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“What are you doing? Texting during our hike? Who is so important?” Tish grabs at my phone, but I delete the texts and shove the phone into my pocket. I’m tired of her snooping, of her trying to get into my business. She tries to control everything.
“It’s none of your business!” I yell too loudly, and now I’m dizzy. Damn it. I feel my legs buckle and I hit the trail with a thud, landing on my knees before sitting down. That’ll be two big bruises on my kneecaps, but I learned my lesson last time I toppled over up here. Bend your knees and drop. It’s more than nine thousand feet.
Tish’s shadow falls over my face. “We are a team. We’re married. We’re in love. We worked together until yesterday. We share everything. You are my business. I don’t appreciate sharing your attention during our romantic weekend.”
I don’t appreciate her tone. I must admit I don’t appreciate her much at all anymore. I force myself back to my feet, dusting the trail dirt off my shorts. “You’re right, dear. We are married.” For right now. But not for much longer. Suddenly it’s all clear. I’ll make it through this weekend and then beg Kate to take me back if she’ll have me. Will she?
No, stop, I’m getting ahead of myself. First things first. I need to calm down. I take a deep breath and gaze at the top of the majestic mountains, jagged blue peaks against a forever sky.
I wish I were alone, with time to think. I would take a leisurely stroll through the old town of Telluride, a town wedged into a box canyon surrounded by cliffs. Or go white-water rafting, or relax in the golf clubhouse after a round. But I’m not alone. I just need to get through this weekend with the least amount of stress. Once we’re back home, I’ll make my play. I’ll move out, get some space.
Fix things with my real family.
In the past few weeks, Kate and I have been laughing together again. We’ve even sneaked away to a couple of lunches, couching them as business appointments. I’ve been swinging by her office, catching up, making plans. We’ve reconnected, I think.
Was it too much to hope for that Kate might even forgive me one day and take me back?
I remember our last meal together. Kate and I sat in the corner of what used to be our favorite restaurant, almost like nothing had changed although everything had.
“John, you don’t look good,” Kate said.
“Why, thank you,” I answered. “I’m fine, really. I do appreciate your concern, though. It’s nice to know you care.”
Kate tilted her head and leaned forward. “I always did. It’s you who stopped caring. But anyway, just promise to get enough sleep. I hear that’s the secret to a healthy life.”
“Yes, I read the study, too. Thanks, Katie.” I wasn’t allowed to call her that, not anymore. And yet, she allowed it.
“You’re welcome. Make sure you’re taking your blood pressure meds, too. Don’t forget. We only have one more week until the IPO. I’m worried about you, even though it’s not my place now.”
“I want it to be your place. Thank you,” I said, my heart pinging with guilt and renewed love. She still cared about me. She and I bothknew how much stress was coming our way with the IPO scheduled. That’s why she gave me a bottle of relaxation pills from her naturopath. She was taking them, too. Said it helped her, and she knew I needed it more. We both felt overwhelmed. But only one of us had an unhappy, demanding spouse. My heart was taking a beating, and much of it was self-inflicted. I was such a fool.
When the waiter appeared, we both leaned back. The moment was over, but I knew our love wasn’t. I felt something reconnecting between us. It’s like finding a favorite sweater that was at the bottom of your drawer, and you pull it on, and it feels just right. In fact, it felt great.
Kate probably wouldn’t appreciate the old-sweater analogy, but we were so comfortable together, our lives still woven together. We’d even started collaborating outside of work. Kate suggested combining our real estate portfolios again, all our homes, and placing the properties in a trust for Ashlyn. I’d agreed happily. It felt good to be building trust again, literally and figuratively. A big step toward a brighter future together, I hope.
I pull myself into the present, taking a deep inhale of clean mountain air. I keep my tone light and reach for Tish’s hand. “I’m all yours, babe. What’s next on our itinerary?”
See, I’ve still got it. I watch her face flush. She believes I’m still in love with her.
CHAPTER 7
TISH
He’s such a liar. I mean, I guess I am a little bit, too, since I’m grinning at him right now like he’s telling the truth. I know him better than that.
How dare he talk to her while he’s hiking with me in the very place where he proposed? I stop on the trail and turn back to John. He’d better realize where we stand.
From the look on his face, he does. “Oh, honey, I just realized this is the spot. Come over here.”
My heart melts. He loves me, just me. Only me. I run into his arms, and he swings me around. I laugh. We are a Lifetime movie. It’s wonderful. He’s everything I dreamed about all those years ago. Everything I never had. Everything I always wanted. A loving man, a happy home, and a successful career: all the things girls in my hometown never thought they could have. I knew what I wanted. I found it. The perfect job. And then the perfect boss turned into my dream husband. I worked hard to get it. I am not going to let this all go.
“Ah, shit,” John says as we topple to the ground. “Sorry about that. Got carried away.”
I am cradled in his strong arms. I’m fine. We’re fine. The grass is warm and soft and tickles my cheek. I pick a bright-yellow daisy and stick it behind my ear. “I love you, John.”
It really can be this simple again. When Sandra in HR offered me the executive assistant job five years ago, I didn’t know who I’d be supporting. I had some experience, albeit embellished. Everyone does it. I didn’t have any interest in school—I just wanted out of my hometown as fast as possible, and so I left.
There was nothing for me in Pineville. No one had ever been there for me, not really. And once stepdaddy number two died, Momma just about died with him of grief, locked sobbing in her bedroom for days. He hadn’t laid a hand on me in a month on the day he died. As for my dear old mom, soon she’d be finished grieving, and she’d focus on me. I knew the pattern. I was gone before I could feel her wrath again. And I never looked back.
