#Chapter 32 – Slut

“Ian, you need to slow down!” I call after him, shaking my head as he bursts through Victor’s back door like a tornado. Alvin isn’t far behind him. “Boys –“

I step into the kitchen moments later and see that they’ve left chaos on their wake. Their backpacks are thrown on the floor and four little shoes dot their path up the stairs. The greatest casualty yet, Amelia stands with her mouth still open in a gasp, looking after them with tea splashed all over the island and her white sweater.

“Oh, god,” I say, quickly moving to the paper towels. “I’m so sorry Amelia, did they startle you?” Ripping one free, I quickly work to mop up the mess on the kitchen island where she was sitting. Then, on mom instinct, I reach to dab at her sweater

“I’ve got it,” she says, twisting away from me with a dirty look.

Yup. Great one, Evelyn, not only have your sons ruined her sweater but now you’ve tried to pat her chest with a paper towel. Awesome.

“I really am sorry – they’re just hurricanes with legs. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning of the sweater,” I offer, lamely.

“Don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, carefully applying water at the sink. “It’s last season, anyway.”

As Amelia is distracted, I stare at her. God, she really is more beautiful in person than on the fashion magazines, if that’s possible. Standing next to her, I feel every inch the country mouse next to a swan.

Our relationship is, at best, frosty. I guess this is understandable, I think, watching her clean her sweater. I’m a constant reminder of a passionate night Victor had six years ago. And considering that Victor and I have grown closer lately…well. In her position, I guess I’d be cold too.

Amelia catches me looking and meets my eye unhesitatingly. I try a soft smile and she smirks, moving to the teapot to make another cup.

“Would you…” I venture, “make me one as well?”

Amelia shrugs and gets a second mug out of the cabinet. I sit down at the island. Victor has made it clear that he doesn’t think Amelia has anything at all to do with our sons’ kidnapping. I still have my doubts, but if Victor believes her, that means Amelia is going to be sticking around. If she’s going to be my sons’ stepmom, then I both of our lives would be better if we could come to some kind of agreement. A friendship, even.

“Um, it’s a lovely sweater.” I venture, trying to start somewhere, anywhere. “Where did you get it?”

“Paris.” She says shortly. Of course. Everything she owns is from Paris.

“I spent some time in Paris,” I say as Amelia drops teabags into the mugs. “When I was a teenager.”

She turns to look at me, giving me rather a withering stare. “That’s funny,” she says. “I would have had no idea.”

it was. She’s

planning to

at the island. “Yes, for the fashion. This year I’ll be taking Victor with me.” She leaves my mug on the

tea. As I return to my seat, Amelia flips through the magazine that she was looking at before the boys came and interrupted her day. Determined to make headway, I put on a sunny

that

and then holds up the magazine so that I can see it. It’s a picture of her, looking absolutely stunning in a white wedding gown that’s cut

can get it though, she snaps the magazine back and continues

your wedding gown?”

the shoot. That dress is too risqué for Victor. Not that he dislikes it, but he wants a more…traditional look, for

glad she’s talking. “And if it were

have three different gowns –

It wouldn’t be my choice, but

says, looking up at

Victor,”

magazines. “We got this amazing chateau off the coast that’s totally exclusive, so no paparazzi, and nobody I don’t

of champagne flown in from France, private jets to get all the guests to and from the island – and absolutely everyone is coming. It’s going to

I say, genuinely impressed. “And then, the

at me as she pulls out of her

that’s the wedding,” I say. “What

to Victor is everything I ever wanted. Of

considering. “I thought…Victor wanted to start a family right

attention back to the magazine. “Victor doesn’t know

her, for a moment, thinking to myself that Victor seems to know exactly what he wants: a marriage,

were her – I mean hell, I was her. Six years ago I was a girl a few

Amelia,” I say, “I was married once

says, holding my gaze. “Yeah, I heard all about that.” Her voice drips with

wedding too, but then after all the excitement was gone, I realized that I didn’t

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