Chapter 17
Every move felt like a slap across my face. My heart ached with the sting of it. I had played out scenes like that in my head over and over again. Yet, standing in my home, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine.
“Jane, you’re awake?” Margaret turned to see me and greeted me with a smile, “Come on, try some of Bry’s cooking. It’s to die for.”
With that, she carried a dish to the table, acting every bit the hostess.
I took a deep breath, stepped past her, and asked Bryant straight up, “Why is she here?”
Finishing up in the kitchen, Bryant removed his apron and said coldly, “She’ll be gone after this meal.”
“You want me to leave, huh?” Margaret glared at him.
“Margaret, take the hint! Stop stirring trouble,” Bryant’s tone was icy, his patience wearing thin.
“Whatever,” Margaret muttered and pulled me to join the meal as if the person who had been crying and begging my husband to divorce me wasn’t her and as if she wasn’t the one trying to whisk my husband away
Bryant’s cooking was indeed excellent, a full spread that was a feast for the senses.
I wasn’t hungry, but the baby inside me needed to eat.
What did I have to fear if she could shamelessly be my home? So, I sat down to eat.
Margaret tried to make conversation. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
I forced a smile. “Bryant’s cooking is always great. Whenever he’s home, he’s in the kitchen.”
Of course, that was a lie. But I just wanted to mark my territory in the pettiest way possible.
Margaret cast a fleeting glance at Bryant. “Never knew you were this good to everyone.”
“Can’t even shut up when you’re eating?” Bryant scoffed and served me some ribs.
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