Dear Ex Wife Please take me back novel Chapter 39

ATHENA

"I'll be on the other side as I wait for the final parade. It was a pleasure to meet you miss....."

"Dawson." I respond. Unsure if it's a good idea from how Alex is staring daggers at Arnold who looks unbothered.

"Thank you for inviting me over, Alex." The woman speaks right after the creep walks away.

"You're welcome. " He responds in a tone ive never heard him use on me.

My fingers curl into fists in my lap, nails pressing into my palms as the scent of vanilla wraps around me like an unwelcome embrace.

She stops beside Alex, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips, and I watch their silent exchange.

“Athena.” She finally acknowledges with a smile so plastic, a Barbie doll has nothing on her.

“Hello.” I respond, keeping my voice neutral in case I'm wrong about her.

She knows my name while I don't, and it unsettles me.

“I heard what happened to you,” she says, her voice full of concern, and I almost raise my brow. “I’m sorry about that.”

I force a polite smile, even as her words dig under my skin.

“No need to be. I'm now perfectly fine, thanks to my caring husband.” I offer her a smile of my own and her eye twitches.

“That's wonderful. Alex is a caring man, indeed.” she continues, her brown eyes scanning my face as if expecting me to cower.

Not happening, sister.

“My name is Leah.”

Leah.

The name sits heavy in my chest.

I nod stiffly. “Nice to meet you… again.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, the sound delicate, reserved, and poised. Then, without hesitation, she takes the seat on Alex’s other side, leaning in like it’s second nature.

I watch as her hand skim the fabric of his suit sleeve, as if she has every right to touch him. She laughs at nothing he's said, but he tolerates her, which tells me all I need to know.

She's the other woman.

Alex doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t acknowledge her touch.

But he doesn’t push her aside either.

Something in my chest tightens, sharp and suffocating.

I grip the edge of my seat, pushing myself up.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, my voice even.

I don’t wait for a response.

I turn and walk away, each step careful, steady.

But inside?

Inside, I am unraveling.

The moment I step away, my chest tightens as though a band is wrapped around my ribs, squeezing tighter with each breath.

The scent of vanilla still lingers in my nose, and I blink rapidly to keep the burn behind my eyes at bay.

I hate that I have blanks in my head, so I don't know what the hell is going on, but I know that my marriage is not only a secret, but i fear he loves another.

So why did we get married?

Just as I round the corner, lost in my thoughts, I crash right into a wall of muscle.

Strong hands shoot out to catch me before I can topple over.

"Whoa, careful there, love," a deep voice rumbles, warm and smooth like melted chocolate. He has a british accent, which is highly noticeable as he speaks,

"Running from someone or trying to knock me over?"

I blink up at him, caught completely off guard.

He’s handsome, but not the hard, polished, dangerous kind like Alex. No, this man is different.

His brown eyes sparkle with amusement, framed by thick lashes, and his black hair is neatly trimmed, giving him a clean look that somehow makes him seem more like a prince out of a storybook than real life.

But it’s his outfit that makes me pause, black riding boots, slim white riding pants that tuck perfectly into them, and a fitted dark navy blazer with silver buttons.

He has a white dress shirt inside , open slightly at the collar, and tucked neatly, giving him a regal air, like he just stepped out of some royal estate.

It's definitely a prince.