Chapter 94 #94
Chapter 94
~Shailyn's POV~
The room is dark. Silent. Dante's sleeping peacefully beside me.
It was a dream. Just a dream. It didn't feel like a dream, it felt like a memory.
My heart is pounding so hard I think it might break through my ribs. I touch my throat again, half-expecting to feel bruises.
Nothing. Just my racing pulse.
I need water. Air. Something.
I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Dante, and pad into the hallway.
The house is quiet, but there's a light coming from downstairs. From Tyler's study.
I start toward the stairs when I hear voices.
"—finish her."
I freeze.
That's Gramps's voice.
"I can't just—" Tyler sounds strained.
"You can and you will. It's gone on long enough."
"Dad, please—"
"No more excuses, Tyler. Finish her. That's an order."
I back away from the stairs, my heart hammering. What does that mean? Finish who?
I hurry to the kitchen, pour myself water with shaking hands, and force myself to breathe.
It's probably nothing. Probably business talk. Finish a project. Finish a deal.
Not finish a person.
I drink the water and head back upstairs, avoiding Tyler's study completely.
I started thinking about the nightmare that felt like a vivid memory. Why was Dante so aggressive? What's going on? He had done something similar, forcefully kissing me.
It's probably nothing, I concluded.
Back in bed, I stare at the ceiling until sunrise.
\---
"Okay, so we're thinking New Year's theme with a twist," Hannah says through the video call. "Something elegant but fun."
I'm in the dining room with my laptop and a notebook, trying to focus on party planning instead of last night's nightmare and overheard conversation.
"What kind of twist?" I ask.
"Black and gold color scheme. Champagne tower. Maybe a photo booth with props?"
"That could work. What about food?"
"Catering from that place downtown. The one that did the summer gala."
"Perfect. And the venue?"
"The ballroom at the Belmar building.”
I write this down. "Music?"
"DJ or live band?"
"Both. DJ for dancing, live band for dinner."
"Look at you, being all professional," Hannah teases.
"I want it to be good. Really good."
"It will be. You're amazing at this stuff." She pauses. "Speaking of amazing, how's Dwayne?"
I nearly drop my pen. "What?"
"Dwayne. How is he?"
"Why are you asking about Dwayne?"
"Just wanted to ask especially with the gift you carefully picked out for him.”
"It's nothing, it's just a gift."
"Shailyn—"
"Hannah, I'm married. To Dante. Remember?"
“I know but—”
The dining room door opens, and Dwayne walks in.
My heart stops.
"Sorry," he says. "I didn't know you were in here."
"It's fine. I'm just planning the party."
"The New Year's party?"
"Yes."
He hesitates. "Need any help?"
"Actually," Hannah says from the laptop, "that would be great! Dwayne, come sit with Shailyn. We need a male perspective."
"Hannah—" I start.
"Come on, Shay. Let him help."
Dwayne looks at me. "If you don't want me here—"
I sighed. I honestly wanted him there but…. I just responded "No, it's fine. Sit."
He sits across from me, and suddenly the table feels much smaller.
"Okay," Hannah says cheerfully. "Dwayne, what do guys want at a party?"
"Good food. Good music. Open bar."
"See? Simple. I like it."
We spend the next hour going over details. Dwayne is surprisingly helpful, suggesting things I wouldn't have thought of.
"What about a countdown moment?" he says. "Not just at midnight, but something visual. Like a light display."
"That's brilliant," Hannah says. "Shailyn, write that down."
I write it down, very aware of how close Dwayne is sitting.
"And for decorations," he continues, "keep it classy. No cheap streamers. Real flowers. Candles."
"You have good taste," Hannah observes.
"I've been to enough bad parties to know what works."
"What about entertainment?" I ask. "Besides the music."
"Maybe a magician? Or a photo booth with instant prints?"
"Photo booth is already on the list," Hannah says. "But a magician could be fun."
"Or too cheesy," I counter.
"Not if it's done right," Dwayne says. "Make it interactive. Close-up magic during cocktail hour."
"Okay, I like that."
We keep brainstorming, and I almost forget to be awkward around him. Almost.
His phone buzzes. He glances at it and his entire demeanor changes.
"I have to go," he says abruptly.
"What? Right now?"
"Yes. Sorry. Something came up."
"Is everything okay?"
"I don't know yet." He stands quickly. "Keep planning. You're doing great."
"Dwayne—"
But he's already gone, practically running out of the room.
I stare after him, confused.
"What was that about?" Hannah asks.
"I have no idea."
"Should you check on him?"
"No. He said he has to go. I'm sure it's fine."
But it doesn't feel fine.
Something in his expression has my stomach twisting.
"Shay?" Hannah's voice pulls me back. "You still there?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Let's keep going."
"Are you sure? You look worried."
"I'm fine. Let's finish this list."
We work for another thirty minutes, but my mind isn't on party planning anymore.
It's on Dwayne's face when he looked at his phone.
It's on the conversation I overheard last night.
It's on the nightmare where Dante tried to kill me.
"Okay, I think we have enough for now," Hannah says. "We can finalize everything after New Year's."
"Sounds good."
"Shay? Are you really okay?"
"Just tired. Pregnancy brain. I think I want to go to the therapist soon.”
“Alright Shay. I'll book an appointment. Take a nap. I'll text you later."
"Okay. Thanks, Hannah."
"Love you, babe."
"Love you too."
I close the laptop and sit in the quiet dining room.
Dwayne left so suddenly. What could have been so urgent?
I pull out my phone, thinking about texting him.
But what would I say?
"Are you okay?" sounds too concerned.
"What happened?" sounds too nosy.
I set the phone down.
It's not my business.
He'll tell me if he wants to.
But the worry doesn't go away.
And neither does the memory of his expression.
I stand, gathering my notes, trying to shake off the unease.
But it clings to me like a shadow.
Something's wrong.
I don't know what.
But something is very, very wrong.