Chapter 40
Simeon shut down his computer and grabbed his keys out of his desk drawer, whistling a little as he headed for the door.
It had been a good day. He’d managed to at least touch base with most of his clients this week and had even called Everlee to make sure Wendy had followed up on the referral. She had—and Everlee seemed optimistic about working with her, which had been a huge weight off Simeon’s shoulders. He hated the idea that he had given up on a client, but in this case it had been for the best—the fact that he hadn’t heard from Wendy once since he’d gotten back was proof enough of that.
And now he was on his way home to Abigail. He’d been thinking about it all day and had decided for certain—tonight was the night he’d ask her to wear her wedding ring again. After Lydia and Liam’s rehearsal dinner.
If he could wait that long.
He spent the drive planning what he’d say—how he’d tell her that getting to know her all over again had only made him fall more deeply in love with her. How he would continue to love and cherish her all their days. How she made him want to be the best husband he could be.
By the time he got home, he knew—he couldn’t wait until after the rehearsal. He had to ask her right now.
He practically flew into the house, calling her name.
When she didn’t answer, he headed straight for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time. At the top, he darted into his office and grabbed the ring, tucking it firmly into his pocket.
“Abigail.” He couldn’t make his feet—or his heart—slow down as he catapulted for the bedroom. She was probably getting ready—
“Abigail?”
She was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring right at the door, her eyes puffy, her expression stony.
“Abigail, what is it?”
Something had happened.
Something bad.
But she didn’t have any family, and if anything had happened to his family, someone would have called him.
He crossed the room and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, his heart pounding in all the wrong ways.
Abigail shrugged out of his grip, then picked up an envelope that rested on the bed next to her.
Silently, she passed it to him.
“What is this?”
She shook her head, not looking at him.
Dread collected in his stomach as he reached into the envelope.
The moment his eyes fell on the letterhead, he knew what it was. “Abigail.”
“You said we weren’t getting divorced.” Her words were quiet, but somehow they seemed to reverberate off the walls.
“We weren’t,” he said firmly.
“Then what’s that?” She struck at the papers in his hands and met his eyes, the heartbreak in hers thrashing at his chest.
“You had them drawn up on the day of the accident. That morning, I guess. I didn’t know anything about them until Zeb found a copy in the car after . . . I never would have signed them, Abigail. That’s why I said we weren’t getting divorced when you asked. Because we weren’t. I wouldn’t have signed them,” he repeated. “I would have fought for our marriage. Even when you couldn’t.”
Her brows lowered, creasing her forehead into lines that he wanted to smooth away. Instead, he lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the bed next to her. He braced his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He’d so badly wanted to shield her from this. But he should have told her.
“Losing the babies was so hard on you,” he started. “You were depressed, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t reach you. I felt so . . .” He exhaled sharply as the feelings hit him again. “So helpless— I knew I was losing you, and you just kept pushing me away. But I didn’t know you were going to file those—” He broke off, shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe it. “I should have told you when you asked. But everything was still so new to you—I was still so new to you—and I didn’t want you to think that maybe we didn’t belong together. Because we do.” He reached for her hands, but she tugged them away.
“Do we?”
He jerked upright, turning toward her. “How can you even ask that?” he said hoarsely.
She refused to look at him. “You kissed another woman.” The flat words conflicted with her contorted expression.
“What?” The dread that had been collecting in his stomach imploded. “Why would you—”
“She came over today.” The defeat in Abigail’s voice was too familiar—too much like it had been before the accident. “She brought those.” Abigail pointed to the papers Simeon had tossed onto the bed. “Along with the little announcement that you two kissed a couple of weeks ago.”
“Wendy came here?” Simeon’s whole body went cold, then hot. How dare she—
“You kissed her a couple of weeks ago, Simeon.” Abigail looked up, her eyes brimming. “So don’t tell me the problems were only before the accident.”
“Man alive, Abigail.” Simeon stood, needing to do something with all the pent-up energy that suddenly surged through him. “After everything, do you really think I would—” He stopped. This wasn’t her fault. He should have told her the moment it happened. “We didn’t kiss,” he said. “She kissed me. I pushed her away and told her to find another counselor. Which she did. I just spoke to her counselor today, and it sounded like she was doing well. I never thought she would—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Abigail cut off his explanation.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It was a work thing. I didn’t—”
“A work thing?” Abigail’s laugh was incredulous. “Another woman kisses you, and you call it a work thing?” Her lip lifted in a sneer.
“Abigail, she was a client. She got confused and thought she had feelings for me. I promise you, I had no feelings for her. I fired her. You can ask Everlee. I called her to document everything.”
“But you didn’t tell me.” The ache in her voice nearly destroyed him.
He rushed to the bed and dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his hands around hers tight enough that she couldn’t pull away. “You have to believe me when I say I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you. You believe that, right?”
She didn’t respond, and Simeon dropped his head to their joined hands in her lap. “I’m so—”
The blast of his phone cut him off.
He kept one hand wrapped around hers as he pulled the phone out of his pocket with the other.
The screen showed Asher’s name, and Simeon was about to ignore the call when Abigail said, “They’re probably wondering where we are.”
The rehearsal.
Simeon’s eyes flicked to the time. 5:15. They were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago.
He swiped to answer the phone. “We’re on our way,” he said before Asher could get a word out.
“Everything okay?” Asher asked. In the background, Simeon could hear talking and laughter.
He glanced at his hand still locked around Abigail’s. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Everything’s good.” As he hung up, he prayed that was true.