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When I turn into her room, I immediately know she’s gone. The room is empty except for the furniture that was here when I moved in. Suitcase, clothes, shoes… all of it gone. Even the linens are stripped off the bed.
She’s… gone.
I can’t even begin to process it. The woman is the most relentless person I know. She doesn’t ever give up in a fight, and the first time we broke up doesn’t count. She didn’t give up that time but rather gave me an ultimatum, which I didn’t accept, so, in essence, I’m the one who gave up. I couldn’t blame her for leaving that time.
But fuck… I kind of blame her now. Where is my hotheaded temptress who tries to seduce me back into being a husband? Or the woman who gets in my face and yells at how stupid I’ve been?
When Simone first found out about my dad, I panicked and tried to push her out of my life. Our relationship was new and I was so fucking ashamed of who I was.
“Just stay the fuck away from me,” I snarled at her. All my walls were going back up, my instinct to protect myself overwhelming me.
Did she stay away? No.
She ran at me, her petite body slamming into mine, and she wrapped her arms around me tight. She clung to me, pressing her face into my chest, and squeezed me so tight I thought she’d crack a rib.
I didn’t reciprocate the hug. I was frozen in fear.
“You better hold me, you motherfucker,” she growled, and it was the fiercest, most intimidating thing anyone had ever said to me. “I know you, Van Turner. And I think you’re mighty fine. Don’t you even think about telling me I deserve better, or that you don’t have anything to give me. At the very least, you better sure as fuck keep giving me what you’ve been giving me, and if I had my way, you’d talk to me and tell me everything.”
That was probably the moment I fell a little in love with my wife. Demanding I give her what she deserved and feeling like I deserved her in return.
“I’m not surprised,” I finally muttered, wrapping my arms around her.
She looked up at me. “By what?”
“That you won’t take no for an answer. You’re relentless.”
Where the hell did my brat go? There’s no way she could have given up. It’s not in her makeup.
I pull out my phone and call the one person I know will know where Simone is and who will be willing to talk to me.
Anna answers on the second ring. “Hi, Van.”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb blond with me, Anna. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
Anna laughs. “She went back to Vermont.”
Even though I knew that, it still fucking hurts to hear it. “But… why?”
“Probably because you’re a big fucking dum-dum.”
I nearly choke as I bark out a laugh, so surprised to hear Anna drop an f-bomb anddum-dumin the same sentence. “Yeah… that I am,” I assure her. “When did she leave?”
“Night before last. Are you going to call her?”
“No,” I reply and I hear a sharp gasp of dismay from Anna. “Calling won’t be good enough. I’ll need to grovel and that can only be done in person.”
“But she’s in Vermont. You’re in Pittsburgh. You’ve got a home game tomorrow night.”
That is indeed a problem. “I’ll look into chartering a plane. It can’t be more than a couple of hours’ flight time. Surely I can fly there, win my wife back and get back home to Pittsburgh in twenty-four hours, right?”
Anna’s silent a moment, then says, “If you can’t find a private charter, call me back. I’ll see if I can requisition one of Jameson’s planes.”
“Thanks, Anna.” My voice is gruff with emotion that she’s willing to help me out, especially since I know her husband wouldn’t lift a pinkie finger. “I’ll reach out to Brienne first to see if she’s got some contacts, but I’ll let you know if I run up against a wall.”
