Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 498

I stood at my door for a long moment, my fingers curled around the edge of the frame, and something cold settled in my stomach. Scarlett claimed she had no choice in any of this. She claimed every sacrifice was for me. But she had just spent the night in my husband's bed, and she had walked out of it looking like the cat that had swallowed the cream.

Scarlett, you say you have no choice. You say everything you do is for my sake. But you seem to enjoy being with my husband so much. So what exactly is the truth?

I could not get back to sleep after that, and it was nearly daybreak anyway, so I lay on my bed and watched the ceiling lighten by slow degrees. The embarrassment had crept back in, worse than before. How was I supposed to face Sparrow after everything I had said to him? I had thrown away my pride and my shyness and my dignity and laid them at his feet, and he had picked them up and thrown them back in my face. He had seen me at my most desperate and he had hurt me for it, and the thought of standing in the same room as him made my stomach turn over.

But if I could not even face him, how could I ever make him fall for me? How could I make him regret the way he had treated me? He was the first man my heart had ever raced for, and even after the whip, even after the humiliation, I could not completely let go of that bright, foolish feeling he had planted in me. I wanted to hate him for it. I wanted to wake up cured. But wanting and doing were two different things, and my heart refused to listen to my head.

An hour passed while I lay there, going nowhere, and then my phone began to ring.

Grandmother's name lit up the screen. I stared at it, tempted to let it ring out, but the old woman had been on my side from the very beginning. She had believed in me when no one else did. She had given me money and advice and hope, and ignoring her would be like slapping away the only hand reaching down to help me. So I picked up.

"Good morning, Grandmother."

"Good morning, my child." Her voice came through warm and bright. "Did you sleep well? That husband of yours is not working you too hard, I hope."

"No, Grandmother." I smiled despite myself. "I slept well."

"That is good to hear." There was a pause, and when she spoke again her voice had gone sly and excited, like a girl my own age. "Now then. Tell me about last night. I have been sitting here hoping for good news, child. At my age, a woman wants to see great-grandchildren before she dies, and I would like to start preparing the nursery while I still have the strength to argue with the decorators."

"Do not apologize, child." I heard her draw a slow breath. "You tried and he was a fool. Men are like that sometimes, blind to what is right in front of them. But we will fix this. I need you to come to the house this morning and visit me."

I hesitated. "I already have plans today, Grandmother."

"Cancel them." There was no room for argument in her voice now. "Nothing is more important than a woman getting her husband back in line, and you and I have work to do. Do you understand me, child?"

I looked at my ceiling, at the grey morning light creeping across it, and for the first time since the whip had fallen, I felt something that was not shame or fear. It was a small, stubborn spark, and I held onto it.

"Yes, Grandmother."