Page 11 of Second Chance Husband

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Because he had made me coffee exactly how I liked it in the mornings. I could go for lattes or espressos or any other type of coffee later on. Even cold brews if I was feeling it. But my first cup of coffee in the morning was chicory with a little cream. And he had remembered.

I took a sip, and the taste exploded over my tongue, nearly sending me into bliss as my eyes pricked with tears.

I hated him so much just then. Because he had left.

Like they all did.

I set my mug down and reached for the water before taking the two pills.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he turned to me, a plate in hand. He set down the bacon and eggs in front of me, and my stomach roiled.

I shook my head and immediately regretted it. I was hungover, and I only wanted this coffee.

“Eat. It’ll help your stomach.”

“I’m fine. Thank you. The coffee’s good.”

He just grunted.

And then he stared at me, and I knew if I did not at least take a bite, he would continue to glare at me until the end of our days. Because the only friends I had in this town I loved happened to be related to this man. So I was never going to be out of his vicinity until the end of my days. Because that was my lot in life.

With a sigh, I took the fork he had set down next to the plate and cracked the yolk on the over-easy egg. My stomach rumbled even as nausea waved over me, but then I set the fork down and dipped my bacon into the egg.

August’s jaw tightened at the look of it, but I ignored him, letting the saltiness spread over my tongue so I could breathe.

I continued to eat, and after a few more bites, he dug into his plate, eating in methodical bites without looking at me. The greasy food along with the piece of toast he had buttered to perfection next to the eggs seemed to settle my stomach, even as I tried not to break down.

“You need to tell me, Paise.”

“I’m fine.”

And I hated when he called me Paise. I would never call him Augie, as I didn’t like the name, and the only people who called him Augie liked to be jerks to him. But he had always called me Paise when he had smiled at me and joked around. And I hated it. Because I was not his anymore.

“I’ll tell the girls. I’ll call them right now and they’ll get it out of you.”

I looked up from my empty plate, surprised I had finished, and narrowed my gaze at him. “Fine. I got a divorce yesterday. And I wanted to celebrate.”

I hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but the news would hit the cycle soon, as the Barton family was infamous in this town, and my business dealings led to some media attention. But I had wanted to tell the girls first.

Instead I was telling my first ex-husband that I now had a second. I was so winning at life.

August just blinked at me. “What the fuck did Jacob do?”

And why did it feel like he had hugged me in that moment, emotion running its sharp prick of anxiety and hope into my heart at the fact that he thought it was Jacob.

That Jacob had hurt me.

No, Jacob couldn’t hurt the iciness in my chest. I had frozen over long ago and I hadn’t even realized the full extent of it until I had been able to so easily walk away from Jacob, the man who had cheated on me.

No, the person that had broken me was standing right there in front of me.

Just like the other person who had completed that shattered mess looked at me every time I stared into a mirror.

We were one and the same, my reflection and his past, and I never wanted to drown in that memory again.

“It just didn’t work out,” I said icily.

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