Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
MAX
The days are passing like a gorgeous dream.
Sara called once, but she sounded distracted and kept even her conversation with Jason brief.
To me, she gave the good news, her mother was responding well to the treatment, but it was like talking to a stranger.
I had nothing in common with her. It was hard to even think that we were lovers once.
Once the strange call was over, I put the phone down and forgot her.
Instantly, I went back to feeling as if I were living in a heaven on earth.
Like now… I’m seated in the studio with Amelia.
My laptop is open and I’m scrolling through my emails.
And Amelia’s across the room, perched on a stool in front of her easel, her blonde hair is up in a ponytail high on top of her head.
Every time she turns her head it catches the light like spun gold.
Her brush moves quickly and expertly as she works on a brand-new painting.
Jason is also here with us, though he is asleep on the rug.
His chest moves with peaceful evenness. It's all so serene, but my chest is tight with a knot of dread that grows heavier each day. Sara’s coming home soon—too soon—and this bliss, this stolen life with Amelia, will end.
I hate it, hate the thought of losing her, of going back to the hollow routine of my loveless marriage of convenience.
My fingers pause on the keyboard. The truth is, I can’t let go, but I don’t know what to do.
Don’t know how to keep this dream alive without breaking everything I’ve built.
An email catches my eye. It is an invitation forwarded by Lisa for a charity gala downtown.
And it’s tomorrow night. Black tie, some swanky hotel ballroom, the kind of event I’d usually skip.
But an idea hits me: I want to go out with Amelia, not just hide in this house, stealing moments in the dark.
I want to see her in the world, on my arm, even if it’s a lie we’re living.
My pulse quickens, a reckless thrill mixing with fear, and I glance at her.
She’s lost in her painting, her lips slightly parted, a smudge of green paint on her forearm. She’s so beautiful it hurts, a deep ache in my bones. I’m desperate to hold onto it, to make every second count before it’s ripped away.
I stand, my chair scraping softly on the hardwood, and cross the room. She looks up, her witch’s green eyes catching mine. A smile tugs at her lips, soft and warm. My heart stumbles, love and dread tangling, and I stand next to the easel.
“Hey,” I say, voice low. “Got a second?”
She sets her brush down and wipes her hands on a rag. “Sure, what’s up?” Her voice is husky, teasing, but there’s a curiosity in her eyes.
I pull my phone from my pocket, open the email, and hold it out, the screen glowing between us. She takes the phone.
“There’s this charity gala tomorrow night,” I say, keeping my tone casual, though my heart’s racing.
“Fancy hotel, black tie, the whole deal. I want you to come with me. Be my secret date.” The words feel bold, dangerous, a line I shouldn’t cross, but I can’t stop.
I want her in my world, even if it’s just for one night.
Her eyes widen, surprise flashing, then hesitation.
She bites her lip, a gesture that sends a jolt through me, and leans closer, her loose top shifting, revealing the curve of her shoulder.
“Is that safe?” she asks, voice soft with caution, but there’s a thrill in it, a spark that matches mine. “I mean… people will see us together.”
I grin and recklessly lean in, my hand brushing her arm, the touch electric. “And what if they do? I’m going with my half-sister,” I say, voice low, teasing, though the word sister cuts me like a rusty blade.
“Hmmm…”
“I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise. No one will guess.” My thumb grazes her skin, lingering, and I see her breath catch, her cheeks flushing pink.
She laughs, a soft, nervous sound, but her eyes light up with the thought.
“Go on. Say yes,” I urge.
“Yes, okay. Why not?” she says, voice warm, a smile spreading.
“I’ve got this emerald dress in my closet that Sara persuaded me to buy that I’ve been dying to wear.
” Her voice catches on Sara’s name, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she pushes it away, her smile holding firm.
My heart twists, not with guilt. I feel no guilt, only pain that she feels guilty to be with me.
“Perfect. You’ll look stunning,” I murmur, my hand sliding to her cheek, cupping it, my thumb brushing the paint smudge. Her skin is soft and warm, and I want to kiss her, to pull her into me, but I hold back because of Jason.
I smile and she smiles back shyly.
She has no idea how much I need to see her in that dress, to have her on my arm, to pretend for one night that she’s mine. It’s like the promise of more, just one more special and unforgettable moment between us before Sara’s return shatters everything.