Chapter 91 #91
Chapter 91
~Shailyn's POV~
I walk back to the dining room, my heart still racing from the hallway encounter.
Why did Dwayne have to corner me like that? Why did he have to look at me with those eyes, so full of concern and hurt?
I shouldn't feel guilty. I'm married to Dante. I'm carrying his baby. This is where I belong.
But the guilt sits heavy in my chest anyway.
I slide back into my seat beside Dante, and he immediately takes my hand.
"You okay?" he whispers.
"Fine. Just tired."
I look around the table. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Tyler's expression is carefully neutral, but there's something sharp in his eyes. Cynthia looks like she might be sick.
"Did I miss something?" I ask.
"No," Dante says quickly. "Nothing."
Jack leans back in his chair, that cold smile still on his face. "Actually, I think we're just getting started."
"What does that mean?" Monica asks, laughing nervously.
"Just that I'm enjoying getting to know everyone." Jack's eyes find mine. "Especially you, Shailyn."
"Me?"
"Your father and I were very close friends. Before he passed."
The room goes completely silent.
I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. "You... you knew my father?"
"I did. He was one of the best men I ever knew."
Tyler's face sharpens with something, pain, maybe? But he doesn't say anything. Just sits there, gripping his wine glass.
"He was a great man," Tyler finally says, his voice tight.
"He was," Jack agrees. "Shailyn, you have his eyes. Did you know that?"
I shake my head, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Tell me about him," I managed. "Please. I...."
"Well…"
"Not tonight," Monica interrupts, her voice unusually firm. "Tonight is about me and my man. We can talk about the past another time."
"Monica—" I start.
"No, Shailyn. I mean it. Tonight is supposed to be festive. Happy. Let's not bring up sad things."
I want to argue. I want to demand that Jack tell me everything he knows about my father. But something in Monica's expression stops me.
"Okay," I say quietly. "Another time then."
"Another time," Jack agrees, but there's something knowing in his smile.
Dante squeezes my hand. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Just... surprised."
The rest of dinner passes in uncomfortable silence. Rosa serves the main course, and everyone eats mechanically, making small talk that feels forced.
I catch Dwayne watching me a few times. Each time, I look away.
I can't think about him right now. I can't think about the way he looked at me in the hallway, or the way my heart responded.
"This turkey is excellent," Tyler says finally.
"Shailyn helped set up dinner.” Dante adds.
"It's delicious," Jack says, looking at me. "You're very talented."
"Thank you."
Under the table, Dante's grip on my hand tightens. I glance at him, but he's staring at Jack with barely concealed hostility.
I watch Jack and Monica together. Monica seems genuinely happy, and Jack is attentive and charming.
But something feels off. I can't put my finger on it.
"What are your intentions with my daughter?" Tyler asks suddenly.
"Dad!" Monica's face flushes.
"It's a fair question."
Jack doesn't seem fazed. "My intentions are honorable. I care about Monica very much."
"Good." Tyler's voice is hard. "Because if you hurt her—"
Dante wanted to disapprove. I mean, who won't? He's way older than Monica.
"I won't. You have my word."
"Good.”
"I understand perfectly how much Monica means." Jack says smoothly.
I snort. The tension ratchets up another notch. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
"Dessert?" Rosa appears with a tray of pies.
"Yes, please," I say gratefully.
She serves everyone, and the conversation shifts to safer topics. The weather. Christmas plans. Anything but the elephant in the room.
I notice Dwayne hasn't said much. He's just watching. Always watching.
"You're going to make me fat," Dante says, taking another bite of the pie.
"You'll survive," I tell him.
He grins at me, and I smile back. This is good. This is normal.
So why does it feel like I'm acting?
"Well," Tyler says, pushing back his chair. "This has been lovely, but I think I'm going to retire for the evening."
"Already?" Monica asks.
"It's been a long day. Jack, it was good to see you."
"You too, sir."
Tyler leaves, and Cynthia follows shortly after, claiming a headache.
"I should go too," Dwayne says, standing.
He doesn't look at me as he leaves. He left with Marcus.
My chest aches.
"I guess that's our cue," Dante says. "Come on, Shay. Let's get you to bed."
"I can help clean up—"
"Rosa's got it. You need rest."
"He's right," Monica says. "You look exhausted."
"Thanks," I say dryly.
"You know what I mean. Go. Sleep."
Dante helps me up, and we say goodnight to Monica and Jack.
In our room, Dante immediately starts getting ready for bed.
"That was an interesting dinner," he says.
"That's one word for it."
"He kisses my neck. "Come to bed. You need sleep."
"I know."
We climb into bed, and Dante falls asleep almost immediately. But I lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
I keep thinking about Jack's words. Your father and I were very close friends.
I keep thinking about Tyler's reaction. That flash of pain.
I keep thinking about Cynthia's pale face.
And I keep thinking about Dwayne.
The way he looked at me in the hallway. The hurt in his eyes when I told him to let me go.
"I'm doing the right thing," I whisper to the darkness.
But if I'm doing the right thing, why does it feel so wrong?
Beside me, Dante shifts in his sleep, throwing an arm over me.
I close my eyes, trying to force sleep to come.
But even as I drift off, Dwayne's voice echoes in my mind.
Whatever this is, whatever you're dealing with, I'm here. Always.
I fall asleep with those words circling in my head, and the uncomfortable knowledge that I wish I could take him up on that offer.
But I can't.
I'm married to Dante.
This is where I belong.
Even if my heart seems to disagree.