Shaking my head, I mutter, “One day, someone is going to follow you home.”

“Please, if someone ever followed me, they would have to deal with Evan. You and I both know they would run for the hills the second they saw him.


“True.” I grin at my feet as I walk across the marble entryway toward the door, knowing she’s right. Evan would lose his mind if someone even looked at her in a way he didn’t like, especially now that she’s pregnant.

“But seriously, is checking Facebook so damn important that you can’t wait until you get home?” she grumbles.

“I wouldn’t know. After MySpace went up in smoke, I gave up on social media.” I smile, hearing her laugh. “Hold on a sec. Let me see who’s here.” I pull my cell from my ear and lean up on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. “Fuck me.” I close my eyes when I see none other than the she-bitch-from-hell standing on the front porch.

“Who’s there?” June asks, and I grit my teeth.

“Take a wild guess.”

“Please tell me that bitch is not at your house.”

“I won’t tell you then.” I sigh, wondering if I should just ignore her and pray that she goes away.

“Don’t answer it. I’ll be there in less than two.”

“I can hear you in there,” Isla calls, and I lean my head back.

“God, even her voice is annoying,” June gripes, and I groan as Isla pounds on the door.

“I just want to talk,” she yells, and my hand balls into a fist at my side.

“Do you want me to call Dillon?” June questions softly, and I think about it for a second, but the idea of him dealing with her doesn’t sit well with me… or the ugly green monster that lives in my head.

“No.”

“Well, I’m pulling down the drive now.”

“What does she even want?” I whisper, more to myself than my cousin.

“Who knows, but you’re not dealing with her alone,” she mutters as I hear the sound of her car getting closer then the crunch of gravel, and a moment later, I hear her car door slam. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asks loud enough for me to hear through the door. Hanging up my cell phone, I turn the knob and swing the door open.

“I just want to talk,” Isla says softly, turning to face me, looking remorseful.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.” I cross my arms over my chest as a chill from the wind slides over my skin.

“I know you hate me.” Snorting, I shake my head as June steps up onto the porch and comes to stand next to me, resting her hands on her very pregnant, very round stomach. “Dillon and I—”

“There is no Dillon and you,” June puts in. Isla’s attention slides to her, and I see the icy look in her eyes before she hides it behind a look of sadness.

“My family has been his only family since his parents passed away. I don’t want your hate for me to take him away from my parents.”

“I would never stop him from having a relationship with anyone. He’s his own person. He can do what he likes.”

“Then why hasn’t he returned any of our calls? Why wouldn’t he see me when I went by the office today?”

Shrugging, I answer silently while wondering if she went to the office before or after he came home, and why he didn’t tell me that she was in town, even if he didn’t meet with her. Really, I haven’t thought much about her over the last few weeks, but seeing her standing in front of me now, I wonder if she hates me enough to try and hurt me.

“Where were you three days ago?” I ask, and she frowns, making a wrinkle pop out between her perfectly plucked brows.

“What?”

“Where were you three days ago?” I repeat, studying her.

“I don’t know, home.” She shrugs, smoothing her hands down her waist and hips.

“So you weren’t in Tennessee?” June asks, seeing what I’m getting at with my questions.

“No, I just flew in this morning. Why?”

“Just curious,” I mutter, waving my hand out, and her eyes move to it and narrow.

“Is that your wedding ring?” My eyes drop to the band on my finger and I ball my hand into a fist to keep it on, as if her seeing it will cause it to disappear. “He didn’t give you his mom’s ring?” she whispers, and even though I know she’s not talking to me and it’s just an observation, her words are a direct shot to my gut and I feel my legs get weak.

“Are you done?” June asks, and her head turns toward my cousin.

“I—”

“You’re done,” June states, not giving her a chance to finish her reply as she crowds me back into the house behind her.

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