Page 22 of What the Wife Knew

She sounded just like her ex. “I’ve been called worse.”

She grabbed her clutch and stuck it under her arm again. “You’ll regret this.”

“I doubt it.”

Chapter Sixteen

Her

Married, Day Fifty-Four

My run ended too soon. Fearing some Kathryn-supporting neighbor might mow me down in an expensive sedan made getting fresh air and burning off tension risky. But I refused to hide in the house every minute of the day. I’m not the family member who should be ashamed. That person sat at the breakfast bar, eating a sandwich. Unfortunately, he didn’t choke on it.

Without saying a word, I slipped into the kitchen and refilled my water bottle while Richmond lectured Wyatt about his grades. Never mind that it was summer, long before the kid returned to college for his junior year.

“We will not have a repeat of last year’s embarrassing effort.” Richmond finished the comment then took another bite of his sandwich.

Wyatt, fully flustered and running his hand through his hair, fidgeted on the barstool. “I swear I did the best I could.”

“Bullshit.” Richmond finally lowered the sandwich and gave his son eye contact. “You can’t spend all your time drinking and going out with friends and expect I’ll fix it for you when you miss your classes and fail out.”

“I didn’t fail. My grade point average—”

“You’re an adult now. Act like it.” Richmond’s angry tone echoed through the kitchen. So did the harsh coughing that followed.

For a few seconds Wyatt just sat there in the eye of the suffocating tension. Part of me wanted to leave. The other part wanted to stay in case Richmond’s rant got out of hand. Protecting Wyatt from his father’s wrath wasn’t my job, but I still felt bad for the kid. Being Richmond Dougherty’s son couldn’t have been an easy ride, especially because behind closed doors Richmond’s demanding nature was second only to his lack of empathy.

Father of the Year.

Wyatt didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He gnawed on his bottom lip and generally looked like he was winding up the courage to contradict his father. “I’m not sure biology is the right major for me.”

“You need that foundation if you’re going to be a doctor.” Richmond’s coughing died down, but his voice sounded scratchy.

“Is that what he wants?” The question slipped out. It was the obvious one that Richmond should have asked, but he didn’t, so I tried.

Richmond didn’t look at me, but his hands tightened into fists. “I don’t need your help, Addison.”

“I’m talking to my dad.” Wyatt’s rough tone matched his scowl.

The kid needed to learn when to accept a lifeline. That was a lesson someone else could teach him. I tagged out. “Right. Continue.”

Richmond went back to eating and talking. “You have to berealistic. You’re accustomed to a certain lifestyle. One I don’t intend to provide forever. That means you need to be able to support yourself, and I’m not talking about just getting by.”

“I could do a lot of other things.”

“You need a career. Medicine is the most obvious option.” Richmond’s coughing returned. He picked up his empty mug and moved it closer to my side of the breakfast bar. “Coffee.”

He had to be kidding. “You can make it yourself.”

Richmond gave me his full attention this time. “You don’t need to be in here for this discussion. It’s between me and my son.”

That guaranteed I was staying. “I wouldn’t want to miss any of your wisdom.”

“Hey.” Wyatt stood up. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

A wheezing sound cut off whatever other gem the kid intended to say. Richmond coughed until he gasped. It sounded like he couldn’t draw in enough air.

“Dad?” Wyatt looked from his father to me. “Do something.”

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