I know I shouldn’t have stayed.
I should have said no the second he asked, but I didn’t. After I agreed, we had lunch in the garden—right by the waterfall I used to sit by when I wanted peace. We barely spoke. I just watched him eat, making sure he cleared his plate before we were done.
I didn’t say anything when he reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine.
I didn’t say anything as we walked through the winding path toward the parking lot, the silence stretching long between us.
I didn’t say anything as he opened the car door for me, driving us to that cottage he used to frequent with Beatrice.
And now—now he’s towering over me, his mouth pressed to my neck, warm and firm. His hands are on me, fingers sliding up to my breasts.
It’s already past seven.
I flinch when he
