Too Late To Love Your Mute Wife

Aubree stared through the open car door, her eyes locked on the figure standing at the top of the stone steps.

It was a woman wearing a flowing white silk dress. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, blowing gently in the ocean breeze. It was Allyson Pennington. Godfrey's former fiancée.

Godfrey saw her too. The dark, violent storm that had been brewing in his eyes all morning completely vanished. His face relaxed.

He stepped out of the car and walked quickly up the steps.

Allyson smiled brightly. She opened her arms wide as he approached.

Godfrey wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and pressed a natural, lingering kiss to her cheek.

Aubree forced her stiff legs to move. She climbed out of the car, her high heels sinking slightly into the gravel. Her ankle rolled, sending a sharp pain up her calf, but she caught her balance.

Neither Godfrey nor Allyson looked back at her. She followed them up the steps like an unwanted servant carrying luggage.

They walked into the massive, double-height living room. Genevieve, Godfrey's mother, was sitting on a tufted velvet sofa, holding a teacup.

When Genevieve saw Allyson, she stood up immediately. A massive smile broke across her face.

"My dear girl," Genevieve said, reaching out to grab both of Allyson's hands. "It is so wonderful to see you."

Aubree stopped at the edge of the Persian rug. She stood perfectly still, keeping her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach.

Genevieve shifted her gaze. Her smile dropped instantly when she saw Aubree. She looked Aubree up and down, her eyes lingering on the dark tweed dress.

"That color makes you look like an old widow," Genevieve said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Aubree lowered her chin. She raised her hands and signed, Good afternoon, Mother.

Genevieve rolled her eyes and turned her head away. "Stop waving your hands at me. I do not understand those monkey gestures."

Aubree's hands froze in the air. A hot flush of deep humiliation burned her cheeks. She slowly lowered her arms back to her sides.

Allyson linked her arm through Genevieve's. "The art exhibition in Paris was exhausting, but the gallery sold out," Allyson said, her voice smooth and sweet, completely ignoring the tension.

Genevieve laughed, patting Allyson's arm.

Godfrey handed his suit jacket to a waiting butler. He stood near the fireplace, watching Allyson with a soft, attentive expression Aubree had never received.

Aubree felt completely invisible. She took a small step backward, planning to slip away into the hallway and hide in a guest room.

"Aubree," Allyson called out suddenly.

Aubree stopped.

Allyson walked over to her, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. She stopped right in front of Aubree and tilted her head, her eyes locking onto Aubree's neck.

"Oh my," Allyson said, raising her voice so it carried across the entire room. "Are you having an allergic reaction? Your neck is covered in awful red marks."

Godfrey's head snapped toward them. His face darkened instantly. He stared at the bruises he had violently left on her skin the night before, his jaw clenching. He thought she had intentionally done a poor job covering them up to mark her territory.

Genevieve let out a harsh scoff. "The daughter of a bankrupt fraud always has cheap, sensitive skin."

Aubree bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall.

Allyson turned around and looked at Godfrey, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"Anyway," Allyson smiled, "I have some wonderful news. I am moving back to New York permanently."