Page 19
Chapter 19 of "Possessive Sinner" starts here: And now… for the first time in a long time, I don't want to stay... Discover what happens next!
And now… for the first time in a long time, I don't want to stay inside the lines. "Well," Maggie claps her hands, stepping back and admiring me. "Now you really look like you belong at a ball."
Mom nods approvingly from the couch. "Go. Have fun. We'll be perfectly fine here."
"We will," Maggie adds. "Promise."
My phone dings with an incoming message.
Pete:
I'm sorry. I ordered you an Uber. Have fun. Love you.
Maggie is not even pretending that she's not looking over my shoulder.
"Your brother," I fill her in as if she didn't already know that.
"You married him," she quips back.
She's got a point.
“You know how some people say daughters marry their fathers?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard this.”
“Well in my case, I think I married my mother.”
Maggie almost chokes on the wine she was taking a sip of. She laughs so hard, she snorts and tears stream out of her eyes. It’s contagiously enough for me to join in, but in all honesty, I’m not sure if I was truly joking.
Graciously, I respond.
Me:
Thank you. I'll miss you.
A few minutes later, Maggie and I step out into the cool evening air, and soon the Uber arrives. Maggie hugs me enthusiastically. "I know this isn't what you wanted. But you'll have fun. You'll see."
Playfully, I kiss her cheek before I hop into the tiny electric car. Seems like my luck has finally run out as I fight the tulle and layers upon layers of my skirt for any room in the backseat.
"Wow, I've never driven someone like you before," the driver announces.
I giggle, and the first embers of excitement ignite in my stomach.
"To the Dominion, please," I tell him, like he didn't already know that.
As the headlights sweep down the street, another wave of resentment overcomes me. Pete should be here. With me. A dull anger sparks in my stomach. I try to suppress it, but this time it won't stay down. It fights its way through until it's properly acknowledged.
It's not just tonight, a sigh escapes me.
"What was that?" the driver asks.
"Nothing, I'm just brooding, don't mind me," I try to joke it off.
"I hope you're meeting someone at the Dominion," he keeps up the small talk.
Despite myself, I answer, "My husband couldn't make it. Work."
"That sucks, bro," he commiserates. "I'd never let someone like you out of my sight. If you don't mind me saying that."
I don't. Truthfully, his words are like a balm to my wounded ego, which has taken a lot of beatings lately.