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“The fact that you’re still this delusional shouldn’t be as shocking as it is. Stay away from Hallie. This has nothing to do with her, nor whatever relationship you think we have. Frankly, nothing outside of these walls is any of your business. And speaking of business, aren’t you supposed to be out front, working?”
I knew that last part would really piss her off, but I don’t care. I’m tired of tiptoeing around my own business because I don’t want to deal with her.
“You’re an asshole,” she counters, narrowing her eyes at me as she flips her long, perfect blond hair over her shoulder.
“What’s new?”
“I can’t believe I was married to you,” she argues.
“The feeling’s mutual again, darlin’. Now, I have work to do, so unless you’re here to talk to me about my latest offer to purchase your half of the business, I suggest you leave my office and find something to do. Although, it is probably time for a coffee break. Maybe get your nails done again this week? I bet you could use a good massage, since you do so much work around here.” The sarcasm is heavy in my tone, but I don’t care. I’m done with her.
She flips her hair once more and storms out of my office. Of course, I’m hopeful she actually heard what I said—especially the part about my offer to buy her out—but I know it fell on deaf ears. No way would she give up the cushy lifestyle she’s living, complete with free house and business where she doesn’t have to put in the work.
My latest offer to buy her out has crossed over the fifty percent mark of the business’s value. My lawyer told me I’m crazy, but I have to try. I’d rather be in debt for the rest of my life but free of her than deal with her on an almost-daily basis. I’m hopeful that since she’s requesting more money, for whatever reason, she’ll actually consider the offer. It’s very generous, and while it wouldn’t exactly set her up for life, it would help ensure she doesn’t have to rush out and find another job right away.
I can’t help but wonder what she needs money for. She really does make a good salary for someone who barely puts in any time at the business. But when my father left us the company jointly, he thought he was setting me up for life. He knew I loved the store and would do anything to see it succeed. Little did he know, the marriage was already on the rocks and giving her half the business just made it worse.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out with a smile, already anticipating who is messaging me.
Hallie: Hope your day is going well. I have big news to share. I’ll bring Frannie’s fried chicken home for dinner, if that works for you.
The smile on my face grows. The last few days, Hallie has been craving fried things. Last night I brought my air fryer out to the cabin and made her mozzarella sticks, fried pickles, and chicken nuggets for dinner. You would have thought I made her a filet mignon meal with all the trimmings.
Me: That’s fine. I’ll be there after we close.
Hallie: See you then.
I reply with the thumbs-up emoji and place my phone on the desk. The last week or so has been…off. Ever since I made love to her—that’s the only way to describe it—she’s been a little distant. Her words have been cordial but lack the usual enthusiasm I’ve come to expect from her.
We also haven’t had sex since that evening. I know it’s only been eight nights, but it has just felt different. She says she’s tired, and while she does fall asleep almost as quickly as her head hits the pillow, she isn’t as touchy-feely as she has been. She still lets me hold her, but even then it lacks the depth and warmth we’ve been experiencing.
I keep telling myself it’s the pregnancy and hormones and to quit looking into it, but there’s worry niggling in the back of my mind, a fear of her pulling away bubbling to the surface.
Shaking my head, I push all of that aside and return my focus to work. Payroll isn’t going to print itself, and I know the employees would appreciate getting paid by the end of the day. So as much as I’d love to spend my afternoon thinking about Hallie, I put my time and energy into work, knowing I’ll be going back to the cabin soon enough.
I can’t wait.
When I pull up the lane leading to the cabin, a renewed wave of anticipation washes over me. All I want to do is get there, take her into my arms, and kiss her, so that’s exactly what I plan to do as soon as I cross the threshold.
I park my truck beside her Jeep and climb out, a little extra spring in my step as I walk. I open the front door, the scent of fried chicken filling the space. I open my mouth, prepared to holler a greeting, when my eyes land on the stack of boxes and bags, it causes me to pause.
“Oh, hey,” Hallie says, walking out of the bathroom.
“Hi.” My eyes sweep up and down her, taking in the black leggings, oversized crewneck sweatshirt, and warm fuzzy socks. “What’s all this?” I ask.
“That’s my news,” she exclaims. “Come in the kitchen. The chicken will get cold.”
I follow behind her, my legs a bit wooden as I walk toward the kitchen. There are two plates and forks set on the table, as well as bowls of pasta salad, mashed potatoes, and gravy, along with a covered platter of Frannie’s mouthwatering fried chicken.
“Want something to drink?” I ask, already reaching for the peach lemonade she’s been drinking lately.
When she looks over and sees what I have, she just smiles. “Thanks.”
We sit down at the table and start dishing out the food. Just as she reaches for her fork, her eyes go wide, and she stills. “What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly on alert.
“Come here,” she whispers, waving me over.
I’m there in an instant, ready to carry her out to my truck and rush her to the nearest hospital. “Are yo—”
