Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Fuck, I hope she wasn’t dating him when we were roommates.
“When did the two of you…?” I begin.
“Sophomore year,” she says quickly, understanding, I guess, the tension in my eyes. “For about six months from, what was it? October to March? Something like that.” Anna puts her hand on my stomach in that way I’m starting to like too much, stretching to kiss my cheek. Warmth spreads down my neck. “You and I met that summer and had our whirlwind romance.”
I’m relieved that she wasn’t dating this guy at any point since she and I got married, but for the first time the broader idea feels sour: of course Anna has been with other men while she’s been legally mine.
I can’t look away, even when the wake of this thought leaves me feeling both ashamed and increasingly possessive. I want to take her away from this party and find a dark place to kiss her until she’s gasping for more.
I realize we’ve been staring at each other too long only when Jamie leans in, chastely air-kissing her opposite cheek. “Good to see you, Anna. Nice to meet you, Liam. I’m sure I’ll see you more this week.”
We shake hands and he walks away, but I don’t take my arm from where it circles her waist. Instead, I pull her closer.
“You had a little bit of a vibe there,” she says, grinning up at me.
“A vibe? I did?”
“A little…” She curls her fingers into claws, pretending to growl at me, but my eyes are drawn to the tan line again. “Like you were on the verge of kicking his ass. That was some good acting.”
“Well.” I look around the room, grateful that Jamie has fully disappeared into the crowd. “He didn’t need to comment on your skill with your hands.”
“Maybe he just meant I made good coffee mugs in pottery class.”
“Do you think that’s what he meant?”
She laughs, lifting her drink to her lips. Her voice echoes a little when she says, “No, probably not. I do make a great clay mug, though.”
“Liam!” my mother crows, approaching with two glasses of champagne. “I have been trying to make my way across the room for ages!” She hands me a flute and I expect her to hand the other to Anna, but instead she lifts it to toast only me. “To your anniversary!”
Pointedly, I hand the flute to Anna, who I realize is unfortunately now double-fisting it with her mostly full vodka tonic. With an annoyed glance at me, Mom passes me her flute, and snags one off the tray of a passing caterer.
“I’d forgotten the date, since we never see you together,” Mom says, “and when Charlie reminded us tonight, I just thought, ‘Oh, we must have a party!’ ”
“We have a trip planned,” I lie. “Anna and I will make a big deal out of it together, but we don’t need anything else, truly.”
“It would mean a lot to your father and me. He insisted we add something to the wedding itinerary.”
I laugh. “Mom, it’s already packed.”
“We can squeeze in another party.”
“There’s no—”
Anna cuts me off. “Janet, that would be amazing. Thank you. There are never enough celebrations in life, isn’t that right?”
My mom turns her eyes on Anna as if she’d forgotten she was here. “Especially on someone else’s dime, I suppose!”
Ice-cold mortification washes me out. “Mom.”
She lightly smacks my arm. “I’m just teasing her. I mean, truly, why not fold it into the wedding festivities? It’s a great idea, and Charlie wouldn’t mind sharing the spotlight.”
Anna is flushed red, visibly humiliated.
“Mom,” I say, “you suggested it. She’s just agre—”
“Liam,” my dad cuts in, suddenly appearing at my side. “Son, I need you for a minute. I’ve got the senior editor of Forbes over there—”
“Ray, honey,” Mom says quietly. “Do we have to do this tonight? It’s a party.”
“I’m holding a glass of champagne,” my father says irritably. “What the hell else do you need me to do?”
“That’s my husband, always working. Even at his only daughter’s wedding…”
I smile with false warmth at my father, but my pulse is still thundering over what my mother did. “We were just talking about the anniversary party you want to throw us.”
Dad squints. “The fuck are you talking about?”
Mom threads her arm through his. “Raymond. Didn’t you hear Charlie just now? Liam and Anna are coming up on five years married.”
My dad snorts into his champagne glass. “Call me at twenty. If you’re still sharing a bed, then we’ll throw you a party.”
“Oh God,” Anna exhales. Against me, she’s shaking from the tension.
Mom does a double take when a catering cart passes, full of some non–Weston brand soft drinks. “Mystic Cooler? Not on my fucking watch,” she growls, stalking off after it.
“Liam.” Dad claps a hand on my back. “Follow me.”
He turns without waiting and I look down at Anna and her thousand-yard stare.