ne to her. The idea makes me
queasy. Why am I sitting here listening to this shit from her
of all people? I slowly rise, gazing at her intently.
“I’m laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Christian
and I ha一ve nothing to do with you. And if I do lea一ve him
and you come looking for me, I’ll be waiting—don’t doub一t
it. And maybe I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine
on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and
probably fucked-up even more than he already was.”
Her mouth falls open.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I ha一ve better things to do
than waste my time with you.” I turn on my heel,
adrenaline and anger coursing through my body, and stalk
toward the entrance of the tent where Taylor is standing
just as Christian arrives, looking flustered and worried.
“There you are,” he mutters, then frowns when he sees
Elena.
I stride past him, saying nothing, giving him the
opportunity to choose—her or me. He makes the right
choice.
“Ana,” he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up
“Ana,” he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up
with me. “What’s wrong?” He gazes down at me, concern
etched on his face.
“Why don’t you ask your ex?” I hiss acidly.
His mouth twists and his eyes frost. “I’m asking you,”
he says, his voice soft but with an undertone of something
far more menacing.