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But the likelihood of that happening is looking more remote by the day. Sighing, I push the kitchen chair back from the table and rise. My back is killing me as I’ve been up working since six a.m., nearly three hours in that hard, wooden chair without a break.
I stare longingly at the coffee pot. I’ve had to cut that out since finding out I was pregnant and I miss caffeine like I’d miss air if I were underwater. That’s especially so since I’m functioning on only a few hours of sleep each night.
Maybe I’ll go for a walk. It’s nearly fifty degrees out today, which is practically balmy coming from Vermont where it’s a good fifteen degrees colder today. That should clear cobwebs from my head and the sunshine will do me good.
But honestly, the thought of changing out of my pajamas—long fleece pants and a T-shirt since Van doesn’t even look at me if I’m dressed in skimpy clothes—has me reconsidering. Maybe I’ll try to take a short nap before getting back to work, but I know as soon as I lie down and close my eyes, my brain will spin in constant rumination about my husband.
Indecisive, I stand in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do, but as fate would have it, someone knocks on the door, jolting me with surprise.
I look down at myself. I’m not even wearing a bra under the T-shirt, but it’s Van’s and swamps me. I’m wearing his clothes because that’s the closest I can get to him and the smell brings me comfort.
Fuck it.
I pad through the living room, looking through the peephole before I open the door. I’m stunned when I take in the blond woman on the other side. I jerk back in shock but surely I’m mistaken.
She knocks on the door again and I bring my eye to the peephole for confirmation.
Yup… that’s who I think it is.
Unlocking the dead bolt, I pull open the door and the woman smiles at me. “Simone… hi… I’m Brienne Norcross.”
She offers her hand and I take it without hesitation for a brief shake. “Um… hi.”
“May I come in?”
I snap out of my daze and scramble back, sweeping my arm for her to enter. “Of course. Come in.”
Brienne Norcross is about as close to American royalty as you can get. As CEO of Norcross Holdings, she is a multibillionaire and also the owner of the Pittsburgh Titans. I don’t know exactly how old she is but I think early thirties, and she’s exquisite with her blond hair in a sophisticated twist, flawless complexion and a ruby stain on her lips to match her red power suit.
As I close the door, she looks around at the interior of the house. I don’t even know how Van came up with this place since he won’t talk to me, but it’s been renovated recently and it’s quite beautiful. My gazes fall on my blanket and pillow and Brienne sees it too.
“Was watching TV last night on the couch,” I explain as I move to fold the blanket.
“I always fall asleep with the TV on,” she says. “Guess it’s the only way to stop my brain from working. Drake hates it though so I have to wait for him to fall asleep and then I can turn it on. I’m definitely the night owl in our relationship.”
I knew through the sporting news grapevine that Brienne was dating the Titans’ goalie, Drake McGinn, but I see her sporting a massive diamond on her left finger, so I’m assuming they’re engaged. I’m going to guess that’s happened in the last few weeks as I haven’t been watching much in the way of news. I’ve been too focused on my marital troubles.
“Um… can I offer you some coffee?” I ask.
“That would be lovely,” she says and follows me into the kitchen.
I close my laptop, push it to the side and nod at the table. “Please… sit.”
Brienne is silent as I prepare her a cup of java and I’m relieved she takes it black since there’s no cream or sugar in the house. Van drinks his coffee black and I can’t have it, so there’s been no need to have the necessary accompaniments. It’s not like I’m doing any entertaining.
Sliding into the chair opposite Brienne, I can’t help but ask, “Why are you here? I mean… you’re clearly here to see me since Van’s on an away trip, but how did you even know I was here?”
Brienne takes a delicate sip of the coffee and sets the cup down. “Your brother’s worried about you. So he passed word on to Baden who came to see me.”
I was aware my brother knew Baden Oulett, the Titans’ goalie coach. Malik’s company, Jameson Force Security, has done a customized security system for the home he and his fiancée Sophie renovated.
“And what exactly did my brother pass on to Baden, which got passed on to you?” I ask, not quite managing to keep a polite lilt in my voice. I’m pissed at Malik.
“That you’re here alone. That Van left you to join the Titans and asked you for a divorce.” I wince at her blunt words. “You followed him here to make it work but he’s making it difficult. That you’re lonely.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. I offer her an apologetic smile. “I am so sorry he laid that on your doorstep. He had no right and I’m perfectly fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” she says with brutal honesty. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, which are also red and puffy. I’m guessing crying, not sleeping, or both.”
