Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty–one
- Twenty–two
- Twenty–three
- Twenty–four
- Twenty–five
- Twenty–six
- Twenty–seven
- Twenty–eight
- Twenty–nine
- Thirty
- Thirty–one
- Thirty–two
- Thirty–three
- Thirty–four
- Thirty–five
- Thirty–six
- Thirty–seven
- Thirty–eight
- Thirty–nine
- Forty
- Forty–one
- Forty–two
- Forty–three
- Forty–four
- Forty–five
- Forty–six
- Forty–seven
- Forty–eight
- Forty–nine
- Fifty
- Fifty–one
- Fifty–two
- Fifty–three
- Fifty–four
- Fifty–five
- Fifty–six
- Fifty–seven
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“You broke my mother’s Lladró,” she said, too shocked to hide her sadness or her body.
“Sorry,” he muttered, but even he knew it didn’t sound that way.
Maybe his tone was what set her in a different direction, not reading him well, not realizing the kind of day he’d had and taking it as a warning. “You don’t sound sorry. You sound like you’ve sounded for the past week.”
“What have I sounded like?”
“Like you don’t care about me anymore. Like you don’t notice that I’m hurt. Look at me! I’m hurting, Jerry! My life coach today said I should share my feelings with you.”
“So share.”
“I did! I am! Ever since your little friend stopped by.”
“What friend? When?”
“I told you. A week ago.”
Beaufort got himself under some control. He was able to ask the question without grabbing Gloria and smacking the answer out of her. “What friend?” he asked.
“She said her name is Brigid Quinn. She said she knew you. She didn’t appear to know about me.” Gloria’s sadness and hurt were taking over now, and if she noticed the change come over Beaufort when she said the woman’s name, she ignored it. “You don’t want to go out with my friends, but you have your own and you don’t invite me. Her.”
Beaufort lifted the coffee table, and the pieces of broken statue dusted the floor around it. He threw the table across the room, where it hit the flat-screen television set and made a funny slash in the surface rather than cracking it the way it would if it had been glass. The television tottered on its base and then fell forward off its stand.
Beaufort darted here and there in the room, cursing and looking for what all to break. He noticed Gloria and his brain clicked to breaking her.
She saw him coming. Rather than fight, or run, she slid to her ass in the corner of the nook leading to the bedroom. She drew her knees up close to her and folded her arms around them. She ducked her head to make herself smaller, as small as she could get. It appeared she knew how this drill went, from other times and other men, and she knew that she stood the best chance of survival if she cowered.