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Where would he be looking? A club? If he didn’t want men looking at me, then that was definitely not somewhere he’d want me singing. Plus, my voice wasn’t really for anything that wasn’t country. I wasn’t a wedding singer either.
I turned to watch him get a salad out of the fridge and place it on the counter by the bread he’d gotten out of the oven.
“I need my own money. For example, tonight, Dovie went to Nailyah’s birthday party, and I didn’t have money to go buy her something or even give her. Thanks for the heads-up that it was your sister’s birthday, by the way.”
He looked over at me. “Dovie didn’t go empty-handed. She took Nailyah a bracelet she’d had her eye on and the earrings that matched.”
That was not the same thing.
“Your sister will know that whatever extravagant gift you sent, it was paid for by you.”
“The bracelet was from me. The earrings were from Dovie and you,” he said, walking over to me. “They were reasonable, and they were from you and Dovie.”
I wouldn’t lie. I was relieved, knowing she hadn’t gone without a gift. It was thoughtful of him to think about it and handle it. Like he seemed to do with everything. But if I had my own money and he’d told me, that was something Dovie and I could have done.
His hands slid around my waist, and he looked down at me. “I’ve got this. You. Even Dovie. Just trust me.”
I wanted to pretend that everything was okay. That this was perfect. He had cooked for me, he wanted me, we had amazing sex, and I loved being with him. But there were lies. He was manipulating me. I realized, as much as I wanted that, I couldn’t trust him.
• Eleven •
“What all was he lying about?”
Briar
Forgiving Storm was easy, simply because it was impossible to stay mad at him. It was the forgetting that was sitting heavy in my chest. A nagging feeling that I was trusting him with my heart when I couldn’t trust him with other things far less important.
Did love make you foolish? This was new to me, and maybe it was supposed to be like this. I’d just never imagined that it would be this complicated.
I’d known since the dinner he’d made for me two nights ago that I was invited to a luncheon at his parents’ house. It was other women within the family. Knowing Maeme would be there made it less intimidating. I’d only met Annette Kingston at the Shephards’ party, and she’d been nice. Friendly even. Nothing like I’d expected when I first saw her.
Dovie was much more relaxed about attending something at the Shephards’ house since she had been there several times now with Nailyah.
I normally didn’t let anyone or any situation make me feel uncomfortable. My nerves were from the fact that this was Storm’s mother. I wanted her to like me. That had to be what this unfamiliar anxiety was about—walking into a house full of rich, pampered women who had never had to steal a can of SpaghettiOs in their lives. But I could do this. I was tougher than they were.
Taking a deep breath, I smiled over at Dovie and rang the bell to the front door of the Shephards’ massive historical home. I felt as if I’d been shoved into a scene from Gone with the Wind.
The large double doors opened together, and Mrs. Beck, who I had met the evening we came swimming here, smiled at me, then at Dovie. My guess was, she was in her early sixties, and Storm had told me she’d been with them since he was a baby. Her mother had worked for his grandparents, who had lived in this house before them. Apparently, his father was the third generation of Kingstons to live here. The idea of having so much family history made me envious. I knew very little of mine, and what I knew, I wished I didn’t.
“Welcome, Ms. Landry,” she said. “And, Dovie, it is good to see you.”
“Thank you,” I replied, going inside the large foyer and taking in the sweeping staircase, stunning chandelier that hung from the high ceiling, and the ornate furnishings that seemed as if they’d been placed here two hundred years ago when the house was built and somehow stayed in mint condition.
Even though I’d already been here once before, this place still awed me.
My gaze finally made its way back to Mrs. Beck. “It’s such a lovely home.”
Mrs. Beck chuckled. “Yes, it’s one of the loveliest historical homes in Madison. Perhaps the loveliest, but I’m partial,” she said with a wink. “Come this way, ladies. The others are in the sunroom. It’s a pleasant enough temperature for it to be opened onto the patio.”
Well, wasn’t this very fancy and proper? This was not our kind of thing, and the idea of us at an uppity luncheon made me want to laugh.
