Page 47 of The Seven Month Itch
“Forever.”
Here come the tears. I watchedIndecent Proposalmore than I’ll admit after Terrence and I separated. We don’t have a go-to spot on a pier in California, but part of me hoped we could fix what was broken and start fresh. It wasn’t in the cards for us. Time might be able to heal some wounds, but not ours.
My eyes well again.Damn it.This time, I allow them to fall, to mourn my failed marriage. To mourn the part of me who misses him and wishes he’d fought for us. I bury my face in my knees and let every emotion I’ve tried to suppress rise to the surface.
“It’s time to let go.”
The night I told Terrence I wanted a divorce torments my senses on an endless loop. My pulse raced at the heat from his glare, a silent figure who stood before me in our living room. A stranger in place of my loving husband.
Did we do everything in our power to fight for us? No, we didn’t.
He was always away on a work trip, sometimes for weeks at a time. The void in my heart swelled after we decided to put a family on pause. After two miscarriages, my mind and body were beyond repair. I disappointed Terrence. He never admitted it, but why else would he travel more for work?
Job demands from my end picked up the same years we tried for a baby. Couple that with Terrence’s hectic business travel, and, well, it was hard to make time to get pregnant. We discussed IVF and adoption but became more distant with every mile between us.
The soundtrack during theIndecent Proposalend credits brings me back to David and Diana’s love story. To the one I lived out with Terrence that lingers in every thought. Would I take him back if he slept with Madison?
Diana had sex with someone other than her husband, yet you still rooted for her and David. Why can’t you do the same in your own life?
I can’t go back. It’s too painful.
Our separation broke parts of me that have yet to heal. I need to protect my heart, especially now that I’ve seen him with another woman. I don’t know much about Preston, but he makes me laugh and seems like a good guy—company to keep as Mr. Right Now. It’s not like we’ll head back to Austin together and ride off into the sunset. I’m not that naïve, and I’m not sure I’d be ready for anything serious.
Now you sound like Emma.
Whatever happens, I promise myself to be present in the moment.
I glance at the clock and jump to my feet. Shoot, less than twenty minutes to get ready.
Where the heck did the time go?
Preston stands from the table he reserved for us. “Justice, you look—wow.”
It’s no designer outfit, but I appreciate his words. Who knew a strapless sweaterdress with Em’s thigh-high boots would be such a head-turner?
I smile and drink him in. “You look good yourself.” His navy suit fits him like body armor. He motions for me to sit down and unbuttons his blazer as he takes his seat.
“Any particular reason you look like a Wall Street banker today?” More like a CEO, which makes me question how much he makes at the resort. It’s none of my business, but how does a man who gives horseback lessons buy what looks like a custom suit and diamond cuff links? Thrift store maybe? Either way, he’s givingKingsman, and I’m here for it.
He shoots a smile and shrugs off the inquiry with, “Training day.” The way he looks, I hope his boss gives him a raise and a bonus. The waiter appears at our table on his signal. Watching Preston give his order—and mine, which takes me by surprise—is a master class in confidence. I, on the other hand, look like a toddler drooling over an ice-cream cone.
“You okay?”
Caught. “Yeah—yes, I am.” I raise the back of my hand to my forehead to check my temperature. Anyone else hot in here?
He coughs into his fist, unable to hide his smirk. Hello, dimples. “Are you enjoying your day so far?”
“I am, but it just got better.”
He winks, and we fall into easy conversation. As the minutes weave together, it dawns on me that weonlytalk about me. He’s hiding something, and I don’t like it.
“Enough about me; let’s talk about you. What brings you to this resort? Do you work here?”
His reply is curt. “Business.”
I frown.Okay. So he’s not an hourly employee who works with horses. At least, I don’t think he is. “You aren’t part of the singles’ retreat, are you?”
He takes another bite of his lamb and washes it down with a glass of wine—an expensive bottle he ordered for the table, might I add. Definitely not an employee. “You could say my business at the hotel opened the door for me to enjoy a little pleasure.”
