Chapter 25
ROXY
The prestigious Annual Nashville Civic Gala arrived a few days later, a grand celebration of community, culture, and the arts.
I was due to receive a major art award for the Upcoming Artist category, a milestone that should have filled me with pure joy.
Instead, I was a bundle of nerves, still unsure of how much to share with Angel about the fact that he was about to be a father.
What stopped me every time was how distant and aloof he was.
Plus my fear that he’d reject not only me but the child I was carrying.
I wasn’t sure when to tell him, but it needed to be when things weren’t so tense between us.
Angel and the Six Sinners were also receiving an award for their massive philanthropic contributions to the city via their charity, The Sanctuary.
The ceremony was to be splashed all over the local entertainment news and social media.
I was working on one of my canvases in my home studio when Di called to make sure we’d both be present and dressed to the nines.
‘For the photos,’ she trilled before she rang off.
I groaned out loud after hanging up.
I was so over her and Reese’s ongoing, pesky requests for Angel and me to act as the perfect, smiling faces of the Rosedale Group.
The clown circus continues, I thought to myself as I threw more paint on a surface, taking out my frustration in streaks of black and navy oil paints.
At five p.m., Angel arrived, his tires crunching on the gravel.
My heart jolted as he called out from the hallway.
‘Rox, I’m home and going straight to change.’
‘I’ll get ready too,’ I answered, wrapping up downstairs as I caught the sound of his shower turning on in the primary bathroom.
Forty-five minutes later, Angel prowled into the doorway to my room, leaning on the open doorjamb.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo, black shirt, and glossy black formal Oxfords.
His thick hair was swept back, a few rebel strands framing his sculpted forehead.
I turned away to stop myself from ogling.
He, on the other hand, scanned me from head to toe.
‘We need to leave soon, Rox,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘The gala starts at seven, with the red carpet on from six.’
‘I’m almost ready,’ I replied, fastening the clasp of my silver earring in front of the mirror.
I wore a floor-length navy silk dress that draped over my hips, the fabric hiding the tiny bump on my waistline.
A sudden, intense hunger flared in his gaze, breaking through his stoic mask.
‘Fuckin’ sensational, Rox,’ he murmured, his timbre dropping an octave, his gaze never leaving mine in the reflection. ‘The dress suits you.’
‘Thank you,’ I muttered, my heart doing a silly flip despite my wariness.
I picked up a clutch bag with my ID, phone, makeup, and a credit card and stepped out to join him.
He gave me another appreciative look as he took my arm all the way to the car and helped me into it.
I, however, remained jumpy around him; the distance between us palpable, driven by my suspicions and unvoiced worries.
He drove us down the winding highway in his Defender.
I stole several glances at his profile, my chest aching with a fierce yearning.
The dashboard lights illuminated the rugged contour of his jaw, the sinewed line of his throat, and his calloused hands gripping the steering wheel.
That he was so freakin’ handsome, and the father of my child, was still hard to believe.
I wanted so much to tell him about the pregnancy, to share the beautiful secret inside me.
The words remained trapped, choked out by the memories of his recent behavior, lacking the courage to trust him with our future just yet.
We arrived at the downtown convention hall, finding the red carpet swarming with prominent city figures and industry executives.
A valet took Angel’s keys as we stepped onto the crimson runner.
Cameras flashed in rapid succession as we made our way into the banquet room with reporters calling out Angel’s name.
He smiled, made a few obligatory stops, and posed for photos before leading me inside.
It was quite the spectacle: thousands of white orchids hung from the vaulted ceiling grid.
Velvet drapes lined the walls, reflecting the warm glow of crystal chandeliers onto ice sculptures carved into abstract shapes.
Guests held flutes of sparkling vintage cider, their laughter echoing through the cavernous room.
‘There are the others,’ Angel murmured, steering us to where the band stood, along with Sofia resplendent in a bold canary yellow gown.
We greeted them, kissing cheeks and giving hugs.
‘Always beautiful,’ Levi told me, raising his beer at me.
‘She really is,’ Angel added, his timbred voice sending a frisson of need through me.
If only things were different between us.
Still, I appreciated how he kept me close to my side throughout the entire cocktail hour.
His arm never left my waist as he shielded me from partygoers and the band’s fans crowding to get photos and autographs.
A sudden wave of intense nausea rolled through me, and I took a deep breath to control it.
Angel’s eyes narrowed, and he dipped closer to me.
‘What’s wrong, Rox?’ he murmured, his lips brushing my temple. ‘You’re pale.’
I was mulling my response when my father appeared out of the crowd.
He grasped us both around the shoulders and flashed a practiced smile for a roaming photographer snapping our group portrait.
‘The city’s golden couple,’ Reese boomed, patting Angel’s muscled arm. ‘You’re looking magnificent, and I hope you’ll bring the same kind of energy to Riyadh for the Saudi Cup next month.’
The fuck?
Before either of us could counter, the mayor strolled past.
Reese abandoned us, pivoting on his heel to pursue the politician.
A ringing bell signaled the commencement of the banquet, and we moved to our assigned table.
Servers handed out plates of seared duck breast with a pomegranate reduction and wild mushroom risotto.
I used my silver fork to push the meat around the china, unable to stomach a single bite.
Angel tilted his head, inspecting my full plate, then flicking his eyes up to me.
‘Not eating?’
‘I don’t have an appetite,’ I whispered.
In truth, my belly was churning.
I sipped iced water and took deep breaths until the rippling passed.
Following the main course, the master of ceremonies took the podium to distribute the civic medallions.
The announcer called my name, sparking cheers from the floor, including my companions.
Angel stood to help me up, kissing me on the corner of my lips to my surprise.
‘Proud of you, babe,’ he rasped into my ear.
I plastered on a smile, and I walked up the stage steps into the brilliant illumination of the spotlights and accepted the prize.
All the while feeling like shit; body, mind, and soul.
After the award-giving, I descended the stairs, the trophy and my clutch bag in my hands, as the applause from the ballroom faded behind the velvet curtains.
An event coordinator directed me down a stark, fluorescent-lit backstage.
I was searching for the doorway back into the banquet hall when, without warning, a hand grabbed my wrist, dragging me into a small VIP green room.
‘The hell?’ I gasped, whirling, ready to use the gong as a weapon if need be.
My eyes fell on a familiar figure, and I almost choked in shock.
I stumbled back, my chest heaving.
‘Evangeline? What the heck are you doing here?’
My sister stood before me, and I gaped, blindsided by her presence.
Also by how she appeared; not the stylish, put-together beauty I knew her to be in recent years.
This version was like a broken doll, a haggard phantom of her former self.
Her collarbones protruded in ridges under a stained, wrinkled silk blouse that sagged off her frame.
Her expensive designer jeans were filthy at the knees, and her high-end leather boots scuffed and caked with mud as if she’d been running through the rain.
I caught the sound of thunder outside, which explained some of her disheveled appearance.
Her hair hung in greasy, chaotic clumps, stripping away the polished socialite image she used to weaponize.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ I demanded.
‘I’ve been in Nashville for weeks now. I slipped right past those meathead guards Angel paid for,’ Evangeline bragged, pacing around a velvet sofa.
My heart jolted at my husband’s name.
‘The hell? You’re not making sense.’
‘I caught a ride-share, bypassed the arena checkpoints, and hid back here waiting for you. It was so easy.’
My heart lurched.
‘Go back to what you just said. That Angel arranged for security for you? When? How?’
She attempted to peer at me, swaying in her boots, her pupils blown, dilated, her energy erratic.
‘It seems Angel has kept him and me a secret. There’s so much you don’t know, little sis. Your husband has been looking after me all along, Roxy. I’ve had about enough of your little wifey charade. It’s time to pack it up and walk the fuck out of the life I deserve to be living.’
My stomach dropped into a cold abyss.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s not hard to see that Angel belongs to me,’ she sneered, her inflection dropping to a harsh, toxic whisper. ‘I’m sorry you’re so confused, but he’s my man. He always has been, and you’re just a temporary fix.’
‘You walked away from him,’ I muttered, my voice cracking as panic clawed at my throat.
‘I did, but he wanted me so much that I couldn’t resist returning,’ she cackled, tapping her long, chipped fingernails against a glass table.
‘Let’s get this straight, face to face. You’re blind if you can’t see his heart is still with me.
He told me he couldn’t even function or go through his day without me in his life. ’
She sidled closer, her reeking breath wafting over my face.
‘He’s still obsessed with me, Roxy. He got me a luxury townhouse downtown to prove his devotion. He picked me up from the airport motel the night I landed. We’ve been texting every single night since, while you sit in his house wondering what he’s up to.’
The twisted narrative continued to blade through me.
‘You need to get away from him,’ she snarled, her expression twisting with pure malice. ‘He’s mine.’
I blinked as realization crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Angel’s midnight absences, the relentless phone notifications, his icy distance across our dinner table.
It all made perfect sense.
He was betraying me with my own sister.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I whispered.
I rushed from the room, bursting out into the narrow concrete hallway.
Evangeline’s wild giggling followed me as I raced on.
I could scarcely breathe; the air felt thin, suffocating my lungs as tears flooded my eyes.
I was about to round a corner near the loading dock when I caught the sound of familiar voices and slowed.
On hearing Angel’s timbre, I froze.
‘Hey Deacon, seen Roxy?’ he rasped.
‘Nah, man, but I bumped into Evangeline, right here, about ten minutes ago.’
‘Evangeline?’
‘She said she was looking for Roxy to tell her that you and she were back on, a couple again.’
I peeked around the bend and caught sight of Angel near the stage door, his jaw rigid as Deacon confronted him.
My hands involuntarily squeezed my clutch and award as angst lanced me.
‘Why are you doing this, man?’ Deacon demanded in a tense, furious whisper. ‘Why are you risking your entire career and your marriage to a good woman for a sister who cared nothing for you?’
Angel stepped forward, his sculpted face glowering.
‘From the moment I met her, I promised Evangeline I’d never leave her alone.’
My world detonated.
Blood rushed to my ears, and I was unable to hear anything more.
With a silent gasp, I rushed away.
Heat racing, soul breaking.
The confession broke all hope I’d held onto.
It seemed his lovemaking, the private hopes I harbored for our relationship, our baby, our future, meant nothing.
All of it was a complete lie.
He was still chained to her.
I lurched in a blind panic until I found and fled through the venue’s exit doors, running unthinkingly into the dark, pouring rain.
Sleet dashed against the windowpanes as I stepped out of an Uber and let myself into Angel’s house.
I tossed my clutch, award, and keys onto the counter in the kitchen, my feet aching, heart breaking, my stomach churning with more nausea.
As I made my way upstairs to my room, another chime echoed down the hallway, coming from the direction of Angel’s upstairs office.
It was the third time the notification sounded since I walked in.
I told myself to ignore it, as I pulled out a suitcase to start packing.
It rang again, and curiosity won out, pulling me down the hardwood corridor to the room next to his primary and to his desk.
His tablet rested beside a stack of album cover designs, its screen glowing in the dark room.
I tapped the display, half-expecting a passcode prompt, but the display unlocked.
WhatsApp sat open on the main screen, displaying a thread with a name that turned my blood to ice.
Evangeline.
The dates were fresh, timestamped from a few minutes earlier as I drove away from my sister and him.
Evangeline: I miss youuuu. So good to see you this week. Thanks for taking care of me, baby.
A heart emoji followed it. My throat closed up, the air refusing to reach my lungs as I stared at the final message.
Evangeline: When will you get rid of her so I have you back?
Angel left every single one of her notes on read, leaving no written reply beneath her text.
Still, it offered no comfort; his lack of a response was no absolution.
My nausea spiked, hitting so hard I had to grip the edge of the mahogany desk.
‘Fuck you, Angel,’ I whispered to the empty room, tears burning the corners of my eyes.
When I asked him about the calls and texts, he skirted the issue, never mentioning Evangeline’s return to Nashville, messing with my mind and fracturing my trust.
I’d seen enough, and with an inhale, I headed out of the room.
Vowing never to sleep another night in this house.