Too Late To Love Your Mute Wife

ly around the long dining table. They carried

front of her. It was filled to the brim with boiling hot lobster bisque. Thick

save for the faint clinking of

it up, looking across the table at Aubree with a

Courtesy demanded she return the gesture. She re

But instead of grabbing the silver, Allyson faked a sudden, clumsy stumble. She let out a soft gasp, her arm flailing outward to catch her ba

ina tipped o

ured off the edge of the table. The scaldin

oiling soup immediately, trapping the extreme heat

ooden chair tipped backward and crashed on

t her paralyzed vocal cords failed her. No sound came out. She could only gasp

lyson let out a piercing

it to her chest. A few tiny drops of the sou

k so hard it scraped against the floor. He rushed a

panic. He gently pulled her hand away from her c

eat. "Call a doctor! Get the c

to pull the boiling, sticky fabric away from her skin. The pain was blinding,

completely blurred by tears of p

her. He did not even g

and turned toward the door. "Tell the driver t

oom, carrying Allyson like

head back just long enough to sneer

ing room door

or Augusta sitting frozen at the head of the

tack of wet, ice-cold towels. She dropped to her knees beside

istened to the distant roar of the Maybach's en

a dull, throbbing numbness. Inside her chest, the last

the edge of the table and pulled herself up. Her legs sho