turning on my heel and striding toward the food table. I need to move. To do something with this restless energy.
I pile a plate high with food I have no intention of eating, listening to the murmured conversations around me. Everyone’s so fucking happy, wrapped in their perfect little lives, while mine is fracturing at the seams.
I find myself circling back to Kira and the others, driven by some masochistic need to appear normal. To pretend I’m not waiting for the phone to ring, for Mads to come to her senses and come home.
“Where’s Anna?” Kira asks when I return, a genuine smile on her face.
For a moment, the question floors me. Where is Anna? I don’t even know anymore. Is she hiding inside Mads? Is Mads hiding inside her? Have I lost them both? The grief hits me like a wave, threatening to pull me under.
“She was so sorry to miss today,” I manage, waving my fork in what I hope is a casual gesture. “She wasn’t feeling well.”
Quinn smirks. “Too bad. I know that girl is baby crazy. She would eat this shit up.”
I force a smile, but my grip on the fork tightens until my knuckles go white. She would, wouldn’t she? Anna would be all soft smiles and teary eyes, cooing over the tiny clothes andbaby gadgets. She’d lean in close when someone told a story about their birth experience, soaking up every detail like a sponge. She’d be thinking about our own future and the family we’d planned to build together.
The fork bends in my hand, and I set it down before I break it entirely.
I listen as Marcus and Quinn launch into an argument about parenthood, grateful for the distraction. Their bickering is familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. I wonder if they know how much their constant tension looks like foreplay. Probably not. They’re both too stubborn to admit what’s obvious to everyone else.
My phone remains silent in my pocket, a dead weight.
The minutes crawl by. I make the appropriate noises when spoken to, nod at the right moments, and even laugh when expected. But all the while, I’m counting the seconds, fighting the urge to leave, to go home and see if she’s returned. To call every hospital in the city. To check every place we’ve ever been together.
When I was seventeen, I lost her the first time. I spent years drowning my grief in meaningless sex and building my empire brick by bloody brick just to keep from thinking about her. When I found her again—when Anna foundme—I swore I’d never let her go. That nothing would tear us apart again.
And now she’s gone. Again.
We were supposed to be unbreakable this time
The front doors slam open, jarring me from my thoughts.
A man wearing a priest’s collar storms in, his face twisted with fury. Moira’s date from the Christmas party.
Quinn pops up from her chair, visibly alarmed. “Bane! What’s wrong?”
