You Know I Need You (You Are Mine #4) - Willow Winters Page 0,55
a yellow and black cab to pull to a stop in front of me. Ushering myself in, my mind still fails to grasp all the details of everything that’s happened in only months.
If an author submitted my story to me as a manuscript, I’d tell them it’s too unbelievable. What’s that quote from Mark Twain? Something about how truth is stranger than fiction because fiction needs to make sense.
“Where to, miss?” the cabby asks me as I get in the back seat and close the door.
“Saks on Fifth, please,” I answer confidently, although my nerves creep up. Evan would kill me if he knew what I was doing, but it’s not going to stop me. I need this.
There are only two things I’m certain of.
I can’t afford to let Evan leave me again or else I’ll truly lose my mind.
I’m not going to stay out of this like Evan wants.
The car moves forward, taking me away from the empty townhouse. He’s gone off to meet with Mason and tell him what we agreed on. He’s staying with me, committing to me and our baby. And he promised to move past this. I’ll listen to what he tells me to do, but every night he comes back to me and sleeps with me in our bed. No more secrets and hiding. I have to help him, not let the fear of what might happen ruin what we have in the present.
I’m still pissed that Mason knew when I didn’t. It’s the second knife in my back, but I let it slide simply because it’s not his ring on my finger.
Instead, I focus on the real target here. Samantha Lapour. I’m not over her being with him when we were separated. The hate and jealousy are still there.
She loves Fifth Avenue. What rich New York socialite doesn’t?
I remember her bragging about her apartment above Saks when I first met her. She was so happy to keep it even though she and her husband were happily married. It wasn’t so much a humblebrag as it was just bragging.
That should’ve been my first clue we were never destined to become friends, but her smile was charming and her stories were alluring. I’ll admit, I was dazzled.
The cabby stops before I’m ready, my nerves getting the best of me, and it’s only then that the weight of what I’m doing makes my stomach churn.
I pay the cabby, slipping out and onto the curb to avoid the traffic.
My pulse races faster and faster, adrenaline surging as I make my way through the throngs of people and into the apartment foyer, disappearing from the crowd and readying myself to knock on her door on the fourteenth floor.
I don’t know the exact address, though. There are only so many up here, so if at first I don’t succeed, I’ll simply try again.
My legs are shaky as I climb the stairs; I should have taken the elevator. Some small part of me is quite aware that the decision was made to eat up time.
“Good evening,” a feminine voice says, and I have to raise my gaze to watch an older woman with a stylish white bob and a small Pomeranian in her arms close the door to 1401. There are only two other apartments on this floor, the one I’m sure Samantha told me about.
But that was years ago …
“How are you?” I greet the woman as if I’m supposed to be here, as if I’m visiting a friend and not a woman I have every intention of warning to stay the hell away from me and my family. In an effort to be convincing, I open my clutch, keeping my eyes on her with a simper plastered on my face. I’m sure it looks like I’m getting out a key or maybe my phone to call a friend.
The woman simply smiles tightly and nods then carries on her way, not answering the question. I hesitate, glancing between the remaining two doors and wondering which one I should knock on first.
This is crazy.
My heart races and a mix of adrenaline and anxiousness make me question why I’m even here.
The real answer, the absolute truth, hisses in the back of my head.
She was with him. In his family house.
Two confident strides and I knock, one, two, three times on 1402. I don’t breathe until I take a small step back and wait.
Silence. No response. The confidence threatens to leave with every second that passes, but the moment I take a