Her Reluctant Wife: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance

around.

Coralyn made a sound in her throat that was half surprise

and half wounded animosity. She must be incredulous that

Giana wouldn’t even look at her. “What are you talking

about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“You want to know how I’m doing? How I’m holding up?

That’s what you’re really asking, but it’s coming out all

messed up because you’re cruel and terrible and the things you

said to me at your house were unforgivable.”

It was a clear invitation to battle, and Giana spun around.

She glared at Coralyn, who lost some of her bravery under that

unrelenting stare. Whatever Giana had felt, that forceful

undercurrent, slammed back into her. She rarely felt anything,

and it was such a surprise that Coralyn could draw it from her

so effortlessly. It felt very much like that curse she’d stood in

this very office and uttered just a few weeks ago had legs and

was possessing Giana, invading her mind and all the other

cold, dark places that she kept carefully shut down.

“I’ve had to be merciless to get where I am.” It sounded like

an explanation. Giana didn’t like that. “What I said needed to

be said. What I did needed to be done. You brought it on

yourself.”

No, she didn’t. Yes, she did. The constant back and forth was

still taking place in Giana’s head. It was exhausting. In life,

like in development, there were invariably always fuckups, but

she’d never had a personal crisis of this magnitude. Not since

the night when her family was ripped apart by one wrong turn

off the bed of a winding road on a dark night.

Coralyn’s throat worked and Giana’s mouth went bone dry.