Waylen and Rebecca arrive in the entryway, and Leilani feels panic wash over her. Every time Waylen enters a room, all the air seems to leave it. She feels her face get hot, and her fingers feel thick and clumsy as she tries to put her shoes on. In a fit of frustration, she leaves the strap unbuckled and stands up.
“You won’t get far,” Robert says. “The roads are all closed.”
“I’m sure I can find another route,” Leilani says.
Robert exchanges a glance with Waylen and says, “I doubt it. Don’t you hear the sirens? There’s been a murder nearby—a horrible one based on my intelligence. No one will be able to enter or exit the neighborhood.”
As if his words are the cue, sirens begin to wail in the distance. They get closer and louder until everyone in the room is pressing the palms of their hands over their ears. Waylen ignores the noise, turns his back on them all, and walks back into the living room.
“Leilani, stay and have dinner,” Rebecca shouts. “You can’t leave now—it’s not safe.”
Leilani sighs and nods. She follows Rebecca back to the kitchen, trying to ignore the brooding figure on the living room sofa. But it’s impossible to forget his presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him flip through an evening newspaper.
Rebecca clears her throat and says, “Leilani? Do you hear me?”
“Huh? What?” Leilani asks. “I’m sorry my mind was somewhere else.”
“I was just saying that I’m sorry,” Rebecca says. “I honestly had no idea that my boyfriend would come tonight.”
“Oh well, I’m sorry you can’t have a private dinner with him,” Leilani says. “I guess I’m sort of ruining the romance.”
Rebecca laughs and shakes her head, but her eyes look a little sad. She’s arranging Waylen’s plate, and her long graceful fingers dance around the counter. She piles greens on the bottom, then slides the thickest, nicest piece of salmon on top. She adds three tomato roses and sprinkles herbs and seasonings on the fish.
Next, to Rebecca, she feels clumsy and useless. Jealous tears well in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. I wish I could hate Rebecca, but I just can’t, she thinks. She seems kind and friendly, and thoughtful. Besides, I have no right to be so jealous—I’m with Andrew.
She repeats the sentence to herself like a mantra: I have no right to be jealous. I have no right to be jealous. But it doesn’t work. I thought Waylen was different, she thinks. He always told me I was unlike other women. When he made love to me on the ship, I thought he still had feelings for me, but for all, I know he was just pretending I was Rebecca. More tears fall down her cheek, but she’s too slow to wipe them away.
Rebecca wipes her hands on a towel and gently grabs Leilani’s shoulder, “Leilani, are you okay?”
“Hmm, yes, of course,” Leilani says. “It’s just the onion. Fresh chopped onion always makes me tear up.”
Rebecca runs across the kitchen and returns with a tissue. Leilani takes it and tries to force a grateful smile. Why is she so nice to me? Leilani wonders. Is it possible she doesn’t know I’m Waylens ex-wife? I guess she wouldn’t invite me to stay for dinner if she knew.
Leilani chews her lip and thinks about it. Waylen hates publicity, and he tries to keep his pictures out of the press. In the time they were married, she can only think of a few occasions when he was in the newspapers and tabloids. Thanks to tabloid columnists and Leonie, almost everyone in the country knows Leilani’s name, but until recently, very few had seen her picture.
If Rebecca grew up in another country, I guess it’s possible she’s never seen my picture or heard my name, Leilani thinks. She doesn’t strike me as the type to read gossip magazines or pay attention to paparazzi photos.
“Please forgive Waylen,” Rebecca says. “He’s probably just exhausted by work.”
“It’s alright,” Leilani says, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.
“Can you help me bring the plates to the table?” Rebecca asks.
Leilani grabs a serving platter with mushrooms and truffles, “Of course.”
“Oh no,” Rebecca wails, stopping Leilani. “There’s oil all over your skirt.”
Leilani looks down and sees a dark blot on her blue skirt. That’s what I get for eavesdropping on Rebecca, she thinks. The oil splattered all over me, and I didn’t even notice.
“Let me get you a new one,” Rebecca offers.
“No, it’s fine,” Leilani says. “Where’s the bathroom? I’ll go clean it myself.”
Rebecca points down the hall, and Leilani rushes away as fast as she can. She shuts the bathroom door behind her and breathes a sigh of relief. She splashes cold water at her face and stares at herself in the mirror. She looks pale and sallow. She leans down and splashes more water on her face. When she straightens up, her eyes meet Waylen’s in the mirror.
“How did you get in?” she asks.
“It’s my house,” Waylen says.
“So, what do you want?” Leilani asks. “It’s hardly appropriate for you to sneak into the bathroom with your ex-wife at your girlfriend’s house.”
Waylen smirks and looks her up and down. Her heart hammers in her chest, and she wonders if it’s loud enough for him to hear. Her face is still wet, and she grabs a towel off the rack and blots it dry. When she moves the towel, he’s just inches away.
“I swear I didn’t know she was your girlfriend,” she says. “When I got the assignment to design the cufflinks, I had no idea they were for you.”
Waylen leans in and puts his hand on the mirrored medicine cabinet behind her. She backs up into the sink, and he leans down until his nose is less than an inch from hers. His hot breath brushes her face, and she shivers. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up to meet him.
He laughs loudly and coldly, and she opens her eyes. He pulls a watch out of the medicine cabinet behind her and starts to fasten it around his wrist. His eyes are cold and hard and filled with disgust.
“My God, Leilani, did you actually think I was trying to kiss you?” he asks. “Have you forgotten that you’re marrying Andrew? Really, you need to control yourself around other men. But since you clearly can’t, I want to make myself clear—you need to stay away from my girlfriend and me.”
Her stomach churns, and her eyes fill with ashamed tears. He looks down at her and his mouth curls into a frown. Her heart is still pounding in her chest, and she hates her body’s betrayal. Even though he looks at her with disgust, she wants to reach out and stroke the smooth skin of his cheek.
“Waylen, Leilani,” Rebecca calls. “Dinner is ready.”
Waylen finishes fastening the watch and takes a step back. The air around her is filled with his intoxicating smell, and she inhales greedily. His hand darts out, and his warm fingers slowly slide up her arm, pushing her shirt sleeve up. He stops and traces her turquoise tattoo.
“Aren’t you ashamed for your fiancé to see that?” Waylen asks.
She looks down at the blue initials on her pale skin. She covers the tattoo with her hand and glares up at him.
“Aren’t you worried about what your girlfriend thinks of yours?” she asks.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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