Page 90 of Caging Liberty
I motion to the glass. “I can’t drink this. I have a wine allergy.”
Sawyer purses his lips like he’s confused, plunging the knife deeper into my chest.
Why? Why do I let this bother me?
“O-kay?” Sawyer drawls. “I can get you something else?”
“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” I ask, holding back the floodgates. All those nights, wasted. All the trust, the friendship, thelongingwas all one-sided. And for what?
Anger starts to mix with sadness as I look down at the island, hoping that avoiding his eyes will make it easier to say the words I’ve been dying to say since I found out who Sawyer was. “Was it really necessary to spend so much time making me think I was falling in love with you? Did you really need to…” I clear my throat. “My husband sold me to you. What possible benefit could you have had for doing that?”
“What are you talking about?”
I look up to find Sawyer’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“The chat site,” I say, more anger brewing at his bewilderment.
Recognition flares, and he sighs like he’s relieved. “Oh.” He chuckles, pushing a fallen lock off his forehead. “Yeah, that wasn’t me.”
My jaw relaxes, and I stare at him with even more confusion than he showed me.
“I led you to believe I was your internet boyfriend because I didn’t want you to suspect your husband had anything to do with you being here.”
My mouth opens and closes several times before I can speak. “I don’t understand.”
Sawyer’s head tilts. “What’s so confusing about it?”
“If it wasn’t you I was talking to, who was it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I ask, beginning to feel exasperated.
“Imean, as far as I’m aware, you weren’t catfished. That was just some guy. Your husband found out about your internet fling and got pissed, which is why you’re here.”
I blink several times. Sawyer speaks so matter-of-factly, but none of this makes sense. “But you knew my screen name.”
“Because Robert told me. What was it again?” His eyes flicker back and forth as he searches his mind, snapping his fingers when it comes to him. “Manhattan peasant. Not sure how that’s fitting, but it’s cute.”
My head swims as I continue trying to make sense of this. In a way, this helps. I feel less betrayed by the man I thought I was falling in love with and less stupid being around Sawyer. I also feel more anger toward the man I married.
But there’s one other man in this mess, and I don’t know how to feel about him. Angel lied to me.
Again.
But why?
The obvious answer flashes in my mind, but I shove it away, unable to accept it yet.
“Did Robert show you the transcripts?” I ask.
Sawyer’s brow lifts above his glass as he takes a sip. “What?”
“From my messages with saltyshells. Did Robert show you our exchanges?”
“You think he carried around copies of your internet affair?” He laughs. “What?”
“Just answer the question.”