Free Bitter Nothings by Vicki Tyley Page B

heart lurched as she caught a whiff of their intoxicating fragrance. She blew out a breath.
    Nathan’s head popped out from behind the oversized floral arrangement, his hair tousled as if he’d only just got out of bed. He beamed at her. “A welcoming committee. And I thought you didn’t care.”
    “I don’t,” she said.
    Not that her ex heard her. He was too busy eyeing up Sophie.
    “Careful. You might trip over it.”
    “What?”
    “Your tongue.”
    “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Nathan asked, not taking his gaze off Sophie.
    “No.”
    He plucked a red rose from the bouquet and presented it to Sophie with a flourish. “Nathan Ward at your service.”
    And like some tittering, lovelorn teenager Sophie took it, holding it under her nose as she batted those impossibly long eyelashes at him.
    It was all Dervla could do to stop herself from gagging. “You haven’t changed at all.” With one last scowl at Nathan, she hustled Sophie inside.
    “Babe, wait!”
    Too little, too late. She slammed the door on him and his damned flowers. Way too late.
    “I can see why you kept him to yourself,” Sophie said, twirling the rose.
    Somehow Dervla resisted the urge to rip it from her friend’s fingers. “Don’t waste your time. He’s not worth it.”
    Sophie followed Dervla through into the living room, kicking off her stiletto-heeled pumps in the doorway. “Oh, that’s better. Now, about that hunky man—”
    “I mean it, Sophie. Stay as far away from him as you can.”
    “Do I hear sour grapes?”
    Dervla sighed, her eyes closing in a slow blink. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyway, I thought you were off men.”
    The corner of Sophie’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “Did I say that? Off some men.”
    “And it’s the some men I’m most worried about,” Dervla said, referring to Sophie’s ex-husband.
    “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Besides, he doesn’t own me.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who needs convincing. Remind me again why you had to get away.”
    Sophie’s hand went to her throat. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
    “God, Sophie, when are you going to stop making excuses for him? When you’re dead?”
     

CHAPTER 11
     
    Dervla rifled through the contents of her wardrobe, staying busy the only way she knew to keep her grief at bay. What did you wear to the funeral of your half-siblings and their mother? Black seemed too oppressive to farewell such innocent young souls, but then any other color felt disrespectful. In the end, she settled on plain black trousers and a black-with-pink-pinstripe jacket, hanging the garments together at one end ready for the next day.
    Before she could decide on the appropriate shoes, the doorbell rang. “What now?” she muttered, as she tossed aside a pair of platform shoes.
    “I want to speak to my wife,” Martin Lombardi said, the instant she opened the door.
    “Ex-wife you mean. She’s not here.”
    “Soph!” He made to push past Dervla. “Get out of my way.”
    “No,” she said, with more bravado than she felt. “No, I won’t. And I don’t care what you believe, Martin. Sophie isn’t here. If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”
    His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “What is it with you and her?” His lip curled, seconds ticking. “Oh, I get it. It just wasn’t enough for you to wreck my marriage – you had to fuck my wife, too. Fucking lesbos. You’re all the same.”
    Lost for words – any words – she slammed the door in his face. She fumbled with the deadlock, her hands shaking.
    “Hear this, bitch,” he shouted. “She loves me, not you.”
    Dervla waited for the heavy footsteps to recede before releasing her breath. What Sophie had ever seen in that man in the first place was beyond her. As she reached for the phone to warn Sophie that her ex was on the rampage, the doorbell rang again.
    Her heart hammering, she stared at the door, then back at the phone. “I’ve