First Vision of Destiny - Alicia Read Online Free Page A

sizzling, the
aroma spreading through the kitchen. She needed just a little
longer to prepare her words. She needed, also, to finally decide on
whether she would confess or accuse first. Her pain demanded that
she do the latter, but if she did, she knew she’d never get around
to admitting her own betrayal of his trust.
    When she heard Ben approach, she shut off the
burner with a snap of her wrist and turned to him. He stopped just
beyond the kitchen door, taking in the candle-lit dinner set on the
island before turning his eyes to her. She wasn’t sure whether she
imagined the glimmer of recognition that lit up his eyes for a
second before he passed a hand through his hair, making it stick at
odd angles.
    “Did I forget something?” he asked, his words
slow and cautious, as he took his seat on a high stool.
    Alicia sat down across from him. “Did you?”
She winced at the tone of her own voice. She hadn’t meant to be so
brusque.
    Her reaction made him pause with his glass of
wine halfway to his lips. He put it down on the table again without
drinking. “I mean… It’s not our anniversary. Is there a reason for
all this?”
    Again, a snappy answer tried to pass Alicia’s
lips. This time, she managed to catch it before it spilled out. If
antagonizing Ben were all she had wanted, she wouldn’t have
prepared all this.
    “No reason. I just thought it’d be nice.”
    She served him salad before filling her
plate. When she sprinkled oil and vinegar over it, she was almost
proud that her hand only shook a little. They ate in silence. Every
so often, Alicia would steal a glance at her husband. The faintest
frown was pulling at his eyebrows. He knew something was up; she
would have bet he did. Did he suspect she knew? Was his guilty
conscience tugging at him? The thought vindicated her for a moment,
before she remembered—she was not blameless.
    Maybe because of her anxiety to be done with
the entire ordeal, Alicia finished her salad very fast. Laying her
fork down, she watched Ben’s plate, waiting for it to finally be
empty. As he took his last forkful, she stood and picked the pan on
the stove behind her, filling her own plate first this time, then
Ben’s. Apart from his murmured comment that the stir-fry tasted
good, they were silent again.
    Alicia remembered their first dinner in
her apartment and how much they had talked that evening. They had
talked about their jobs, about their friends, about the last movie
they had seen together, and the last movie they had seen apart.
They had simply talked .
    The silence, this night, felt like a living
being standing in the room with them, ready to swallow and stifle
any attempt at conversation. She wanted to say something, anything,
but she wasn’t ready for the main course yet, and any other topic
would have felt too trivial.
    Again, she finished before Ben. She pushed
her plate to the side and drew her untouched glass of wine closer
to her. Her fingers played on the long stem and over the rim, but
she didn’t take a drink. She wanted her mind clear when she told
him, without alcohol tripping her tongue.
    She waited until he put his fork down on his
empty plate and forced the first words out, bypassing her fears and
hesitations. “I have to talk to you about something. It’s
important.”
    For the first time since starting the meal,
he met her eyes, although only for a second before he looked at his
glass and picked it up for a sip. He seemed uncomfortable. She
wished she knew what was going on in his mind. Did he feel guilty?
Afraid that she had suspicions? Or was she only projecting her own
feelings on him?
    Realizing that she was only delaying her
admission a little longer, she put down her glass and rested her
hands on either side of it. The stone was cool beneath her fingers.
She took a deep breath, forced herself to look straight at Ben, and
plunged in.
    “I’ve been visiting a blood bar again.”
    Whatever Ben
had been expecting, this clearly was not it. His