We Danced Among Shadows (Meadowbrook Ranch #2)

Prologue

He is going to break us here. In what should have been my favorite place.

How dare you.

At eighteen years old, I fell in love with this stone-hewn balcony, walking hand-in-hand with my husband.

We followed the realtor as stars burst in our eyes.

I imagined the slow mornings we would sip coffee together here, the evenings we’d watch the sun fall beyond the trees, the nights he would hold me in his arms as we swayed to soft music, and the midnights where he would lead our passionate kisses inside, away from the prying eyes of the neighbors.

At first sight, I deemed the place worthy of a love as perfect as ours.

That seems so foolish now, so juvenile and stupid.

I leaned in and whispered, “This is the one.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand.

And he’s squeezing my hand right now.

But my fingers feel cold and this special place is a constant affront to my peace. I hate it here. And I hate him—for the regret I see welling in his eyes, for how my body instinctively braces for impact, for the fear that’s already choking me, and for the dam of betrayals quivering between us.

“Hollie,” he swallows, searching for words. “I’m trying to find a way to say this to you.”

I don’t move—I can’t move. My will to fight is gone. If my lungs ever fill with oxygen again, it will be a miracle. For years, my existence has been about him alone.

My inhales, my exhales, every beat of my heart.

For him.

His breath shakes, bubbling up from his chest. At least he has the decency to pretend I mean something to him. My vision swims.

Please—please don’t say it.

I’ll have nothing left, nowhere to go. I want to beg him, but my lips only tremble.

His voice rasps. “There’s someone else, Hollie.”

I hang onto his every breath like each one might be the last sound I hear.

Surely, this is only a nightmare.

But he continues, the quake in his voice intensifying. “I—I didn’t mean for her to happen. She just did.”

I scarcely recognize my own voice. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”

“Really?” He gives a breathy laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “It seemed like only a matter of time to me.”

I blink, clearing the tears from my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve talked about this.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe I forgot. “We aren’t happy together. We haven’t been happy for years.”

Hot nausea leaps up my throat, and anger bites my tongue. I yank my hand away. “No, you weren’t happy. I’ve always been here.”

He tips his head, disappointed in me. “I knew you’d see it that way.”

“What other way is there to see it?”

“With the truth, maybe?” His voice rises in pitch.

I shake my head, not wanting to argue with him. He will never see things my way, and it’s pointless to try and make him. I demand, “Who?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.” Anger wreaks havoc on my insides—the pumping of my heart growing painful and erratic. “Tell me.”

He hangs his head, his blond hair flopping down across his forehead and I wonder what I ever saw in him. Even though he’s aging gracefully, he’s not handsome to me. Not anymore. He whispers, “My—my assistant, Kayleigh.”

Kayleigh.

My inhale wheezes, my ribcage suddenly as unmovable as steel. “How long?”

His blue eyes flick up to mine and, for a fraction of a second, I detect humanity in his irises. “Since…” He looks away again, the shame too great. “Since she started.”

Six years.

I taste bile. “All the weekends away? All the new branch set ups? Was she with you?”

He doesn’t answer.

A sob escapes as I continue. “All the times you worked through the night. All the extra business expenses. All the travel. Was it all with her?” I stand so fast, I bump my knee against the glass table that was meant to hold our cozy steaming mugs of morning coffee.

He runs his hands through his hair, gripping the top of it.

“Answer me!” I shriek.

“I’m sorry, Hollie.” The weight in his tone answers all my questions—spoken and unspoken. “She has been a big part of my life for a long time. I kept it from you because…I guess I worried you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand? What is there to understand?”

“Well, we worked through it last time. We went to counseling and stayed together.”

I’m stunned into perfect stillness.

“But I don’t want to do that this time. I want a divorce, Hollie.”

My equilibrium dumps the world sideways and my knees go weak, sending me back into my chair, gripping the armrest for dear life as the blood drains out of my face.

He continues, “Of course I’ll still take care of you and the girls. You can have whatever you want—the house, the money—anything. But…it’s important the girls see us happy. And I just can’t be happy with you.”

With me.

Why?

I want to scream, rage, and throw a chair off my joke of a balcony. I have given everything to make this man happy—my personhood disappeared into achieving his happiness. I willingly laid my heart on his altar.

How is it not enough?

I made a fool of myself trying to gain his affection when he was being satiated on…on…

I can’t even make my brain repeat her name.

Their names.

We’ve been here before.

“Try to be happy for me. I’m finally happy. And, I think you can be happy again, too. We don’t work together and that’s okay.” He smiles, but it’s forced and patronizing. I hate it when he talks to me like I can’t understand big words.

A long silence falls. Uncomfortable, he looks away, off at the trees in the distance.

“I should be going.” He swipes his hands down the front of his work slacks. “I packed a bag.”

I cross my arms over my chest, certain I will throw up if I breathe too much or move my head.

For an awkward moment he looks down at me, unable to find parting words.

Then he leaves my hole-riddled heart in the wake of his shadow as he pulls open the french doors, and exits the way he entered—in full control with nothing to lose but dead weight.