She had been gone, and life had continued without her. She wasn’t selfish enough to pretend the community had been held in stasis while she was absent. But this was one instance where she didn’t want to know how time marched on. She didn’t want to see what had changed on the other side of the door of her beloved home.
Maybe he had kept her paint colors and the cobbled-together kitchen, assembled from various reclaimed cabinets found on the property and at the town dump. Maybe he had upgraded the bathroom and installed the clawfoot tub she’d always talked about. Maybe he had left the building as a time capsule to their early days.
But probably he hadn’t.
As a businessman, he would have swept in with his cool efficiency and erased everything nostalgic. She wasn’t ready to accept how much the world moved forward while she was trapped in the past.
Instead of facing the situation head on, she locked the door, pocketed the key, and turned away. What were the odds that she’d come here to frighten her husband off the property and really only succeeded in finding all her old ghosts?
* * *
Striding out the front door and down the covered porch toward the gravel path, Christopher wasn’t looking for his wife. Stalking her was too much. While he’d admit his curiosity peaked earlier, tangling up with an unexpected surge of jealousy, he had calmed down over the past hour. Rationality surged, subduing the excess of emotions, and he reasoned he could give her a little leeway. She hadn’t rejected the schedule outright. She had merely said she had business to attend. He understood the value of seeing commitments through to completion.
As long as it’s not romance. He gritted his teeth. He might have growled.
“Oh, hello,” she said.
He lifted his head and spotted her.
She walked towards him from the direction of the cottage.
His heart caught in his throat. He shouldn’t read into her visiting their former love nest. But she told him she had a big, important errand. Perhaps a sudden longing for the good old days prompted her.
He was disappointed by how the idea heartened him. She could have been curious about the updates. Then he’d have to be worried about what she’d think. She never wasted a chance to offer an opinion.
When he had renovated the other two spaces in the stables, he’d planned to update the worn-out features of their home for guests. He hadn’t let the crew do much more than slap fresh paint on the walls and remove their belongings. Without their things, the cottage lost its coziness and intimacy. He had no qualms about renting the space to guests with the heart of their home long gone.
He cleared his throat. “Hello. Are you heading to the movie? You still have time to make it.”
“Yes, I’ll head over there now.”
She sounded a little strained. Did she stop herself from rolling her eyes? He wasn’t a nag and had never micromanaged her. But he had found a skill in being the one in charge.
“What are you doing? Looking for me?” She arched a brow, and the tilt of her mouth gave her lopsided expression a coy hint.
It did something to him. He hadn’t had a visceral response in years. With her, he felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her until she had an entirely different reason to smile. If she could think straight. If he could remember why he grabbed her.
She stared at him pointedly.
He coughed. “Not quite. I was taking a walk to clear my head and get out of the building. I try to get fresh air every day, or it feels like I’m trapped under glass.”
She rubbed her hands together, her gaze darting side to side. “Are you sure you want people to see us together?”
He shrugged. “It’s sort of inevitable, isn’t it? We’re still married.”
She had no response.
If she was worried about being spotted together, she shouldn’t have introduced herself to the staff as Mrs. Hale-Lewis. His employees reported their initial meeting as soon as it happened. Distancing herself now didn’t make sense. It was foolish to think they could pretend nothing shifted, or they hadn’t evolved. She’d hurt him, and he’d hurt her. They had to deal with it and move forward the best they could. Something inside couldn’t help but issue a challenge, though. “Want to run the gauntlet?”
She pulled a face and grabbed her waist, her skin turning green. “My stomach hurts just thinking about it.”
He laughed. “You can’t run to the boardwalk, drink three milkshakes, and run back anymore?”
“Can you?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t been successful in their youth. “I haven’t tried. I don’t think I’d be welcome at the ice cream parlor anymore.”
“Maybe we could just do the running and leave the dairy portion out of it. I wouldn’t mind some exercise. I can’t handle sugar anymore.”
