Page 28 of Help Wanted: Wife

“You meant it. You didn’t mean to say it.” He turned away.

“Please. I’m so sorry.” She touched his sleeve.

The gliteri along his arm tingled, and he jerked away. “Don’t touch me! Just go. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

The reflection in the window showed her leaving, but the anger, betrayal, jealousy, and hurt remained and swirled in the room. He clenched his fists and stared sightlessly at the cloudtopper across the way.

Moments later, he caught the reflection of movement. Pru stood behind him with a small case in hand.

“I’m going to Hope’s for a while. We both need to consider whether we intend for this business arrangement to continue. I know how important thegrand opening is. I’ll be there to help. After that, we’ll see.” She left the apartment.

Pru had said she loved him, yet everything she’d done today indicated the opposite. He’d lost his first wife to death, and now, he was losing his second one to betrayal. How could he trust her after this? She’d implied he hadn’t gotten over Sala, when obviously she was consumed by jealousy over a dead woman. What was he supposed to do? Pretend he hadn’t been married before?

The past was immutable; only the future could be changed. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he and Prudence would have one.

* * * *

“H-h-he’s still in l-l-love with her.” Prudence sobbed. “He’s never g-g-going to get over her. He hates me.” She buried her face in her hands.

When Pru had appeared on Hope’s doorstep, her friend had gotten one glimpse of her face and the suitcase in her hand, hugged her, and pulled her into the apartment. “Tell me what happened,” she’d said.

Pru had burst into tears and hadn’t been able to stop crying since. She could barely speak.

“I don’t know the whole story, but Larth would never hate you.” Hope rubbed her back. They weresitting on the living room sofa. “He’s not that kind of man, and you would never do anything to cause anybody to hate you.”

Pru drew in a shuddering breath and tried to pull herself together. She’d shaken the box so hard, the disk inside had clattered like a death rattle. She’d created a new meaning to the phrase. “But I d-d-did. I shook Sala in his face.”

“What?” Hope frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Mocking her death had been unforgivable. The instant the angry spiel left her mouth, she’d regretted it. But, why, why couldn’t he have listened to her? He wouldn’t let her explain or apologize. The disgust in his eyes had cut her deep. At his automatic condemnation, suppressed insecurities and jealousies had surged to the surface, and she’d retaliated out of hurt.

That didn’t excuse hitting below the belt. She felt horrible, ashamed.

She heard rather than saw Don Juan enter the living room.

“Don Juan, we need some chocolate—stat!” Hope said.

“Fudge or brownies?” he asked.

“Bring them both. This is a chocolate emergency. And some iced tea.”

The android left.

“Chocolate—the universal antidote for a broken heart.” Pru gave a small smile. After William’s defection, she’d done a high dive into a vat of Rocky Road ice cream. “I hate to ask you, hate to impose, but can I stay here for a while—a few days—until I figure out what I’m going to do?”

“Of course you can! That’s a given. You don’t need to ask. Stay as long as you like.” She peered at her with concern. “But are yousureyou need to? Maybe you two can work it out—”

“It’s unworkable.” Her heart contracted painfully. Her friend hadn’t seen the disgust in his eyes or heard the scorn in his voice. His affection had been shallow. If he’d loved her, he would have let her explain, wouldn’t have let her leave. He hadn’t even turned around when she’d said goodbye.

She’d fled before he’d ordered her to go.

The android returned and set a tray of chocolate and two drinks on the table that popped up in front of the sofa. “May I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Hope replied.

Pru shook her head. Not even chocolate could help, but she took a piece of fudge anyway.

Don Juan lingered in the room as if waiting for something. She remembered how he’d waited for a report on his cooking at lunch that day. She took a nibble of the candy. Rich and creamy. “It’s delicious,” she said.

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