Three's a Crowd

Chapter 2

The next morning, the bitter smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

I sat at the dining table, reading the Lindenstadt Institute's onboarding guide on my tablet.

Professor Klaus, the institute's chief scientist, emailed me:

Professor Klaus: Ivy, your visa has been approved, and your apartment in Lindenstadt is ready. We need your final confirmation before next Monday.

I lifted my glass, took a sip of water, and typed a single letter on the screen.

Steady footsteps sounded behind me.

Adrian's untied tie hung loosely around the collar of his white shirt.

As he always did, he came up behind me, leaned down, and rested his chin on the top of my head.

"Didn't sleep well?" His gaze settled on the empty table. "No oatmeal today?"

I quickly locked my tablet, stood up, and put some distance between us.

"No. And there won't be any from now on."

His arms met empty air. He straightened, frowning slightly.

But he didn't get angry. He simply assumed I was sulking about having to change rooms yesterday.

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and took a black supplementary credit card from his wallet. He slid it toward me.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that yesterday. Sylvia just got back, and she's in a temper. Be a little more patient with her."

He wiped his hands with the napkin on the table, speaking as though soothing an upset kitten. "Take this card and go buy that coat you've been wanting on Waverly Street. Once I'm done with work in a few days, I'll take you to that modern art exhibition."

He remembered the coat I'd mentioned in passing. He remembered the art exhibition I wanted to see.

Every time he hurt me, he offered just enough compensation to push me back into the role of his obedient wife.

But he'd forgotten that the exhibition had closed last week.

"No, thanks." I pushed the card back. "I don't need a coat."

His eyes darkened. Before he could speak, slippers scuffed against the stairs.

Sylvia came down in a silk robe, still looking sleepy.

It was the robe I'd left in the primary bedroom's walk-in closet. I hadn't even taken the tag off it.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the black card. She reached over and took it.

"Wow, Adrian. You're finally willing to hand over that extra card? Perfect. I saw a ruby jewelry set in Valenne. You don't mind if I put it on your card, do you?"

Much of the tension left his face as he looked at her.

"Didn't you swear in Valenne that you'd never spend another cent of my money?"

"Why would anyone turn down money?" Sylvia rolled her eyes at him and pulled out the chair beside me. Then she turned to give me an order. "Ivy, get me a cup of warm milk with two sugar cubes."

I looked at her entitled expression and smiled.

I picked up the glass pitcher on the table and, right in front of her, poured its water into the sink.

"The water dispenser's in the foyer. There's a microwave in the kitchen. If you want milk, heat it yourself."

Sylvia's expression changed instantly.

"Ivy! What's with that attitude? I'm your older sister!"

"You're my sister, not my employer." I turned and met her eyes. "I'm not obligated to wait on you in this house."

"Adrian!" Sylvia stamped her foot and turned to the man across the table. "Look at her! She never even dared to raise her voice at home. Now that she's Mrs. Reed, she thinks she can treat me like this!"

Adrian set down his coffee cup.

Its base struck the marble tabletop with a dull thud.

He looked at me with that familiar, oppressive scrutiny.

"Ivy, apologize to Sylvia. She's willful. Do you have to be unreasonable too? You're the lady of this house. Show some generosity."

"Generosity?"

The word felt like a needle in my chest, leaving a dull ache.

When Sylvia ran out on her wedding 4 years ago, the entire Fairhaven press had been waiting to laugh at the Reeds and our family.

I'd been the one to walk up to that cold altar in a wedding dress hastily altered to fit my smaller frame.

During our 4 years of marriage, I'd cared for his mother, who had Alzheimer's disease. I'd handled every difficult social obligation for him at receptions, ironed every shirt, and seen him through every sudden nighttime bout of stomach pain.

When he came to bed blind drunk, leaving me bruised all over as he had s*x with me and called Sylvia's name again and again, I'd never raised a word of protest.

Now he wanted generosity.

"What if I don't apologize?" I asked.