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“Do you think that Osian would ever put his hands on you?”
Shock rippled through me at her words. I opened my mouth to speak and closed it.
“Think really carefully,” she said, her voice soothing.
I closed my eyes and ran through all our interactions again.
And again.
Candice was waiting when I snapped my lids open. My chest burned, all twisted and tight. Tears threatened to slide down my cheeks.
“I don’t have a reason to think he would,” I whispered. “But I don’t know.”
“What are your instincts telling you?” she asked.
I shrugged, helplessly. “Not to trust him.”
“Okay, you have to talk to Merrick.”
“Candice—”
“Clara, your body is telling you it doesn’t feel safe with Osian. You have to listen to it.”
“Things just aren’t that simple.”
She fell quiet and released me. There was a defeated look in her eyes that only made me feel more guilty. At that moment, my phone pinged on the dresser and I went to check it.
It was a text from Merrick.
Dinner tonight?
My heart skipped a beat and my hand shook as I swiped the screen. Why did he want dinner with me? Was he rethinking things?
No, he had said things would go back to normal.
And this was normal. Merrick took me out to dinner all the time. I forced my breath to slow as I typed out a response.
Sure. Where?
The bubble appeared, rolling for a minute.
The Italian place on the east side of the river that has the drinks you like.
You don’t like that place.
Who says?
You said it was unhealthy.
There was a long pause and then:
I’ll pick you up from the house at seven.
My heart beat oddly for the rest of the afternoon, but I pretended it was nothing. I drove home from Candice’s house and showered. Then I obsessed over every dress in my closet for the next hour even though I knew exactly what I was going to wear.
A little black dress. Tight around my body. Coming down to the middle of my thigh.
Black high heels, a little velvet bow above my ankle.
