Chapter 58

But the real tragedy wasn’t the weight I’d lost. It was the equal standing I’d surrendered.

The elevator dinged. Jared strode out but paused long enough to toss over his shoulder, “Wait in the car. I need a smoke.”

“Didn’t you drive?” I asked.

“No.” He didn’t elaborate, just walked off toward the designated smoking area.

Jared rarely smokes, only when something was eating at him. So why now? He just spent the evening crooning love songs with his mistress. Shouldn’t he be floating on cloud nine? Unless my presence ruined the fantasy, reminded him how cheap the whole thing really was.

I smirked and slid into the car. Let him stew.

A few minutes later, Jared appeared, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure under the parking lot lights. He yanked open the passenger door and dropped into the seat like a man settling into a courtroom bench – all stiff posture and silent authority.

Lately, he’d been riding shotgun in my car more often, but in the past, it never would’ve happened.

I turned the key in the ignition and couldn’t resist needling him. “You know, we really shouldn’t be in the same car anymore. Safety hazard.”

Jared shot me a look that could freeze lava. “Just drive.”

I sighed dramatically. “Even if I focus, some idiot could still T-bone us. Rich couples are supposed to travel separately – eggs in different baskets and all that.”

“Victoria.” His voice went icy. “Shut up and drive.”

Honestly, I was just trying to make it clear he shouldn’t ride with me anymore. The less time trapped in this metal box with him, the better.

We arrived home well past midnight to an unusually quiet house. Sally had kept Yvonne overnight – probably guilt over the kid getting sick on her watch. With both Jared and me working now, Sally seemed determined to overcompensate.

After showering, I wore my nightgown and stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying my reflection.

Months of clean eating, dance classes, and yoga had sculpted me into better shape than I’d been in years, but this recent cold had whittled away those last few stubborn pounds, leaving me looking almost fragile.

As I turned to apply my nighttime serum, I nearly dropped the bottle. Jared sat motionless on the edge of my bed. When had he slipped in? He moved like a ghost these days – first invading my passenger seat, and now my bedroom.

“Honey, I’m sick,” I announced preemptively, layering my voice with exaggerated weakness.

His eyes flicked up. “I know.” That deep voice carried its usual finality. “I’m not here for that.”

The declaration hung between us. Then why was he here? Just to share a bed? This from the man who’d once insisted he couldn’t sleep with another person’s breathing disturbing him. At this point, I didn’t know which version of Jared to believe.

I finished my routine in silence, slid under the covers, and willed myself to sleep.

Jared’s hand shot out, pressing against my forehead without warning.

I stiffened, meeting his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Checking for a fever,” he said tersely, like I’d inconvenienced him.

“I’ve had meds for two days. No fever,” I countered immediately.

“Then why the hell were you clapping like that tonight?” His voice was sharp, irritation flashing across his face. “I thought you were delirious or something. What’s your excuse?”

Showtime. I put on my most earnest expression. “Because you were amazing, darling. I never realized how good your voice was before.”

Jared studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching. Then, voice dropping low, he asked, “Tracy and I sang a love song. Doesn’t that bother you?”