Page 70 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Your father will not be pleased to see a repeat cost against his retainer.”
“Fred, I told you last fall that these charges are not to be put against my father’s retainer. I will pay you personally. This is not Father’s business.”
“Yes, of course,” he backpedaled. Either he had forgotten my instruction or he had ignored it. I was really hoping for the former but I suspected the latter, since he and my father often golfed together.
“I will notify you when I’ve made my decision. Good-bye,” I said and hung up.
It had been a month since Father’s irate early morning phone call and I hadn’t heard from him since. Though, Steffie had called. Apparently, she’d caved and told him the man that had yelled at him that morning was none other than my husband.
But if Fred told him that I was delaying the divorce, my father would get much more intrusive, and even Steffie’s charms wouldn’t keep him from plotting something nasty.
Shit.
I needed to decide what to do. Not just so I had an answer to my father’s inevitable questions, but for my sake. And Nick’s.
I enjoyed being with Nick. Our relationship was normal. It satisfied the cravings I’d had my whole life for something genuine and real.
But it didn’t feel like we were married. It felt exactly like it was: two adults who were dating. We were seeing how the other fit into our everyday life with no long-term promises.
Someday I wanted what my grandparents had had in their marriage. Love. Honor. Commitment. Trust. Friendship.
Did Nick and I have those? In small pieces, but not as a whole.
Part of me wondered if we could ever move forward if we didn’t do something drastic. Truly start over. Both of us were content with how things were going. But what was next? If we were already married, what could we look forward to? Maybe one day living under the same roof?
I wanted more. I wanted Vegas back. All of that passion and excitement. To know I was the luckiest woman in the world. To be utterly consumed by love.
And over these last few weeks, I’d started thinking a divorce might be our best option.
I didn’t want to give Nick up. I just wanted to keep dating Nick. Then I could look forward to the day when we could get married again. And the second time around, it would be without ignorance or secrets.
Nick was going to go ballistic when I brought up the topic of divorce. It would disrupt the normalcy we had just found, which is why I had kept the papers hidden.
And they would stay tucked away until I could muster the courage to talk to my husband about a title change.
Scratch husband. Scribble boyfriend.
I pushed the phone call aside and finished up my tasks at school. Then I drove to Nick’s house for our new normal nightly routine.
“I’m here,” I called into Nick’s house.
“Kitchen, Emmy.”
I shed my coat and shoes by the front door and padded through the main room. This was becoming my favorite part of the day. Walking barefoot through his cozy house. Savoring the warmth from the fire ablaze in the hearth. Smelling whatever meal he was cooking for dinner.
Two minutes in the cabin and I was completely relaxed.
This is what all homes should feel like. I would have traded my enormous childhood mansion any day of the week to come home to a place like this.
When I reached the kitchen, Nick was standing in the middle of the room with his hands planted on his hips and a frown on his face.
“What?”
“I didn’t see you this morning,” he said.
“Yes. You did. If you recall, we had sex before I got in the shower. How can you not remember?” Tapping my index finger on my chin, I asked the ceiling, “Am I losing my touch?”
He grinned. “You left when I was in the shower. I didn’t see what you were wearing.”
