Page 40 of A Simple Life

Quinn blinked at me, letting my words soak in.

“That’s quite the statement, Mr. Elliott.”

“I’m aware. And I meant it.”

She swallowed, looking past my shoulder. “I like you, John. And I felt, feel, the same way. Even when we were disagreeing, I was attracted to you.” She sighed, pushing back a stray lock of hair from her forehead. I tried not to smile as it fell back and she brushed it away again. I leaned forward, tucking it behind her ear.

“But?” I asked, keeping my voice level.

“I wondered if one of the reasons I liked disagreeing with you was because I felt safe enough to do so. Somehow I sensed there was a line, and you would never cross it.”

I frowned. “Your ex?”

“He wasn’t the nice man I thought him to be when I married him.”

“Tell me.”

She looked around. “Here?”

“We’re alone. The door is locked. We can go into the kitchen, and you can do your prep while you talk if that would help.” I sensed this would be a huge leap of faith for her to tell me and she would be nervous. Keeping her hands busy might be a good idea.

She thought about it, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll make my pie crusts.”

I followed her to the kitchen, staying out of the way as she gathered her supplies. I let her lead, giving her the time she needed to gather her thoughts.

“I met Preston Dutton at a friend’s party. He seemed nice. Polite. Handsome. Good manners. We had a great conversation, and he asked for my number.”

“I thought your last name was Harper.”

She nodded. “I changed it back when we divorced. I didn’t want any connection to him. I legally changed Abby’s name as well.”

I nodded in understanding. “How old were you when you met him?”

“Too young. Eighteen. He was older. I was taking business courses, and he was just graduating from finance. I told him my dream of having a little diner someday. Living in a pretty house and having kids. He told me he wanted to give me a big house and a big family. We became inseparable. I thought he was perfect. We wanted the same things. We had the same goals.”

“Did your parents like him?” I asked as she measured and mixed.

“I lost my parents when I was eight. Until then, life was pretty normal. By then, my grandparents were older and in a home. I had to go into foster care.” She looked at me, the pain in her eyes evident. “I never had a home or a family after that.”

“So that’s why it was so important to you,” I said, understanding.

“Yes. His parents, on the other hand, didn’t really like me, but he didn’t care. We eloped less than a year after we met. He graduated, we moved, he got a job and rose up the company ladder fast. He worked constantly.”

“Not easy on a relationship.”

“No.” She paused as she separated the dough into balls, wrapping it and putting it in the fridge. She leaned against the counter. “I worked in a small restaurant, learning the ropes. I loved it. He, on the other hand, hated it. Made me quit and told me it was beneath me. He couldn’t have a wife who ‘slung hash’ for a living.”

“Nothing wrong with honest work.”

“That was what I believed. I thought he did too. The boy I married disappeared. And he became a man I didn’t recognize.” She gazed around the kitchen for a moment, sadness etched on her face. “He changed. Everything he said he loved about me was now tedious and beneath him. I was an embarrassment most of the time.”

“You could never be an embarrassment.”

“To him, I was. I got my house, all right. One he picked. Huge, ostentatious. Cold. He had it decorated and refused to let me touch it. I had to drive an expensive car. Dress a certain way. I wasn’t allowed to even think about my dreams anymore. Everything was about him and his career. I got pregnant because he decided it was good for his image.” She sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. “That wasn’t what he told me, of course, but it slipped later. He got me drunk, and we had sex without a condom. I was shocked to find out I was pregnant. He was smug. Later, I found out why, and I was furious. Not,” she explained quickly, “that I was pregnant. I was thrilled. But the way he did it.”

“I can understand that.”

“We grew apart—especially him. Other than for his image, he wanted nothing to do with Abby. And little to do with me. I was trapped in a marriage with someone whose favorite thing to do was tell me all the ways I disappointed him.”