“I think you know my husband, actually,” she says, her voice colder than the Arctic tundra.
“I – I don't think so,” I say. “I'd like you to leave now.”
She runs her fingertips over one of the shelves and examines them, grimacing as if she came away with a handful of filth and grime.
“Oh, I think you do,” she says, looking around the shop and not at me, which somehow adds to the creepy vibe I'm getting. “In fact, from what I'm hearing, you're actually the one who has been fucking him.”
She turns her eyes to me and I feel like I've been struck by lightning, feeling like every nerve in my body has been caught on fire. As I look at the woman before me, I realize I'm staring into the face of Liam's ex-wife, Brittany. A cold chill runs through me and my stomach ties itself in knots.
I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is suddenly dry, and I can't seem to get a single word out.
“What's wrong? Cat got your tongue, dear?” she asks, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face.
“Look, I don't want any trouble –”
“You should have thought about that before you let my husband stick his dick in you,” she snaps. “Or, do the vows of marriage mean nothing to a gutter slut like yourself?”
My eyes widen in shock at the way this woman is speaking to me. I'm left completely dumbfounded for a moment, unable to think. Unable to speak. My brain is telling me to punch this woman in the mouth, and that nobody can speak to me like this. I’m so stunned and uncertain, however, that all I can do is stand there, gaping like an idiot.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself,” Brittany asks.
I clear my throat and try to work up enough saliva to get my mouth working again. It takes a moment, but I'm finally able to gain enough control of myself to respond. Though my brain is still a bit addled, and my usual levels of wit and snark have deserted me.
“I heard you were divorced,” is all I can think of to say.
“It's not finalized yet,” she says simply. “And like I said, we're just going through a rough patch. We're working things out.”
“You're working things out?”
A brittle laugh passes her lips and she looks at me with utter contempt in her eyes. “Oh, he didn't tell you?” she says. “Well, that's very much like Liam. He does what he wants when he wants.”
She looks me up and down, with a smarmy, condescending smile on her lips.
“Or, should I say, who he wants?” she says. “If there's one thing Liam loves more than money, it's pussy.”
I stare at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. My mind is awash in a chaotic storm of emotion and I can't think of a response to her. Brittany looks me up and down, her expression one of amusement mixed with revulsion.
“Trust me when I say, you're not really his type, dear,” Brittany says. “You were nothing but a plaything to him. Somebody to pass the time with while we sorted through our issues. I have no qualms with him fucking you, I suppose. After all, I know he could never be serious about somebody like – well – you.”
“Somebody like me?”
She scoffs. “Somebody so – low-class,” she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You're a peasant, dear. You shouldn’t mix with people like us. Oh, I'm going to forgive Liam for fucking you. I hear men like to slum around a little bit every now and then, just to get a feel for how the lesser people live – and apparently fuck. But, you were nothing more than an itch that needed to be scratched for him.”
Tears roll down my cheeks and I can't seem to stop them. Brittany looks at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement as laughter bubbles up out of her throat.
“Oh – you actually thought the two of you could have something together?” she asks, her voice sharp and brittle. “You actually believed he could love somebody like you? Oh, that's so precious. Utterly naive, but precious. You're so cute.”
“Get out of my store,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Brittany just laughs out loud, shaking her head at me. Anger, dark and bottomless, begins to well up within me. My tears stop falling and I'm starting to see red at the edges of my vision. I've made the turn from devastated to furious and I know, if this woman doesn't get out of my face soon, she's going to regret it.
“Get out of my store now,” I say, my voice gaining strength. “And you can keep your ridiculous fucking husband. I'm done with him anyway.”
Brittany laughs and claps her hands, clearly delighted. “Adorable,” she says. “Totally adorable.”
“You may have money, but you have no class,” I hiss. “You and that piece of shit you call a husband are made for each other. You deserve each other.”
“Yes, we do,” she says. “And don't worry, I'll be collecting him shortly. We'll be leaving this little backwoods town soon enough and you can go back to your double-wide trailer to live out your sad, pathetic excuse for a life.”
“Get the fuck out of my store right now,” I scream. “Or, I swear to God, I'm going to rip your fucking heart straight out of your chest.”
Brittany laughs. “I can see why Liam was so keen to fuck you,” she says. “You seem pretty feisty to me. I can only imagine what you must be like in the sack.”
I drop the books I'm holding and ball up my fists. I've had enough of this shit. I've had enough of Brittany and I've had enough of Liam. For all I care, they can both die in a helicopter wreck. In fact, I hope they do.
Brittany raises her hands in surrender, that bitchy, condescending smirk still on her lips. “I'm leaving now, dear,” she says. “I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself. I'm sorry that I've caused you to be so upset. The truth often has that effect on people.”
Without another word, she turns and leaves the store, the bells tinkling as the door closes. I sink to my knees and bury my face in my hands. I can't stop the tears and my body is racked with sobs. My howls of devastation echo throughout the store.
I've never felt so miserable in my entire life. I've never felt so alone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Paige
I don't do it often, but today, I made the decision to close the shop early. It's not like I was going to have a mad rush at the end of the day anyway. And after my encounter with Brittany, I don't think anybody would have blamed me in the least for wanting to knock off a bit early, so I can go drink myself blind. Which seems like a pretty reasonable and rational response to the afternoon I had.
What started off as a really nice day, following the best night of my life, has gone completely off the rails and turned into one of the shittiest days I can remember.
I stop at the store and pick up three cartons of ice cream, as requested by Skyler. She's got a full wine cabinet at home, so I don't need to worry about that. It's only five-thirty, but it's already fully dark by the time I pull into my driveway. It's one of the things I like least about winter – how early the sun sets and night falls.
Skyler isn't going to be done at the Grill for a few hours yet, so I have some time to kill. I figure a long, hot shower will feel wonderful right about now. Maybe it'll wash off some of the crap that stuck to me today.
The house is black and still as I climb out of my car and head towards the front door, bags in hand. Unlocking the door, I step inside and close it behind me, making sure to lock it. I walk into the kitchen and leave the ice cream in the freezer.
I'm so distracted by all the thoughts running through my head, that it takes me a minute to register that something's different about my house. That something isn't right. I stop in my tracks and hold my breath, looking around the kitchen for the source of my unease.