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Not only that, but what if she was the only person who could make him happy? What if her leaving had been far more detrimental to him than to her? What if Farris needed her?
What if his secrets were slowly destroying him?
“Why?” she whispered in the dark. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Maybe she would hire a private investigator. Maybe she could find out what terrible sin Farris had committed. A woman he had slept with...cheating on his wife? No matter how much she tried to find something big enough, bad enough, to end a marriage, that was the extent of her imagination.
Farris had loved her once. The physical need was still there.
And then it hit her. Even if India hired the damn FBI and they investigated every nook and cranny of Farris’s life, even if they discovered the truth, it wouldn’t matter. The reason the marriage had ended was because Farris didn’t trust her with the truth. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed.
She stared dry-eyed at the ceiling, wishing she didn’t have to endure the next day. She wanted to hole up in her apartment and forget this interlude.
Her heart had healed before...mostly. She could do it again...maybe.
For now, she would drink in this moment. It would have to sustain her for a very long time. Trusting someone else eventually—building a new relationship with a stranger, falling in love—those things were possible.
But the truth was a bitch. She didn’t want another husband. She wanted Farris...
