Every Last Secret - A.R. Torre Page 0,44

She doesn’t have everything in life.”

I let out a strangled sound. “I’d love to know what that means.”

He abandoned the contract and stood, rounding the edge of the counter. Leaning against the marble, he attempted to pull me away from the food and against him. “It means that you’re beautiful.”

I resisted, standing before him, my arms crossed.

“And she’s not. You don’t have to work, and she does. You’re the queen of this social circle, and she’s excluded from it. It’s got to be hard on her, trying to compete with you—with us and our world.” He closed the gap between us, hugging me despite my crossed arms, the awkward positioning of our bodies breaking my stern composure as he tried to jiggle my arms loose.

A smile cracked across my features, and he took advantage of the break and gave me a kiss on either cheek.

I forced a scowl back into place and pushed away from him, my mind turning over Tom Beck’s report and wondering how much of it to share. “Giving me compliments doesn’t excuse the fact that she has no boundaries. Coming by here and asking you to get a bird out of her house? She doesn’t know how to shoo?”

“She was petrified, Cat. When we were in the room with it, she was trembling.”

I snorted. “Oh, please. And wanting to carpool to work? It’s called a loaner car. I called the dealership. They have plenty of loaners there. She had to specifically decline one, and why would she do that?” I smacked my forehead. “Oh, right. Because she wants to spend time with you. She’s a snake, William. A snake!” I inhaled sharply, unsure of why I was suddenly screaming. I turned back to our lunch and ticked through the necessary menu items, then reached for an avocado from the bowl.

“Cat.”

I ignored him, pulling a knife free of the block and halving the fruit on the stone cutting board. She had been pregnant. Hadn’t she realized what a blessing that was? She could have an eight-year-old child by now, but she didn’t. She had thrown it away, and I couldn’t even manage to wrangle up a miscarriage. I felt a sob push up my throat, and I swallowed it down, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay.

“Please ease up on her.”

I stacked the quarters and ran the knife tip over their lengths, slicing through the avocado’s flesh. I gave myself a moment, then spoke. “I don’t want you running with her again.”

He coughed out a laugh of incredulity. “Wow. You’re that insecure about this? You want me to fire her, too? Is that what you want? Should we move to a different house?”

I pinched pepper pieces together and worked the knife furiously against their strips, cubes of red and green flying along the cutting board.

That blonde bitch had backed me up against a wall, and I hated it.

CHAPTER 22

CAT

“Good morning, Mrs. Winthorpe.”

“Good morning.” I smiled at the chef and poured a cup of coffee. “I’m going to walk through the gardens. If William comes down for breakfast before I get back, please let him know.”

“Certainly.” Philip nodded, and I took my mug and stepped through the back door, inhaling the crisp morning. The hydrangeas were in full bloom, and I took a moment to appreciate the neat pockets of color set off against the roses and grass. The gardens stretched between our home and the pool, then picked back up at the entrance to the orchard at the rear of our lot. I’d spent years cultivating the perfect mix of apple and lemon trees, set off by spice and strawberry bushes.

The privacy hedges between us and the Ryders ended at the edge of our home, the back of their home exposed if you walked deeper into our gardens. I wove around a bed of white roses and glanced over, spotting Matt on their upper balcony, his own coffee in hand.

He leaned against the railing, and even from here, I could see some dark chest hair peeking out of the top of his white robe. “Good morning!” he called out.

“Morning.” I moved closer and lifted my hand in greeting. “It’s actually warm out!” The prior few days had been miserable, the air thick with humidity, the skies dark and gray.

He laughed. “I don’t know about warm, but I’ll take it.”

An awkward silence fell, the distance too far for real conversation. Still, the effort should be made. “The pavers look great.”

He came to my side of his balcony