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It wasn’t that Jonathan was worried about the weather. He wanted to watch for purely academic reasons—to know if he’d have cell-phone access again soon; to get an idea of when he could head back to the mainland. His fascination with the glaring swirl of the radar maps had nothing to do with the heavy weight trying to force the air from his lungs. Didn’t correlate at all to the dreams he never managed to shake, from which he woke up struggling to breathe past the water and choking on his inability to fight the currents.
He forced himself to swallow, and then tugged on the clothes Bailey brought him. He was grateful her promise to explain gave him a new direction for his thoughts.
She returned a moment later with a bag of potato chips, a jar of onion dip, and two cans of Coke. “Dinner is served.” She arranged everything on the coffee table.
“Not quite what I was going for.” He settled back onto the couch.
She took the spot next to him and twisted sideways so she faced him, one knee propped on the couch and resting against his leg. “Unless you can turn hamburger, two pickles, and sweet-and-sour mix into something gourmet, you wouldn’t have done much better. I don’t keep a lot in my kitchen.”
“Why not?”
“A list of reasons. I travel as much as I’m home. I don’t like to cook. It’s too much temptation—” She snapped her jaw shut. “Angel investor firm—how’s that work?”
“People pitch me ideas that aren’t necessarily worth millions, but are still solid business plans, and I loan them money in return for a share of the profits. Why do you own clothes three sizes too big for you?”
She grabbed one of the soda cans and fiddled with it, not popping the top. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to check the weather again until tomorrow morning. And that doesn’t mean midnight; it means normal wake-up time.”
She was trying to distract him. The realization threatened to make him smile. Not that he needed distracting. “I promise.”
“When I married Danny, things were wonderful. I knew you were wrong about him.” Bailey’s words cut deep.
“I see.” Despite him knowing something went wrong, Nana never told him what. Said it wasn’t her place. At eighteen years old, for the second time in his life, he thought he’d never see Bailey again. Not because of some great tragedy—though he swore it was one, at the time—but because she was engaged and refused to listen when Jonathan tried to tell her Danny was a cheating, lying asshole.
Each time she clicked the tab on her drink with her nail, metal clinked against metal. “And then, about six months in, life imploded. I was dropping something off for a friend who worked at one of the hotels, and found him sucking face with a brunette in the bar.” When she opened the drink, a hiss mixed with her words. She took a long swallow. “I should have gotten furious—that was what I felt. But I told him I’d see him at home, so quietly I’m not sure he heard me. I called in to work, went home, and stared blankly at the wall, trying to figure out what to do, until he showed up about three hours later.”
“He didn’t even have the balls to follow you home right away? Chase you down as you left?” Fury surged inside Jonathan. A rage he thought he’d put behind him years ago.
Bailey gave a bitter laugh. “Save the pissed-off-edness—and don’t tell me that’s not a word. We’re just getting started.” She grabbed the chips and nibbled one. “He was all sweetness and apology, and even brought me chocolates. Told me he was so sorry. He loved me. It was a lapse in reason. The moment he saw me, he knew he didn’t want to lose me. Swore he hadn’t been with anyone else since we got engaged, and it would never happen again. I told him I didn’t know if I could trust him now. He said he wanted to earn it back—my trust. We’d work through this. He’d be better. I’d try harder...”
“Try harder at what?” Jonathan wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
She met his gaze, eyes hard and expression blank. “In his words, I had put on a couple extra pounds since we got married. We both had things to work toward, and we’d do it together. Wait.” She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to argue. “We went back to happy la-la land. It was all good for a few more months—I was starting to trust him again—and then one of his girlfriends called the house. Rinse and repeat this conversation five... six more times? I lost count. The first couple of encounters, Danny was sweet about his apologies. It started with hints. I should take better care of myself. I needed to try harder to make him happy. I didn’t understand what he wanted in the bedroom. I was so fucking fat.”
Jonathan couldn’t remember the last time he was so furious. “Ale, I—”
“Don’t.” She clipped the word off. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Because you’re a decent human being, I assume that, and I don’t want your pity. Don’t say anything because you feel obliged. You tried to warn me, and what could you have done? You weren’t here. It wasn’t your responsibility.”
“If you told me... If Nana said something...”
“What? You would have hopped the next plane to Florida and beaten the crap out of him? Even if that was true, it wouldn’t matter. I would’ve been furious with you, he’d tell me it was my fault, and the cycle would start over again. While it was happening, I didn’t see it for what it was. The entire thing was my fault as I lived it. He tore me down, to the point I was convinced I couldn’t do anything right. I gained fifty pounds and hated myself every step of the way. No wonder he didn’t love me. Of course he was sleeping with other women. I was lucky he let me claim to be his wife, anymore. And you know how they love gossip around here. Everywhere I went, I was the pudgy girl whose husband was sleeping with everyone but her.” Venom filled her words, and her voice shook by the time she finished.
Sympathy died in his throat. She didn’t want that. Or pity. “How did you get out?”
“Nana.” Bailey set the chips aside, though she’d only eaten one. “She kidnapped me.”
Under any other circumstance, he’d laugh. Now the best he could manage was a snort of disbelief. “How’d that work?”
“Danny and I argued one day, and I fought back. It wasn’t the first time I’d bitten back, but it was the first time I told him we were done. I walked out, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. In the time leading up to that, I’d drifted away from my few local friends. My parents had moved to Tampa. I was scared of what he’d say if I touched the money in our account to get a hotel room. So I went to the coffee shop. Nana found me sobbing in my car. I was terrified he wouldn’t take me back, and just as scared this was the only place I had to go and I’d be stuck with him forever.”
Bailey dragged the back of her hand across her cheeks, as if to wipe away tears, but Jonathan didn’t see any. She dragged in a shaky breath. “She brought me back to her house. Then... she listened. I told her everything I just told you, more or less. She didn’t say anything, except to let me know she was listening. She had that damned expression you get.”
“I have an expression?”
Bailey almost smiled. “That stupid impassive mask that would make you a brilliant card player. She had the same look. She didn’t judge me, or offer her opinion or her advice. She let me ramble as I talked it all through. And then she refused to let me go home. She called Danny. Told him I was staying with her for the week. I begged her not to. What if he didn’t let me come home after? He didn’t care. Not until I realized at the end of the week I didn’t want to go home. While I was there, Nana and I talked about everything. What it was like for her to grow up. You. Me. Danny only came up when I mentioned him.
“I’m not saying a switch was flipped; I still had days I knew I was wrong and wanted to go back to him. Times I was terrified I’d be alone forever if I walked away from him. But Nana was there for me through the divorce. Through figuring out how to live alone. Through finding work. That’s how I got into the auctioning and appraisal. It felt good, selling off all his shit.” She made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “You must think I cry and scream all the time. I promise, in everyday life, I’m pretty even keel.”
“I had no idea.” He reached out to comfort her. He needed to do something.
She placed her palm on his chest, holding him at arm’s length. “Don’t. I’ll be fine.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she didn’t sob or sniffle. “I need a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
Jonathan ached to make things right but didn’t have any solutions. He let her walk away, suppressing every urge he had to stop her.
*
BAILEY STOOD IN FRONT of the bathroom mirror, red-rimmed eyes staring back, as cold water spilled over her hands and into the sink. She needed to bring her thoughts back under control. Relaying the story shouldn’t have hit her so hard. She’d dealt with it and moved on. She only told it to distract him and remind herself she wasn’t that person anymore. It was done and over, and she needed to drag herself from that past.
One thing tried to work its way out during her tale, and she’d struggled to hold it back—the nagging voice that insisted it was all Jonathan’s fault. He hadn’t tried hard enough to stop her from getting married. He walked away and abandoned her to that life.
What else was he supposed to do? She screamed at him, back them. Forced him away, her command that he go and never speak to her again not leaving room for argument. She splashed more water on her face, trying to shock herself into a more neutral place and chase away the confusion raging inside.
A heavenly smell drifted into the room. Garlic. Onions. Beef? She couldn’t identify all of the scents, but their combination made her stomach growl. She stepped into the hallway, and a glance at the clock in her bedroom told her she’d been hiding out for almost half an hour. It didn’t feel like nearly that long, but at the same time she might as well have suffered an eternity.
She followed her nose to the amazing concoction calling her, and paused in the kitchen doorway. Jonathan had set the table for two. In the middle of it all sat a bag of chips and a pot of something with the lid still on.
He looked up with a tentative smile. “Dinner’s on.”
“It’s after ten. Isn’t it a little late for food?”
“Nope.” He held out a chair and gestured to it. “We have to eat sometime, and you skipped lunch.”
She didn’t have the strength to argue the sweet gesture. “What are we having?” she asked.
He scooted the chair in when she sat. “You were right about your pantry; our options are a little limited. We’re having nachos. Sort of.” He tilted the chip bag and dumped a generous stack onto her plate, then ladled something over them from the pot. Stroganoff sauce.
He took the spot across from her, and nodded at her plate. “Well?”
She took a tentative bite, and her mouth watered when the first flavors hit her tongue. She paused to say, “It’s really good,” before shoveling up another scoop.
He glanced at her every few seconds, as they ate. She should be working on distracting him from the storm, but she was caught in the loop of her mistake that was her marriage. The guilt and self-loathing and blame that gnawed at her brain matter.
It was worse that Jonathan no longer wore that freaking poker face she hated so much. Every time he looked up, pity filled his eyes. Or that was concern, but the mess inside refused to believe she deserved that. Several times he opened his mouth, like he wanted to speak, then turned his attention back to his food.
They finished, and he insisted on helping her clean up. When the dishes were rinsed and the leftovers stowed, she stood next to him at the edge of the living room. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact.
“You can’t go out in this weather. I’ll show you where the guest room is.” She turned in that direction before he could say something. She stopped next to the door, as out of his way as possible, and gestured inside. “The bedding is clean. I’m going to get some sleep. Have a good night.”
“Bailey...”
She didn’t turn. Pretended she didn’t hear his soft request over the wind howling outside. When she reached her room, she flopped on the bed and tried to make out the ceiling in the dark. She wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not with the onslaught of thoughts tormenting her.