“Ellen? Where’d you run off to? It’s almost time for the read-through—”
My ex-fiancé, Jason, steps into view and wraps his arm around Ellen, squeezing her happily until he catches sight of me. He’s still tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit with his dark hair slicked with pomade. Clean-shaven, all-American. He was New Carnegie’s poster boy for success and determination, a classic rags-to-riches story, some said.
Except he lost the last city mayor election to Jacqueline Rivera.
Something his supporters blame me for.
His practiced public-relations smile vanishes. His already too-pale skin turns ghost white, and his arm drops to his side. We stare at each other, and I allow myself to relish this brief moment, where things aren’t going precisely like he planned, and his controlled environment collapses.
But Jason, ever the politician, composes himself quickly. “Lucy Warren. You look well.”
I’ve gone over this scenario a thousand times. Every time, what I want to say is different, ranging from condescending to righteous, to just downright venomous.
“Looking a bit pallid, Jason,” I reply. “You might want to sit down before you have any pictures taken for your new campaign.”
Jason’s jaw clenches. “Envy is an ugly color on you.”
“I’m not envious of either of you,” I reply. “You can paint me any color you want, Jason Lancaster, but it won’t change what happened. Whatreallyhappened.”
Ellen, to her credit, has some shame and doesn’t try to come up with a retort. Jason is another matter, always determined to have the last word, but I don’t want to hear his response.
Instead, I turn to Atticus. “We’re leaving now.”
“Is that an android?” Jason says with some derision. Ellen whispers something into his ear, and his furrowed brow smooths out, watching me smugly as I turn away with Atticus next to me. He calls to me, his voice ringing in the quiet library halls. “Well. I suppose we’ll leave youlovebirdsto it.”
I’m fighting, doing my best to stay calm and keep my head held high, but my body is trembling, my heart threatening to crash right out of my chest—if I don’t crumble to the ground and have a nervous breakdown first.
But no. I won’t give him the satisfaction. And Atticus stays right by my side, matching me step by step.We wind our way around to the stairs, and I quicken my pace.
“Lucy?”
I shake my head. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m so angry. I need air. Everything’s spinning.
She’spregnant.
“Lucy,” Atticus tries again.
“I just need a minute.”
I never wanted to see him again. I never watched the news, not knowing when his face would be showcased during political discourse. I thought the library, of all places, would be safe, a refuge, because that two-faced bastard hasn’t picked up a book in his life, except for his publicity stunts.
I should’ve known it, why he never took interest in any of the wedding planning. But I didn’t see any of the signs. How would I? And when I went to his hotel room, hoping to surprise him by showing my support of his political ambitions at his conference out of town, there he was. Hilted deep inside Ellen, shouting at me and blaming me for not letting him know I was coming. LikeIsomehow brokehistrust.
Some images time just can’t scrub out of your mind. I’ll never forget that. I didn’t want to ever relive it again, but here I am.
I break away from Atticus, moving as quickly as I can without actually running to the exit, nearly barreling a college student over in the process.
But Atticus doesn’t leave or slow. He follows me, even when I turn a corner and lean against the worn plaster of a library pillar, choking on my own sobs as I try to force them down and silence them.
Like a bursting dam, the tears I’ve been hiding for so long finally spill out.
I expect him to stare at me awkwardly, keep his distance, remain neutral like he always has. Instead, Atticus sweeps me up into his arms and holds me tightly to his powerful body. Stunned, I finally wrap my arms tightly around him and bury my face in his shirt, weeping.
He rests his cheek on top of my head and his hand softly traces my back between my shoulders. My tears begin to fade.
His voice rumbles in his chest. “It’s all right, Lucy.”
“It’s not all right,” I reply, pulling away just enough to wipe my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
