Page 142 of The Wrong Husband

I watch as Drew wheels his suitcase with his clothes and personal effects into the living room. I’m huddled on the chair at the breakfast counter watching him take a last look around the space.

It’s clear that he has a fondness for my home and is gutted to leave. But I won’t lie. I’m glad he’s moving out.

When I walked in here after meeting my mother, it was to find Drew packing. He told me he’d found a place and was leaving. I was so relieved.

These last few weeks have been the best and the worst of my life.

I found my true love. I found Connor. And it gave me the strength to let go of my past. To allow the guilt which has engulfed me for so long to melt away.

He heads for the bookcase, pulls out a few of the books which are his, and slides them into his backpack. He heaves it over his shoulder, then returns to his suitcase.

I am seated with my back to the main door, so I can hear him wheel his suitcase to the door. Hear it creak open. Then there’s a pause.

My heart somersaults in my throat. Will he stop? Will he say he changed his mind? I grip the edge of the breakfast counter.

I hear the brush of his shoe as he steps over the threshold. The door snicks shut behind him. He’s gone.

Finally.

I slump back and close my eyes. It’s over. That part of my life is behind me. I run my fingers over my wedding ring. I’m ready to start my married life with a fresh slate. With a clear conscience.

I’m ready to tell Connor everything about Drew.

Then the door opens again. My pulse rate ratchets up, I look straight forward. Frozen. Unable to move. Footsteps approach. They sound like…Connor.Then his dark smoky scent reaches me. Something inside me unwinds. Connor! He’s here.

My stomach ties itself in knots. Nervousness grips me. Yet, I can’t stop my heart from leaping in my chest.

I clutch my hands together, fingers aching with the force of it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. No one has ever looked at me the way Connor does. Like I’m it. Like I’m his. Like he sees me—all of me—and still wants more.

Terror. Relief. Love. Shame. Desire. The storm of emotion rising inside me makes my head spin. Oh God.Oh God.Now is the time to tell him everything. I lock my fingers together so tightly, they hurt.

The way I’m attracted to him surpasses anything else I've felt in my life. I’ll never have what I have with Connor with anyone else.

The way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. His tenderness, his understanding for me, how he cares for me. The way his touch brings my body to life. The way he knowsexactly what I want. How he orders me to bend, knowing it turns me on in a way that guarantees an earthshaking orgasm. The kind only he can draw from me. All of it tells me, Connor’s the one for me.

I hope I haven’t spoiled any chance of a real relationship with him because I was such a coward.

I hear his footsteps come closer, then there’s a soft touch on my shoulders. "Oh, baby"—his voice is anguished—"you didn't need to hide anything from me."

There’s no anger in his tone. No judgment. Just a gentle invitation to lean on him.

I draw in a shuddering breath, lower my hands and turn around to face him.

He cups my cheek. "You don’t have to explain anything. Though if you did, it would help me understand what you’re going through."

I look up into his blue eyes, which have turned almost indigo. In their depths is patience but also, a question mark. Then, as if he’s unable to stop himself, he raises his gaze to look at something beyond me. I flinch. I know he’s looking at a man’s shirt draped on the chair opposite me at the counter. "Is that—" He swallows. "Is that?—"

I nod. "It’s Drew’s," I say softly.

Understanding flashes in his eyes, then his expression grows sad. "Have you had that there since?—"

"—the day Drew left the house, never to return."

My throat feels like it’s lined with glass. My voice feels like it’s being dragged out of a corner of my body where I’ve hidden so much. "We…we had a fight. I told him I didn’t love him. That I never was in love with him. That it was all a mistake. That he should have never moved in with me. He was very upset. We exchanged words. He walked out of the house. I shouldn’t have let him cycle to work that day.

"I could tell he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. But I was pissed off with him, and with myself. I should have told him earlier. I never should have allowed him to move in with me. But I was a coward… I couldn’t find the courage to tell him that we weren’t right for each other. The next thing I know, my phone rings, asking me to come into work right away. There was a spate of accidents, and they were overrun in the ER."

"No one told you about…what had happened to him?"