Chapter 3
I took out a bottle of wine from the cabinet–a treasured Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley I’d bought at a private
vineyard before.
I poured it into a crystal glass. The deep red liquid shimmered under the lights.
I took a sip, the rich fruit notes spreading across my tongue.
I couldn’t help clicking my tongue in appreciation.
What a great wine.
Seriously, Penny–you haven’t treated yourself badly at all.
My gaze returned to the table of dishes, and I frowned.
Steamed, poached, low–salt, low–oil…Since when were these my kind of foods?
To cater to Hunter’s taste. I–a girl who grew up loving bold, flavorful food–hadn’t even made a single proper spicy dish!
I realized with a start. That’s right!
Who exactly was I trying to please now?
It was already past eight, but suddenly I was bursting with energy.
I reheated the braised salmon with lemon cream sauce, then poured sizzling chili oil over it, piling on generous amounts
of numbing peppercorns.
I re–seasoned the steamed seafood, covering it with thick minced garlic and bright red chopped chilies.
Still not satisfied, I went ahead and made a plate of my all–time favorite–Crispy Spicy Chicken Tenders.
The table was a blaze of fiery reds, the heat and spice saturating the entire kitchen.
I poured myself another glass of red wine and settled back at the table. A slice of fish drenched in chili oil hit my mouth
-so satisfying it made me want to stomp my feet.
Another bite–shrimp coated in garlic and chili, salty and spicy, shooting straight to the top of my head.
The crispy, fiery chicken was golden, crunchy, and numbing: paired with a sip of wine. it was pure bliss. This–this feeling
-was absolutely exhilarating! Just as I was eating with abandon, sweat beading on my forehead from the heat, the
phone beside me suddenly lit up with a new message.
It was from Hunter’s assistant.
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Also, one of his affairs.
[Hey Penny, you haven’t checked my Instagram yet, have you?]
I picked up another piece of spicy chicken, chewing slowly as I casually opened her profile.
Her latest post went up ten minutes ago.
In the photo, two hands were intertwined, fingers laced together, set against the backdrop of my favorite upscale
restaurant.
The intimacy was obvious.
I recognized Hunter’s hand instantly.
After all, I’d placed my own hand against it countless times.
Long, slender fingers with defined knuckles.
And the faint mark where his wedding ring had once been.
Expressionless, I tapped a like.
Very quickly, the post disappeared.
Then a new one popped up:
[Oops- I just casually posted something, and my boyfriend saw it! He says I’m being punished tonight–no sleeping.]
I set my phone down.
There was a sharp sting in my chest.
My hearty appetite suddenly faded.
But not because of that couple.
It was for me. I put down my chopsticks and addressed the empty air, launching into a very serious “self–reflection.”
[Penny, I slaved over a whole table of food you actually like–and you’re going to lose your appetite over someone else’s
Instagram post?]
[Do you have any idea how disrespectful that is to the version of you who spent all that time cooking? To this amazing
bottle of wine? To your own stomach?]
[Eat. Right. Now. Look at how skinny you’ve gotten–a light breeze could knock you over. You’re down to barely ninety
pounds, you know that? Hunter’s over there, cuddling his mistress, and you’re here ruining your mood in front of good
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food?]
[Penny, you don’t get to treat yourself like this. Got it?)
After finishing my “lecture.” I took a deep breath and forced the tightness in my chest down.
I picked up a big piece of fish and took a solid bite, chewing hard.
Mumm–so good! That’s more like it, Penny.
When I was nearly done eating, the phone on the table vibrated again.
This time, it was my mom calling–Linda Carter.
The moment I answered, before I could even say a word, her voice came crashing through the line:
“Penny! So what if Hunter cheated? Is it really going to kill you to turn a blind eye?! What capable man doesn’t fool
around a little on the side?”
“I don’t care what methods you use–crying, begging, pretending you don’t know–you absolutely cannot let go of Hunter,
that golden son–in–law. Do you hear me?!”
“If you keep this up and he actually divorces you, what are you going to do then?!”
“He’s a big–time CEO now–a successful entrepreneur! All you need to do is cling tightly to the title of Mrs. Blackwell! Why
are you so obsessed with having his entire heart? Are you out of your mind?”
“Hunter’s outstanding. Isn’t it perfectly normal for a man like that to have a few women on the side? Just behave
yourself, enjoy the good life as Mrs. Blackwell, and stop meddling in things that don’t concern you!”
