Tristan felt a wave of discomfort as Adele clung to him, being overly affectionate and constantly pressing kisses on him. He couldn't take his eyes off Riley, who must have hated him by now. She would probably tell Lilian after leaving—he was sure of it.
As soon as Riley and his uncle left through the front door, Tristan shoved Adele away and rose from the couch. He headed toward the room, desperate for a bath to wash away the anger burning inside him.
"Where do you think you're going, Tristan Varkson?" Adele asked, leaning back with a silly smile.
"Away from you… anywhere at all, as long as you're not there," Tristan said, furrowing his brows as he climbed the stairs. He hated that he was still married to her.
Adele sighed, rising from the couch. "I've heard that plenty of times, dear husband. For over a hundred years, actually. And yet, here we are, still together. I still sleep in the same room as you."
