Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I stumble forward, thinking quickly. “Did you see where it went?”
“Excuse me?” His brows are nearly touching.
“There was…a little kitten. I thought maybe it came in here.”
He shakes his head, lines drawn deep around his eyes.
“I didn’t see a…kitten, no. I heard the door shut and realized I forgot to latch it.
I thought it was the wind.” He waves his hand.
“Come out of there now. You’ll end up hurt.
Rachelle’s going to have a fit when she sees that dress.
” His voice is still soft, even as he scolds me.
He doesn’t sound angry. Stressed, maybe. But there’s nothing sharp in his tone.
Regret swarms in my head like bees near a hive, until I can’t think of anything else.
I lift my dress gently, stepping over the boxes on my way back toward him. “Sorry, I just…I needed some air, and I saw the kitten. She’s around here somewhere.”
I can’t tell if he believes me, but he glances around anyway before shaking his head.
“We’ve found a few strays in the woods occasionally.
We’ll keep an eye out. We should get back to the party, though.
Before they miss us.” He holds out a hand, catching mine to keep me from tripping as he ushers me out of the shed.
Once I’m safely outside, he shuts the door back and clicks the Master Lock into place.
Was that here yesterday?
We make the rest of the trek back to the house in suspicious silence, my mind an endless loop of questions and worries. Once we reach the driveway, he leads me inside through the garage. “You’d probably better clean up before anyone sees you.”
And with that, he’s gone, moving back toward the low hum of music in the living room. I turn the opposite direction, heading for the stairs.
The hallway is mostly empty, except for a man coming from the bathroom, drying his hands on the sides of his slacks, and two young women huddled around a phone, the blue light illuminating their faces. I jog up the stairs and to our bedroom, stopping to look at myself in the mirror.
The sight is enough to draw the breath from my lungs. My hair is flat and sweaty, stuck to my head. My beautiful satin gown is now soaked in patches of sweat, with flecks and smears of grays and browns near the bottom hem and along the back.
Reality comes crashing down on me at once, slamming into my chest with the weight of Morning House itself. My knees go weak, and I feel as if I may vomit.
I lift a trembling hand to my chest, my hair.
What was I thinking?
How on earth am I ever going to explain this?
“Astrid?”
The voice comes from behind me, and I glance up at the mirror as Simon walks into view. His eyes take me in, his face paling. “What happened to you?”
I spin around, words boiling over. “I have so much to tell you.” I grab hold of his blazer, unsure of where to begin, of how to break this terrible news. I should wait. Maybe if I’d had more time, I could. But now, it’s impossible. He needs to know. I need to get it out of me.
His eyes widen. “Are you okay?”
“It’s not me. It’s…Preston and Vic. They’re…”
His Adam’s apple bobs.
“I’m so sorry.” It’s vomit, and I have to get it out. I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to. “They’re having an affair. I saw them together at the guest house.”
His head jerks back. “When?”
“Just now.”
“What were you doing at the guest house?”
The floor falls out from underneath me. “That’s your question right now?”
He looks away, licking his lips. Slowly, he blinks. Then again. His head tilts sideways. “I…look, it’s not really…surprising.”
It’s as if I’ve been doused with ice water. This is all news to me.
He must read the horror on my face. He shifts his weight, clearing his throat.
His hands move to tug at his collar, his sleeves.
Finally, his eyes meet mine. “I only mean, okay, this is between us, but it’s just that, well, Preston and Polly were sort of set up when we were young.
To be married. Her family is in business with mine, and it always made sense…
for the legacy, you know? They weren’t so much in love as they were… under contract.”
“It was an arranged marriage.” I can’t breathe, can’t believe what I’m hearing. I need to sit down. I feel for the bed behind me, but Simon takes hold of my arm, keeping me steady.
“I…well, we never called it that. But I guess so. Preston was always going to take over and inherit Morning Capital and everything that comes with it. Mom and Dad had to know it was going to be safe in the hands of whoever married into that. Even with an ironclad prenup, it mattered.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes trained on the air, looking at everything and nothing all at once.
“I guess we all sort of assume they’re both having affairs.
” He’s quick to add, “But not with Vic. Obviously. That’s…
not going to work. I’ll talk to Dad. We’ll get it sorted. ”
I feel sick. Really, truly, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Beneath me, my legs tremble, my skin cold and clammy.
Oh, yep. I’m, yep, I’m actually going to be?—
I bolt for the toilet, stomach roiling. I tip up the lid with seconds to spare, my entire body convulsing as I drop to my knees.
My skin is drenched in clammy sweat, my muscles trembling with adrenaline.
My throat burns and my eyes line with tears.
Simon is close behind me, holding my hair and stroking my back as I empty the contents of my stomach, painting the clear water dark brown.
My body aches somewhere deep. I want it to end. I just want it to end.
When I’m finished, when it feels like there’s not an ounce of energy or food left on this planet, let alone in my guts, he hands me a warm, wet cloth. I rest my face against the cool plastic of the toilet seat, too tired to care how disgusting it is.
Simon sinks to the floor next to me, his legs on either side of my body as he brushes my hair back from my face.
I’m gross, I smell terrible, and I don’t really care.
He wipes my forehead with a clean cloth, pressing the back of his hand to my skin to check for a fever.
“Do you feel bad again? Or was it something you ate?”
I blink, my head heavy. Fuzzy. I lift it slowly. “No. It wasn’t anything I ate, Simon. I… How can you be okay with this? With cheating? And affairs? You don’t think they’re big deals?” Simon has never given me any reason to doubt him, but now I don’t know what to believe.
“Of course they’re big deals in most circumstances.”
“But not this one.”
His eyes dance between mine. “They never loved each other, honey. It wasn’t like that. Neither of them cares.”
I dab at the corner of my mouth again. “What about Duncan? He and Vic…”
“No,” Simon says quickly. “No, they’re real. It was never a setup between them.” He looks up toward the ceiling, blowing air from his lips. The scent of champagne hits me squarely in the face. “He’s going to be…” He can’t seem to find the right word.
I drop my head against my arm, now propped up against his knee. “He’ll be devastated.”
“More likely pissed.”
“You can’t tell them until after the wedding. We can’t let this ruin things for Marlie.” I lift up to stare at him again, making sure he’s listening.
He gives a small bob of his head. “Yeah, okay.”
“Look, there’s probably a better way to bring this up, but I’m sick and gross, and I really don’t care right now. There’s a box in the shed with my name on it,” I tell him, my eyes closed, head throbbing. “Do you know what it is?”
“In the guest house?”
“No, the shed.”
When I look up at him, his face is blank. “You went back.”
“I needed to clear my head. After…seeing them.”
His brows jerk upward with a look that says he doesn’t blame me for that. He puffs a breath from his lips again. “It could’ve been anything. Probably a box left over from our wedding or Christmas or something.”
I bite my bottom lip, huffing out a breath of my own from my nose. “Okay.”
But I don’t believe it. I can’t. Everything I thought I knew about this family is slowly crashing down around me.
“I’m not going back to the party,” I whisper, my lips barely moving.
He strokes my head again, his voice faint. Sad. “I know.”