TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 13

Thirteen

Lisa POV

I sat in the back seat while Franklin drove, my hands folded in my lap like a child being brought home from school.

The hospital disappeared behind us, but I could still feel Evangeline’s cold fingers wrapped around mine.

She had called me sister.

I stared through the window as the city slid past. Cars, storefronts, pedestrians. None of it registered. My thoughts dragged through a thick fog.

What had just happened in that room?

Evangeline’s voice kept circling in my head.

I wish I could carry his child myself. I’m sorry you have to go through this.

She had been kind.

Too kind.

And I felt like a thief sitting in the back of this car

Like my presence in that room had violated something sacred between them.

Cameron hadn’t looked at me.

Not once.

But I had seen the way he looked at her.

That kind of devotion didn’t belong in the real world. It was raw, desperate, the kind of love that made everything else feel small and unnecessary.

Franklin’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Are you doing okay back there?”

I realized I had been holding my breath and forced my lungs to work again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re quiet.”

“Just tired.”

The word sounded thin even to me.

Tired didn’t explain the weight pressing against my chest.

Franklin studied me through the rearview mirror.

“Rough visit?”

I hesitated.

“She’s dying.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Franklin’s expression shifted. Something closer to amusement.

“She’s not dying anytime soon,” he said.

I looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“Don’t make yourself miserable over it. Evangeline’s tougher than she looks.”

That didn’t match the woman I had just seen lying in that hospital bed.

Questions rose in my throat.

I swallowed them.

Franklin clearly wasn’t interested in explaining, so I nodded and turned back to the window.

The mansion looked different in daylight.

Franklin pulled the car to a stop in front of the main entrance and stepped out to open my door.

“Need anything?” he asked.

“No. Thank you.”

“Get some rest.”

I climbed the steps alone.

A servant opened the doors before I reached them and stepped aside to let me pass.

I chose the chair at the very end.

The servant returned with a plate. Grilled chicken over salad, fresh bread, sliced fruit.

Everything was arranged perfectly.

I forced myself to take a few bites. The food had favor, I could tell that much. But my stomach refused to cooperate.

Evangeline’s face kept rising in my mind. The way tears slid down her cheeks as she apologized to me. The way Nadia interrupted her when she tried to explain her illness.

I pushed the plate away.

The servant returned, cleared the dish without comment, and left the room again.

Back in my room, the portrait I had turned earlier still faced the wall.

The abstract painting I had hung in its place looked loud and ugly against the soft colors of the room.

Guilt pressed down on me.

What right did I have to hide her?

This was Evangeline’s home.

Her mate.

Her life.

I was the stranger. A temporary arrangement.

A means to an end.

I walked to the wall and lifted the abstract painting down.

It leaned against the baseboard while I picked up Evangeline’s portrait and hung it back where it belonged.

Her painted smile returned to the room.

She deserved the place of honor.

Not me.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at her.

For a long time, neither of us moved.