‘I guess.’ Lily nodded, wishing she could be comforted, but each word cut like a knife because each word spelt out the inevitable end.
‘I don’t think that’s all that’s upsetting you, though,’ Hunter said, and her stomach tightened. ‘Is it what your mother said about your father?’
‘Leave it.’ She shook her head, her resolve not to cry weakening.
He noticed, his warm thumb absorbing a mascara-laced tear before it even fell. ‘I know how you feel, Lily.’
‘No, Hunter.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t.’
‘I lost my parents last year,’ Hunter pointed out, perhaps to elicit sympathy, perhaps to show that he really did understand, but Lily knew that there was no way he could, no way he could know the pain her mother’s words had evoked, the utter wretchedness of being privy to a secret you wished you’d never found out. ‘You’ll never understand how I feel.’
‘Try me,’ Hunter offered, but again she shook her head. His wife she may be, but her emotions, her secrets were hers. She still owned herself and no piece of paper, no amount of money could ever change that.
‘I’m going to go and freshen up.’ She pushed him away, pushed him away because if she spent another second in his arms, she’d tell him her pain, let him in on the secret she’s sworn she’d never reveal. And she was truly scared at how much she wanted to. ‘I’ll meet you back in there.’
It was a relief to be alone, to close a heavy door on the revelry of the wedding and mute the sounds to more manageable proportions, to stare at her reflection in the mirror and somehow attempt to find herself, to gather up the strewn emotions and arrange them in a semblance of order. Only it wasn’t going to happen tonight! Somehow she managed a smile as a very good-looking woman came in and joined her at the mirror, catching Lily’s eyes as she leant forward in the mirror and checked her expertly made-up face.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ Her voice was as expensive as her outfit and Lily tried to place her, but realised they hadn’t been introduced because she certainly wasn’t someone you’d forget in hurry—black, glossy hair rippled down olive shoulders, her tall, elegant frame exquisitely draped in a silver sheath of a dress. And even though it was her own wedding, the bride felt rather drab in comparison, especially when the stunning creature proceeded to rearrange her ample cleavage.
‘Immensely.’ Lily gave what she hoped was a suitable response. ‘I don’t think we were introduced.’
‘We weren’t!’ Gold eyes caught Lily’s and held them. ‘I was too busy working. I’m the one who organised this wedding. I’m the one you have to thank for your immensely enjoyable day!’
Stunning she might be, but she had that raw, dangerous glint in her eyes of a woman suffering the wounds of a recent break-up, and at that moment Lily realised who she was dealing with—the woman Hunter had declared was well and truly over him!
Thanks a lot, Hunter, Lily inwardly groaned as she mustered all her people skills to deal with this rather uncomfortable situation. ‘You must be Abigail,’ Lily attempted, trying to defuse this rather volatile situation. ‘Hunter speaks very highly of you and I can see why. You’ve done an amazing job. Thank you.’
‘Oh, it’s far more than a job.’ Abigail’s face was dangerously close, so close Lily could smell the excess champagne on her breath, could feel the hatred and anger coursing from her livid body. ‘I assume you’re expecting me to offer my congratulations?’
‘After these last few weeks I’ve learned never to assume anything,’ Lily answered, declining the rather provocative question and instead attempting to end things. But Abigail had clearly waited for this moment, had no doubt spent the last weeks planning not just the wedding but the confrontation, too, and Lily realised with an inward sigh unless she was willing to push past her and make a rapid exit from the ladies’ room, she didn’t have much option other than to let Abigail have her angry say.
‘Hunter’s incapable of remaining faithful for five minutes. Trust me, I know.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Lily responded tightly, glancing at the door and wishing someone—anyone—would come in.
‘Don’t turn your back for a second, Mrs Myles, because if it isn’t me then I can guarantee there will be someone else willing and waiting.’
‘Feel free,’ Lily answered, ‘but know you’re in for one helluva wait—I happen to trust my husband.’
‘Then you’re a fool.’ Abigail spat, tossing her hair and walking out.