Page 19 of Revamped Rucking Reaper
“I might be stuffy and old-fashioned like my name, but I believe a marriage should be between a husband, a wife, and that’s it. No one else.” Emphasizing her point, she moves her hands from side to side the way an umpire would if he were calling a baserunner safe.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I reach for her towel and toss it onto a patio chair.
“Upsetting me seems to be a skill that comes natural to you, Mr. Grimm.”
“I swear I don’t mean to.”
She makes a face like she doesn’t believe me. “Let me make this perfectly clear.” She points her finger at me. “My husband rarely traveled, and we had no such understanding.”
“Okay, I understand. Then how did you find out?”
“After he died. I couldn’t believe it about the house and drove over there with the keys. Guess what I found.”
I shake my head. Any one of a thousand things pop into my head, and I don’t want to piss her off further.
“A note on the door with Zana’s name and phone number. Apparently, she left some belongings thereand wanted to come by to retrieve them. I guess she heard about Brandon’s death.”
“That sucks.” I make sure that there’s no hubris to my tone. I want to comfort, not antagonize her.
“Honestly, I’m not that surprised.” She picks her glass up off the ground and holds it close to her chest like it might shield her from something. “We didn’t have a great marriage. I got pregnant young, and he thought the best ‘remedy,’” she uses air quotes, “his word, not mine, was to get married.”
“Doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“It wasn’t, but that didn’t matter, because I loved him.”
She loved him. Of course she did. That’s why she’s so hurt. I wonder if she still loves him, knowing what she does now.
“Surprisingly, the first five years were great, and Gemma was the center of our world. We both revolved around the same sun, you know what I mean? Then we started to drift. He found brighter stars and got meaner and less attentive at home. We spoke about divorce . . .”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Gemma. We agreed, or so I thought, that a stable home would be best for her. At least until she went off to college.”
“She’s in her second year, though, and your husband died very recently. Did you stay because he was sick?”
“No.” Her eyes won’t meet mine. I’m losing her; I feel it. I need to draw her back in because, with her defenses up, she’s a totally different person. “I’d love to say we reconsidered and came together in the end.We didn’t. At least nothing that we spoke about. I just didn’t know divorce was still the plan.” What an asshole that man was. I’d love to give him a swift punch in the nose. I would too, if he weren’t dead.
“I don’t mean to sound judgmental.” I take the glass from her. Making sure to brush my fingers against hers. I want to touch her, pull her into my arms and hold her tight. Instead, I have to settle for the non-threatening, “accidental” touch. “I only meant . . .” I pause, staring into her eyes. They’re nervous, leery. I don’t want to scare her off. “Never mind. Let’s go inside.”
We head to the French doors without a word. In the silence, I feel my heart pound against my chest. It’s beating so hard, I wonder if she can hear it. Not giving her a chance to first, I open the doors, gesturing for her to go inside.
Once we’re in my house and my back is turned, she makes a mad dash to slip into her shoes and grab her purse. I don’t realize what’s happening until I come back from placing our glasses in the kitchen sink.
“Eve?”
I don’t want her to leave, but I don’t know how to ask her to stay. Feeling like whatever I do is going to be wrong, I look around while running my hand through my hair, trying to think of something, anything to make her want to stay.
“I understand. It’s time to go.”
“No. That’s not why I suggested coming inside.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to pull out the ‘I drank too much, can I stay’ card. I’ll call for a ride.” She’s not snarky. She sounds sort of sad.
“No.” She flinches, and I realize my voice is louder than I meant for it to be. “I promised I’d see you home.” I just . . . don’t want you to leave yet.
“Yes. However, you drank as much as I did. You shouldn’t drive.”
Shows how much attention she paid to me. I only had one glass of wine to her three plus. I actually lost count since she never quite finished her glass before it was refilled.
