Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two by Kat Faitour Page B

“After all, I have the photos to prove it.”
    Angeline gagged, nausea heaving her empty stomach. She clenched her hands until her nails dug deep moons into her palms. “What do you want, Edward? What’s the point to all this?”
    For a second, he seemed taken aback. “You, of course. I want you , Angela.”  
    A small spurt of satisfaction brightened her despair. At least he wasn’t calling her Angel anymore. “Edward, I’ve moved on. I’m a wife and—” She cut herself off. A deep foreboding assailed her, cautioning her against the mention of Devon. “I’m happy. I don’t want to hurt you.” She wanted to murder him, strangle him until the air withered in his lungs and his heart seized on its final beat. “But I moved on. A long time ago. There’s nothing left for us.”
    He stamped a foot in fury, like a child thwarted. “No!” His voice was shrill and uncontrolled. “No, Angela, you mustn’t say that!” His face was mottled a deep red. Even his scalp, where the hair was thinning, was pink with temper. “Listen,” he needled, “I’ve surprised you. I’ve had much longer to think about this, to remember how special we were. I can give you more time. I know you’ll see.”
    She kept her face blank, despite the vomit churning her stomach.  
    “And Angela? I won’t mess up. I know I drove you away the last time, but I’m better now. It’ll be perfect, just you wait.”
    He walked off, blithely unconcerned that he’d ripped her to shreds and left her bleeding out in the gazebo.
    Her life, her beautiful recreated life, was destroyed.

CHAPTER FIVE

    C LOSING THE DOOR quietly behind him, John entered the bedroom suite he and Angeline shared. A glass-shaded lamp dimly lit the corner where his wife sat, legs tucked beneath her, in an overstuffed linen upholstered armchair.  
    “I thought you might be asleep.”
    Angeline jolted a little, as if she’d been unaware of his entrance. She unfolded her legs, bringing her feet to the floor. “No, I couldn’t.”
    “Ang, everyone’s emotions ran high this afternoon.” He walked towards her, stopping several feet away when he saw her tightly knit hands lying in her lap. She’d scrubbed her face clean of any make-up, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.
    She bit her lip. “How’s Devon?”
    “She’s fine. She was fine within fifteen minutes after you left. You just broke her feelings a little, that’s all.”
    “I think I broke yours too.”
    “I was surprised,” he admitted. “You’re always so patient and careful with her. You revealed a hellfire temper back there, and it shook me. I’ve never seen anything like that from you. Let alone with Devvie.”
    Angeline’s mouth tilted in a scant, sad smile.  
    “Ang?”
    She tilted her head. “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry I came down on you so hard. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t kind.”
    She dipped her chin before pulling in a deep breath. She opened wet tawny eyes to meet his. “John, don’t be nice to me. I don’t think I can take it.”
    He quickly joined her, taking a seat on the ottoman facing the chair. He took her clenched hands in his. “Stop. She’s fine. Frankly, you seem the worse for wear.” Taking in her pale face and haunted eyes, he was struck by guilt. Chafing her cold hands in his, he continued. “I overreacted. And I’m truly, deeply sorry.”
    Her chin wobbled before a sob broke free. Alarmed, John stood, scooped her into his arms, and settled back on the ottoman. He kissed the top of her head, holding her close despite some resistance on her behalf.  
    “Let it out, Ang.”  
    His words broke the dam on the control she was exerting. She collapsed against his chest, crying her heart out.  
    He held her, gently rubbing her back as she soaked his shirt with her tears. A long time passed and John realized Angeline had been holding too much inside for too long. He murmured, comforting her as best he could when he felt helplessly inadequate.
    Finally, her