His voice was low as he moved to stand behind her. “Veronica’s not the problem. Only a symptom.”
When his hands touched her shoulders, she closed her eyes. He was right. She knew that deep down. But she hadn’t gone out and had an on-and-off affair for seven years. Of course, having a dalliance was easier for him. There were plenty of pretty flight attendants around, something thathad always bothered her about his job. She had worried for years that he would cheat and had expressed that concern to him twice during their marriage. Both times he’d denied he’d cheated on her.“I love only you,”he’d said during one of the times they were in a good place.“I want only you.”
“Stop it,” she said, coming back to the present and shrugging his hands off her shoulders. She whirled to face him, fury rushing through her like a flooding river. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll get a restraining order.”
His face went white. “You’d call the police on me?”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted high. “I would.”
His gaze held hers again, his eyes filled with confusion and exasperation. “So you’re not willing to work on our relationship?”
“There is no relationship anymore. I don’t think there ever was. Not a real one.”Not a loving one.
“Mad... Madge,” he said, his shoulders drooping. “I’m only asking for a chance to make things right. I was going to tell you about Veronica when the time was right. I didn’t want that secret between us anymore.”
“And yet I had to find out for myself. We’ve been almost inseparable for the past two years, and you never said a single word about her. Not before we went on that cruise last year, or that trip to the Smoky Mountains the year before. Or when we traveled to Maine, New York City, Los Angeles . . .” She stopped, realizing something. He’d showered her with trips since his retirement, places she’d always wanted to go but never could because of her devotion to Harper. He’d told her he was making up for being away all that time during their marriage. Now she knewthe truth—he was assuaging his guilt. All those romantic overtures, those nights together when she thought they were reconnecting . . . falling back in love . . . It had all been a ruse to make him feel better. Even confessing his sins was about his guilt. He didn’t care how it made her feel.
She turned to the elevator doors and started pounding on them. “Help! Help me!”
“Madge, stop—”
“Somebody help me!”
“All right!” He clicked the button, and the elevator started moving. “You win,” he said, slumping against the back of the elevator. “You’ll get your divorce. Happy now?”
Her chest heaved as she fought for the air his words had sucked out of the enclosed space. “Yes,” she breathed. “I am.”
Don smoothed the top of his hair, then straightened his clothes. By the time the elevator door opened, he was nearly as put together as he typically was. The only thing missing was his pilot’s uniform.
How handsome he always looked in it.
Without a word he stormed out into the hallway.
She paused, trying to get her bearings. As the elevator door started to close, she jumped out.“Happy now?”His words pounded in her head.
Swallowing her emotions was so second nature to her that she didn’t even think about it as she walked into Ms.Pressman’s waiting room. It was empty. Where was Don? Had he disappeared down the stairs, reneging on their meeting again? That would be so like him. Only thinking about himself.
“Are you Mrs. Wilson?” the receptionist asked, getting up from her chair.
“Yes. I have an appointment with—”
“Right this way.” The thin woman gave her a worried look behind red glasses that had a chain hanging from both sides, then headed through a doorway.
As she followed, Madge fought for her equanimity. How dare Don pull this stunt right before their meeting with the lawyers? It was all a ruse to keep her off balance, she was sure of that. If she was upset, she might agree to an unfair settlement to get him out her life. Tempting, but it wouldn’t work.
I’m going to make him pay.
She entered a large conference room, and a smartly dressed woman with straight auburn hair cut into a sharp, chin-length bob walked over to her, extending her pale, thin hand. “Hi, Mrs.Wilson. Clair Pressman. Glad to finally meet you in person.”
As Madge shook her hand, she spied Don pacing back and forth near the large window. So he was here after all. Another gentleman sat at the table scribbling something on his yellow legal pad. He glanced at Don, frowned, and scribbled something again.
“Would you like anything to drink before we start?” Ms.Pressman asked. “And please, call me Clair.”
“No, thank you.” Madge touched her naked earlobe, just realizing that she had forgotten to put on her earrings. She was never without earrings. “I want to get this over with.”
“Have a seat.” Clair motioned to a comfortable-looking short-backed leather chair. “Mr.Wilson, we’re ready to begin.”
Madge sat down and placed her purse in her lap as Clair sat down beside her. Don continued to pace. What was he up to now?
