Page 152 of The Wrong Husband

I’m done letting old wounds dictate how I show up. I’ll face my fears, not bury them. I’ll do the work.Starting now.

Whatever I’m feeling must show on my face, because Zoey slides into the seat beside me and gently squeezes my shoulder.

“Oh, honey, are you okay?”

Harper pulls up a chair on my other side. “What’s going on, Phe?”

“Do you want something else?” Grace glances at my half-eaten sandwich and barely touched coffee. “A fresh cup?”

Their concern wraps around me like a blanket. And it’s exactly what I need—this warmth, this gentle attention. Especially when worry is clawing at my chest, refusing to let go.

This is supposed to be Connor’s final trip. He promised. But I can’t shake this feeling. This tightness in my ribs. This dread pooling in my gut.

He’s done this many times. He’s trained. Experienced. Careful. So what, if he’s going to a conflict zone. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine.

He has to be.

I tap my chest, trying to rub away the panic pressing against my rib cage. Then take a breath and manage a smile.

“I’m okay. Really. But thank you.” I nod toward another empty chair. “Why don’t you sit? I have something to tell all of you.”

Grace settles in, crossing her legs. Zoey leans forward slightly. Harper looks at me with curiosity and a touch of worry in her eyes. “What is it?”

I look at their faces and steel myself, “I told you I broke up with Drew.”

The nod.

“What I didn’t mention was that he died in a cycling accident six months ago.”

“What?” Harper slaps her hand over her mouth.

Zoey’s eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about?”

Only Grace seems more contemplative than surprised.

Trust her to be a few steps ahead of me. I lower my chin and study her. “You were expecting me to say something like this?”

“Not that he’s dead no. But yeah, I wondered if there was something you weren’t telling us.”

“I should have told you guys. But his accident took place the same day I broke up with him. I’m afraid, I blamed myself for it.”

“Oh, Phe.” Harper leans over and wraps her arm about my shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“You do know you’re not responsible for what happened, right?” Zoey holds my gaze.

I nod. “I know that, now, thanks to Connor. He made me feel secure enough that I could accept my own shortcomings and learn to be kinder to myself.” I rub at my temple. “I realize, I was being hard on myself. I have… Had a habit of taking on guilt and feeling responsible for things that aren’t my fault.”

Grace nods slowly. “I don’t want to talk ill about the dead, but Drew made you feel less than yourself. He diminished you in your own eyes. You felt responsible for him when he was alive, and that extended to when he wasn’t.”

I nod. “You’re right on all those counts. When Connor found out what had happened, he was very understanding. He calmed me, helped me deal with the guilt I’d been carrying. Made me realize I need to be kinder to myself and give myself all the time I need come to terms with what happened.”

“He sounds like exactly the kind of man who’d build you up, support you, and believe in you.”

“Oh, he does.” I lock my fingers together. “I can’t tell you what a difference it makes to have someone like him in my corner. Someone who respects me and makes me feel so good about myself.” I look between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys earlier. I guess… I knew Drew wasn’t right for me. And I was ashamed that I couldn’t end my relationship with him. And when I did, he died. It made me feel like breaking up with him caused his death, which is silly, Iknow. But tell that to my psyche. I felt like if I’d cut ties with him sooner, he'd still be alive.”

Grace looks at me with speculation. “So, when you told us that you had ended things with Drew, he?—”