Page 20 of Heartbroken Husband
“Behind me,” he said, sounding relieved, but there was something else in his voice too, an edge I didn’t quite like. “We’re finally on our way home.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “What’s going on?”
“You and I need to talk,” he said. “Tomorrow morning at the office. First thing.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised, even though I was on edge now myself thanks to him. “Is everything okay? Is Dad?—”
“Oh, God. No, it’s nothing like that. He’s fine. I swear.” At least this time, I believed him. “He’s not sick and he’s not thinking about running for president either, so whatever you’re thinking he wanted with me in DC, it’s not that.”
“Well, thank God for small mercies,” I joked, then reassured him that I would see him tomorrow and hung up.
Finally getting to work, I managed to lose myself in the ins and outs of my day-to-day, the routine coming easily once I forced myself to stop thinking about Adeline. By the end of the day, I’d been surprisingly productive, but when I walked into the kitchen to start planning dinner, I realized my productivity wasn’t quite over yet.
Although I’d done well for myself over the years—better even than any of my siblings—with investments and an impressive stock portfolio, I refused to be caught dead having DoorDash drop off something like groceries. Which was how I found myself at the grocery store at eight p.m., picking up some things that Theo kept scarfing down in record time.
Honestly, I did this run at least two to three times a week, and I still couldn’t keep his favorites stocked.Maybe I really would actually be better off living alone.
I was still pondering it when I heard a familiar voice behind me. My stomach sank, my heart twisting behind my ribs. Iturned without really needing to. Adeline had her phone pressed to her ear as she grabbed two gallons of milk from the case. Her reddish blonde hair had been pulled into a ponytail, but more than a few tendrils had escaped during the course of the day. Her hands were shaking slightly as she reached for the bottles.
Her usually soft, beautiful features were knitted with tension, her lips slightly parted and her eyes round. “No, I haven’t heard anything about it, but I’ll ask my lawyer for a timeline.”
A moment later, she nodded and ended the call, but she was clearly struggling with the milks, her cart, and her phone still pressed between her cheek and her shoulder. I saw the moment the phone started sliding and I couldn’t help myself, lurching forward to grab the milks before she shattered her phone.
She looked up just as I grabbed the milk, gaping like a fish for a moment before clearing her throat and straightening up a little. Those blue eyes were still too wide and shimmering with tension that looked a little too much like panic.
“Thank you,” she said gruffly. “That was a good save.”
I set the milk down in her cart, not expecting her to say anything else, but an awkward moment passed and she was speaking again. “Being out of milk constitutes an emergency for my kids, seeing as how Lu’s diet is whole milk, dry toast, and vanilla yogurt at the moment.”
Obviously, I was out of my mind because instead of just nodding and walking away like I should’ve, I was suddenly speaking too. “How are you?”
Fuck, what a stupid question. I know she’s not well. She can’t be.
Her eyes watered briefly before she blinked back a wash of emotion that made me seriously consider running all the way to New York to drag her soon-to-be ex-husband through the streets. Or maybe something worse.
When it became clear that she couldn’t answer, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. That was a really stupid question. You don’t have to say anything.”
A stilted laugh came out of her, but the tension between us was so thick, I couldn’t wade through it if I tried. One thing I knew for sure in that moment, however, was that if I couldn’t just talk to her for a minute, I was going to die right here in this grocery store.
Theo would have to stock up on his own snacks. The horror.
“Can we get lunch tomorrow?” It was robotic, a reflex, myclient voiceapparently alive and well, and yet, I’d asked the question.
She stared at me for a beat, clearly as shocked by the invitation as I was for extending it, but then she nodded. “I take lunch between eleven and noon.”
“We can meet at Starburst Diner. You remember it, right?”
When she nodded again, I turned and started to leave, but then I thought about that panic in her eyes and the tension lining her features, and I spun back to face her again. “Can I give you ride to wherever you’re going?”
She shook her head and smiled softly. “Thanks, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
The moment I walked into the W&S offices for my meeting with Alex and saw my dad for the first time in months, however, I knew I might not make our lunch date. But I also knew I might not want to.
Because standing beside my father was another old man I knew so well, and his presence here, today, absolutely could not mean good things for my future—and, for that matter, probably not for Adeline’s either.
CHAPTER 8
