CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Dinner with the Wilsons. A while back, I would have been really enthusiastic about them. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sit through a dinner being praised for being such a good, hardworking wife for their son? I would be showered with endless praises and Dane would look at me, smiling and proclaiming his love for me. I believed him then. I believed all of them.
Now, it was just one of those dinners you prayed that you wouldn’t end up in police custody for shooting someone. If I had to smile one more time and pretend to reciprocate Dane’s touchiness, I would lose it.
“You know, you two should start thinking about kids,” Mrs. Wilson changed the subject and I froze with a glass of water a few inches away from my lips.
I looked at Dane, and saw him clench his jaw a bit.
