Chapter 7
Patrick’s voice cut through the night behind her.
She spun around just in time to see him stepping out of his car. In a few strides, he closed the distance and pulled her into his arms–he sounded breathless, almost frantic. “Why didn’t you tell me you slipped away from Mills? And you’re not even home. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”
Maisy melted against his chest, but all she could smell was Melinda’s perfume clinging to him. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Do you even care what happens to me anymore?”
Patrick hugged her tighter. “Of course I care. As soon as I dropped Melinda off, I came straight here to find you.”
Maisy tried to laugh, but it got caught somewhere between her chest and her throat.
She held up a rain–soaked letter. “Remember this? The time capsule we buried when we were eighteen?”
Patrick frowned in confusion. “Time capsule? Did we really do that?”
He glanced up at the gathering clouds. “Come on, let’s go home. It’s getting cold. If you cold, Melinda will have to look after you again.”
That made Maisy laugh out loud.
She laughed, and before she knew it, tears were spilling down her cheeks.
All these years, she’d held on to something he’d let go of completely.
Maisy, did you hear that? He’s already forgotten.
catch a
***
Maisy spent the next few days at home, healing, and watching in silence as Melinda’s attitude toward Patrick slowly changed.
She started accepting the jewelry and designer bags he brought her, flashing satisfied little
smiles.
When Patrick came home late, Melinda waited up for him in the living room.
Sometimes, Maisy caught them holding hands when they thought no one was looking.
A week later, the three of them showed up at a fancy business gala together.
Patrick had to go mingle with the crowd, but before he left their side, he looked at Maisy and said, “Keep an eye on Melinda for me, okay?”
All around them, the city’s elite whispered and gossiped.
1/2
Chapter 7
“Did you see that? He actually asked the wife to babysit the mistress. Mr. Huffman really spoils
her.”
“That’s nothing–look at what she’s wearing. The mistress is dressed better than the wife. He must be crazy about her.”
“I thought Mr. Huffman was obsessed with his wife before. What happened?”
“Feelings change, I guess. He found someone he loves even more. Love really is unpredictable.”
Maisy heard everything, but she didn’t say a word.
Eventually, Melinda got bored. She gave Maisy a half–smile and said, “I’m going to walk around, Mrs. Huffman. You don’t have to follow me–I’ll be fine.”
Before Maisy could answer, Melinda had already disappeared into the crowd, champagne glass in hand.
0
Less than ten minutes later, a sharp, familiar scream sliced through the noise.
Maisy sprinted toward the sound and found a spoiled rich kid gripping Melinda’s wrist so tight her fingers were turning white. “Stop pretending you’re so innocent. There isn’t a woman in this city I can’t have!”
“Get your hands off me, you creep!” Melinda’s eyes were blazing as she tried to yank herself free. “Maybe I’m poor, but I still have pride. I’m not letting you treat me like this!”
Maisy was about to step in when she saw Melinda whip a tiny, shining knife from her purse.
It flashed–and a thin line of blood appeared on the guy’s cheek.
He roared and raised his hand to hit her.
But before he could, a dark figure tore through the crowd.
Patrick’s fist cracked against the man’s face.
Maisy stood rooted to the spot, watching as Patrick, wild and furious, punched him again and again–until the man’s face was a bloody mess.
