Five years, and not once had he offered to drive me, even when I was seriously ill, even when it rained so hard the roads were almost flooded. Work and personal life were always separate. But Lacey? On her first day, she’d been chauffeured around by the Mafia Don himself.
I shook my head, grabbed my keys, and brushed past him, trying not to let the tears spill. I had one foot out the door when I heard Keaton's phone ring. "Alissa, wait—"
I stopped, my breath catching, thinking maybe he would apologize. Maybe he would ask what was wrong. Maybe...
But he answered a call instead. "Lacey, yeah. I'll be there soon. Just wait for me."
I didn’t look back as I stepped outside, into the bitter morning air. But as I walked to my car, I heard the faintest echo from inside.
"Oh, is Alissa upset?" It was Lacey, her voice tinged with that fake sweetness, dripping with mock concern. "Maybe you should talk to her, Keaton."
I turned to see Keaton now standing next to her at the entrance of the house.
"No. Let her be," he said, his voice dismissive. "She didn’t want to come with me anyway."