“Let. Me. See. It.”
I swallowed again, but my throat was now dry, and the saliva hurt going down. My fingers trembled around the book. I held it tighter, not wanting it to fall. What other choice did I have other than to show it to him?
After what I’d read, it was clear Roland had developed trust issues after what Melanie told him. And it was also clear to me that I didn’t know Roland at all. The way he grabbed Melanie—the way he spoke to her in the journal. I couldn’t see him doing that, and yet, as I looked at him, wary of his large hands, staring into his angry eyes, I realized that perhaps there was a side to him that had been buried deep, deep down and hidden. A side that may have possibly had something to do with her death.
I pulled the journal back out of my coat and he shot his hand out, reaching for it and catching me completely off guard. I flinched and backed away from him with the book and he squared his shoulders, frowning deeper. Was he going to hit me?
“Samira,” he bellowed.
“Roland . . .” I shuddered a breath, clutching the journal tighter and as he took another step closer, my phone rang and scared the shit out of me. The song “Gold Digger” by Kanye West played and I’d never in my life been so relieved to receive a call from my brother. I pulled my phone out and showed the screen to Roland, hoping to distract him with it so he’d forget about the journal.
“It’s Kell,” I said, trying to keep my hands from shaking. “I should take this.”
Roland frowned, then did a nod and stepped back. I tucked the book under my armpit again and turned away to answer the call.
“Kell! Hey!” I cried into the phone.
“Samira!” he shouted into the phone.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he snapped, and for a split second I had no idea what he could have possibly been talking about—too preoccupied with thoughts of my husband strangling me.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your fucking marriage, Samira! Is this why you’ve been avoiding my calls? You went and married that crazy motherfucker when I told you to stay away from his ass!”
I turned sideways and looked at Roland. He was still watching me.
“I’m gonna take this outside.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. I opened one of the back doors and walked out, shutting it behind me and then hustling far enough away from the door so Roland couldn’t hear.
“Samira?” Kell demanded.
“Yeah—I’m here. Kell, it’s two in the morning. Why are you calling so late?”
“No, you don’t get to ask me questions. I’m in my office right now and one of my coworkers sent me an email. In that email, I see an article about Roland Graham secretly getting married and honeymooning at a ski resort. And with who? A woman named Samira Wilder!”
I closed my eyes and drew in a cold breath. “I was going to tell you, Kell.”
“I should have been the first to know about this, Mira!”
“Well, I didn’t want to tell you right away! I knew you wouldn’t support it!”
“Why, Mira?” he groaned. He was probably doing that thing where he pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “Why the hell would you marry that man after all I told you?”
“Because I don’t believe the rumors, okay?” Or at least I didn’t. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“He had something to do with his wife dying. I know it,” said Kell.
“You don’t know anything, okay? No one knows anything but Melanie, and she killed herself.”
“Are those the lies he’s been feeding you?”
I shook my head, staring down at the snow on the ground. “I . . . trust him.”
“You shouldn’t. And where the hell are you? I’m coming to see you. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Kell, I’m fine. Seriously.” I heard the door creak open and Roland was stepping out in boots and a coat. My heart started beating fast again as he approached.
“Everything okay?” Roland asked.
I nodded, then turned away. “Listen, I’ll call you in a couple hours, after I’ve gotten some sleep, okay?”
“No—Samira. I need to know you’re okay! I need the address—”
“Goodnight. I love you.” I hung up before he could say anything else, then turned to look at Roland. He was giving me a sideways glance.
“Are we okay?” he asked, facing me fully.
“Roland, we’re fine,” I said.
“Then why does it feel like you’re hiding something from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything.” I stepped back, which I shouldn’t have done, because he frowned.
“Come back to bed, please.”
“I will. I just need to check the shed—”
“Fuck the shed, Samira! Come back to bed now!” he barked. I flinched and took several steps away, my eyes stretching wide.