HE COULDN’T SLEEP, NOT WITH HIS THOUGHTS CHURNING, not with Katherine lying with her back to him, pretending to sleep. As he pretended.
Eventually, when her breathing slowed, exhaustion having overtaken her, he got out of bed and went downstairs. He turned on the television in the family room, the audio low, selected the recorded program on the DVR menu, and fast-forwarded to the last segment of the half-hour show.
There she sat—Nicole Schubert. To the casual observer, she must look cool and poised. But Brad wasn’t a casual observer. He recognized the anger that simmered right below the surface. He noticed the slight tremor in her voice and the set of her jaw.
He’d known she hated him. She’d told him so that last day in his office, the day she resigned. But he hadn’t known how much she hated him until now. How could he have guessed she would do something like this? Maybe if he’d expected it . . .
No, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He couldn’t have prevented it. He couldn’t have averted the damage she’d do. Knowing wouldn’t have stopped the doubts from forming in Katherine’s mind when she heard Nicole’s accusations.
All of those months he’d worked with Nicole. All of those meetings in his office. All of those evenings at the theater, laughing over the comedies, applauding the performances. All of those Wednesday evenings when she came to Katherine’s study. He’d prayed for her eyes to be opened. Why hadn’t he prayed for himself? Why hadn’t he foreseen it would come to this? A wiser man might have seen it coming.
Father, I’ve made my share of mistakes, and I’m sorry for them. I should have been wiser. You know the truth, and You know what I should do about it. Show me the way.
He rewound the recording and hit Play again.