Saturday Sample and Weekend Writing Warriors

I didn't have much time to write this week, but I did get a little more done on my new WIP. No blurb or title to share yet. If you see anything off about the excerpt do let me know. When you finish here you can go to http://www.wewriwa.blogspot.com for more excerpts from a talented group of authors.

Last Week's excerpt:

“Why, Rhett, you’re early,” Alex cried, her face aglow. She set down a wine glass and danced over to greet him, looking very much like poetry in motion. 

He threw his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, well aware that this was the last time he’d touch her before he ripped their lives apart. Once she found out what he had to say their world would be different no matter what she decided to do.  His head buzzed and he felt dizzy as emotion ripped and tore at his vitals. What would he do if she left him? Drawing a deep breath, he stepped away from her, hoping he hadn’t squeezed her too hard.  “Let’s go upstairs to talk.”

She laughed, the sweet, ringing sound full of the joy they’d always taken in each other. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. It was then that he noticed the silence in the room. His parents and both of his sons were staring at him as if he were a stranger who’d barged his way into their living room, a man they halfway feared. 

Judge Landers cleared his throat. “Did you have a good trip?”

“No.”

“You look upset. You’re not acting like yourself.”

Upset? Yeah, that was one way to put it. “Dad, we’ll talk later, okay? I want to talk to Alex.”

The judge nodded, the inquisitive, worried look in his eyes telling Rhett that his father knew something out of the ordinary was taking place.

This week's excerpt:

“Let’s go talk,” she said, reaching for his hand and leading him upstairs to the room they’d shared ever since their marriage.  She sat down on the pale yellow sofa in the window and patted the space beside her. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong. You do look upset.”

He shrugged off his jacket and reached into the inside pocket. His fingers burned when they touched the picture. This was almost unbearable. How was flesh and blood supposed to endure it? His heart pounded like a jackhammer as he passed the picture to her.

“Who’s the boy?” she asked as she stared at the blonde child in the photo. “He looks like a Landers.”

“He is.”

She laughed as she handed the picture back to him. “Well? Are you going to make me pull it out of you? Who is he?”

The buzzing dizziness he’d felt earlier returned with a vengeance. “He’s my son.”