Thorns Grow After Betrayal (Celeste and Chester) novel Chapter 233

She brushed Lance off with a few vague words and hung up.

Another actor, she thought. He could put on a show just as convincingly as Chester.

Celestine dropped the takeout on the dining table and paid it no further mind.

She set an alarm for four in the afternoon, then slipped into a steaming hot shower.

After replying to a slew of concerned messages, she sorted through the sketches she’d done in Portside City, tweaking a few details here and there.

Among them was a dress design she’d promised Sandra.

Those days on the island had been odd—her interactions with Gideon Prescott awkward and stilted—but Sandra was a sweetheart, all tough talk and soft heart, the kind of big sister who pretended not to care but always did.

Celestine had noticed Sandra staring at her more than once, lost in thought, so she’d asked about it. When Sandra opened up about her troubles, Celestine promised to design a beautiful dress just for her. Once the pattern was finished, she’d mail it to the island.

Sandra had been delighted.

After leaving the island, the two of them exchanged numbers and kept in touch.

Thinking back over everything that had happened lately, Celestine’s mind drifted once more to Gideon. The shock of discovering he was the boy from all those years ago still hadn’t worn off; it eclipsed even the surprise of Chester’s decision between her and Joanna.

She recalled their seemingly accidental meetings, one after another, and couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was at play—something she didn’t yet know.

But the more she tried to puzzle it out, the heavier her head felt, until finally she slumped over her desk and drifted into a deep, dreamless nap.

Except the dreams weren’t so kind. Scenes flashed by—her parents’ car crash, Gideon shoving her out of harm’s way and taking a bullet for her, and at the end, the sensation of being abandoned again, sinking helplessly into the sea.

Nightmares piled on, one after another.

Celestine jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

Not exactly a good omen.

Perfect timing—the alarm started blaring for the third time.

She blinked, dazed.

Already five o’clock.

She’d overslept.

Rubbing at her eyes, still sore from sleep, she fumbled for her phone and found two missed calls from unknown numbers.

And—Lance had sent seven unread messages.

[Blake]: [smile emoji]

[Blake]: Are you done yet? I want to see.

……

[Blake]: [hungry emoji]

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