Page 75 of False Promises

I swallowed. Hard. And again. For good measure.

My shoulders slouched forward, and all the excitement about the night to come vanished, seeming meaningless now.

My pulse hammered. A crippling feeling clung to my vertebras. I froze, taking it all in. A thorny mass lodged in my throat, shredding the lining.

“Oh, you’re back,” Savannah said as she joined me, air-kissing my cheek. “How do you like my new décor?”

I harrumphed. My head spun. This was a prank. I articulated each word, praying my anger wouldn’t burst out. “Your new décor?”

Savannah, was she joking right now? She had to be. Her décor.

A cold chill passed through me. I bet—no, I had the certitude—I paid for the entire thing. Every fucking cent.

She pouted. “Told you I felt lonely. Thought the new furniture and expensive art pieces would cheer me up. It didn’t, but it kept me busy.”

“Are you kidding me right now? Is this some kind of prank?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “When you left, you said to have some fun. I don’t see what the problem is.” She looked at me with a quizzical stare. As if I’d spoken words she couldn’t decode. “Every time you leave town, you always run back to her. I needed something to occupy my mind.”

“Savannah, they’re my family. And Dah is married. You can’t seriously be jealous. We’ve been over this dozens of times already. And Dahlia wasn’t even in Nashville.”

“I should be more important to you than they are.”

“That’s not how it works. At the end of the day, I’m here with you. Are you competing for my attention against a child?”

“Carter, I’m supposed to be your queen. The center of your world.”

I surveyed the new décor once more.

The anger simmering in the pit of my stomach transformed into blazing flames.

Even the blood running in my veins ran hotter.

“What the fuck did you do while I was away?”

“Oh, stop being dramatic. You always say I can spoil myself while you’re gone.”

“A new dress. Or a purse. Or a visit to the hairdresser. Not an outrageous bill for a couch set we didn’t need or a monstrous painting.”

“But those make me happy, Carter.”

“They don’t make me happy. They fucking don’t. I can’t pay for everything you indulge in. I’m not Santa Claus.”

“Don’t be selfish, Carter. Being a jerk is overrated anyway. And it doesn’t suit you. Be honest here. It looks amazing, right?” She opened her arms toward the new living room set as if I’d said nothing. “Thank you. See, I’m grateful.”

“Wait. We moved in like mere months ago. And you furnished the entire place on my account back then.” I clenched and unclenched my hands at my sides, trying to quiet the fury swirling inside me and longing to express itself. “Tell me. Why would we need to change any of it?”

My feet froze, unable to move forward. I glanced at all the extravagances I would never have bought or agreed to.

My breathing halted, and I rubbed the side of my head, an uneasy emotion turning my stomach into stone. I had no idea who the woman standing before me was.

I’d only left for a few days, and she had transformed into a person I didn’t recognize.

Savannah studied her manicure, looking bored.

“Well, it didn’t suit me. Sometimes, I get tired of things quickly. This looks much better. You’ll see, it will grow on you. Wait until you see the master bedroom, then you’ll agree this makeover was overdue. Wine?”

“Savannah, you know I don’t drink.” What was the game plan here? Clearly, no one informed me about the new rules we were playing with.