The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 14

Zebulon held her, his expression a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Penelope felt a sharp pang of pain. He was the man she had loved, and she was the friend she had trusted. No one could get over a betrayal like that instantly.

But Penelope was not one to be broken. The world wasn’t ending. Her guiding principle had always been that her efforts must be rewarded. If they weren’t—if they were met with this kind of treachery—then she would damn well get justice for herself.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and strode out of the hotel.

“Honey?”

At the sound of her voice, both of them froze. Zebulon reacted first, shoving Rebecca away so abruptly that she stumbled.

“You two?” Penelope asked, her voice a perfect picture of innocence.

“I… I came to pick you up,” Zebulon stammered. “I just ran into Rebecca. She was crying, so I was just…”

“Comforting her with a hug?”

Zebulon rushed to her side, lowering his voice. “She threw herself at me. I was just about to push her away when you came out.”

“Were you?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Penelope paused for a moment. “Of course I trust you. And I trust Rebecca.” She walked over to Rebecca and took her hand. “I felt terrible hitting you just now. But that slap was to snap you out of it. Don’t ruin someone’s family. Don’t be the other woman. Do you understand I did that for your own good?”

Rebecca’s cheek still stung, but she could only mumble, “I… I honestly didn’t know he was married. I never would have done it if I’d known.”

“In fact, I’ll be the baby’s godmother.”

“What?”

“And that makes my husband the godfather. Isn’t that perfect?”

Penelope chattered on enthusiastically while Zebulon and Rebecca could barely manage a forced smile. She insisted on driving Rebecca home, ushering her into the back seat while she took her place up front.

As Zebulon drove, the atmosphere was tense at first, but he quickly relaxed. After all, the three of them had traveled together before. Guilt and shame were emotions they had apparently long since abandoned. Rebecca adapted even faster, already shooting resentful glares at Penelope for being in the passenger seat. That was her rightful place, after all.

Penelope pretended not to notice, keeping up a stream of cheerful conversation. But as the car stopped at a red light, she bent down and picked something up from the floor mat. Her expression immediately soured.

“Zebulon, who have you been letting sit in this car? Are you cheating on me?” she snapped, holding up a tube of lipstick.