A Quiet Line Crossed

A Quiet Line Crossed

After a moment’s pause, James added blandly, “When you’re with that old classmate of yours, make sure you don’t let yourself get taken advantage of”

The second she heard him mention that so–called old classmate–who didn’t even exist–Lily’s heart skipped a beat.

She figured he probably just wanted her and that imaginary guy to get together as soon as possible. That way. Henry might finally approve the divorce, and James would be free.

He’d already done so much for her tonight. She definitely owed him a bit of reassurance. Without missing a beat, she said, “Don’t worry, we’re doing great. We’re really in love. He’s such a good person–kind and caring. I feel really happy when I’m with him. Honestly… we might even get married after we finalize the divorce. And when that happens, you’re invited.”

She turned toward the front seat and tacked on, out of politeness, “You too, Ashton. You’ll both have to come to the wedding.”

“Mm.”

James knew Lily had been getting along well with her supposed old classmate, but he hadn’t expected things to have progressed to the point of marriage.

He’d been wishing she’d settle down quickly with someone else.

But for some reason, hearing her say it aloud didn’t bring the relief he’d expected.

Instead, a strange discomfort stirred inside him. And, just like that, he didn’t feel like talking anymore.

He didn’t look at her again, simply turned his face toward the window and stared silently at the traffic streaming by.

Ashton, meanwhile, was about ready to drop dead from the shock.

He and the boss were supposed to go to Madam’s wedding?

the crowning ceremony of the man

seemed

what Henry had told him–about

urging him to keep an eye on things

hoped the boss could straighten out and live

only wanted to toast

all the gear

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already gotten the tent ready per the boss’s Instructions. But he couldn’t exactly follow around twenty–four seven. What if the boss and the guy did stuff in

with a grim expression, soul thoroughly crushed. What

mostly recovered. She didn’t want

his appearance. But once they

crisp white shirt–always spotless–was

voice barely more than a whisper, she said. “James, I’m so

offer to pay him

it up and instead added. “I’ll

“Mm.”

down at his

into the fabric.

didn’t

a mild cleanliness obsession since he was a child. He didn’t like people

in his arms,

had stained his shirt, but even that hadn’t

instead was the memory of her tears falling, one after another, and how

lifted his eyes again, he saw the red marks

pupils constricted slightly. Then, cool and detached, he said, “Go shower and put some

a change of clothes

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