Page 24 of His Weekend Wife

She squinted. “Isn’t that a little above and beyond?”

He shrugged. “In case I need your services. I also have a driver who can take you wherever it is you need to go.”

Services? He made her sound more like an escort than a wife. Then again, wasn’t she selling herself for thirty grand? Her stomach twisted. How had she gotten herself into this situation? No, how had she allowed Abby to get her into this situation?

He must have been waiting for her to respond because he glanced at her, one brow lifted. Her knees weakened. “You need to relax, bella. No one will believe this arrangement with you looking like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Okay.” To keep from staring at him, she looked at the hanging art that must have cost a fortune.

“Let’s continue.” He pushed through a set of double doors and she followed him into the kitchen.

Her mouth fell open and she quickly shut it. Everything was immaculate and in place. From the tall white cabinets, the black granite countertops, the pan rack hanging from the ceiling full of pots and skillets that looked like they’d never been touched, unlike her thrift store hand-me-downs that had scrapes and dents. The untouched look was much like the rest of the house. A museum. Making herself comfortable might be difficult when she’d fear breaking something, or leaving fingerprints.

“Do you still cook?” he asked.

“Is that part of my duties while I’m here.”

He laughed. “It’s not. It was just a question.”

She moistened her lips. “I find it’s much easier to open a can of soup or pour a bowl of cereal when I’m only cooking for one. I do help in the kitchen at the diner when needed.”

“You’re working at a diner?”

“I was working at a diner. I was fired for missing a day’s work.”

“What happened to getting your degree?”

Leaning against the counter, she clutched her hands together on the cool granite. “I’m almost there. I have one semester left in graduate school.”

Something flashed in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, bella. That’s amazing. I know that’s what you wanted.” As if he realized what he’d said, he blinked and turned away. “Anyway, feel free to use the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what you still liked to eat so I stocked the refrigerator and cabinet with a variety of things.” He opened one cabinet. “Oh, this is where the glasses are kept.” He opened a second door, sighing. “I’m sure you won’t be eating candles.” He took one tapered wax candle out and pretended to inspect it.

“If I had arranged this kitchen, I would have put the food here…” She stepped across the ceramic tiles, her heels clomping lightly, and she opened a door that entered into a large pantry that she could have fit her kitchen back home into. As he’d promised, the shelves were lined with a variety of food.

“Ahh, the pantry. That makes sense.”

“So, you still don’t cook.” She smiled.

“Never,” he admitted without shame. “I have a cook that does those things for me when needed.”

“It’s a good thing that the Knight family has more money than they could ever use up in ten lifetimes, otherwise you’d be in terrible condition. By the way, I heard about Angelina. I’m so sorry. You know how much I cared for her.”

His Adams apple bobbed and she saw the pain sweep across his expression only to quickly disappear. “She had a soft spot for you too. I’ll never forget how she swore she’d never forgive me for letting you go.”

His gentle voice seeped into her arteries. Ash cleared her throat and shut the door to the pantry. “It was very kind of her for helping me. I could never repay her enough, although she would never have expected it, or allowed it, anyway.”

His brows scrunched together. “Helping you?”

She swallowed hard. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She came to visit me and we had a nice dinner together, sat in a quaint restaurant for hours talking about this and that, sharing stories, eating rich and decadent food. Before she left, she handed me an envelope, making me promise not to open it until I got home. She looked so sad that it made chills race across my flesh. I stood clutching the envelope and watching as she climbed into the back of the car and then drove away. She’d written me the sweetest letter and had included a check to pay for my graduate schooling.” Her eyes misted and she swore she wouldn’t cry, not here, not now. “I tried to give the check back, but she refused.”

His jaw hardened. “She never told me that she saw you after the separation. But then again, she was good at keeping secrets.”

“Are you angry because she helped me? I can still pay back every cent—”

“Stop, bella.” He gave his head a quick shake. “That’s not what she would have wanted, and I certainly wouldn’t ask for you to do such a thing. She had a giving heart.” His eyes filled with a sadness that he didn’t bother hiding.

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