Chapter 2

Nat came home before dawn, Diana's perfume on him.

My voice came out rough. "Where were you?"

He looked at my bloodless face and frowned, impatient. "You don't trust me?"

My nails bit into my palms. A short laugh slipped out.

Five years. Every single argument, he stopped my mouth with the same word: trust.

And nothing he ever did gave me an ounce of security.

I said it calmly. "Let's get divorced."

His voice went cold. "Evelyn, you'd blow up our marriage over two days off?"

"Fine. Once this project wraps, I'll take annual leave and make up our honeymoon."

"Divorce. I'm treating that as something you said in anger. Don't let me hear it again."

Then he changed his clothes and left straight for the office.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

Funny. Five years married, and I lost count of the times I brought up the honeymoon.

He always said coworkers would snap a photo of us, that we'd make it up once my work was recognized.

Now he'd finally remembered to make up that honeymoon.

But I didn't want it anymore.

At noon, Nat's voice snapped down the line, brows drawn tight. "Evelyn, when is the new proposal getting submitted? If you're not up to it, I'll put someone else on it."

Before, to prove myself, I stayed up night after night reworking that proposal, revising it over and over, and in the end he used Diana's.

He saw me lost in thought and his tone soured. "What is going on with your work ethic lately?"

"I'm tired. I'm taking the afternoon off."

"I'm not approving that."

I didn't argue. "Then you can fire me."

I set my badge down and walked out.

I didn't notice how livid Nat's face had gone.

Back home, I buried my head in the blankets and slept, heavily.

The dreams were strange and jumbled, dragging me back through five years with Nat.

Marry me, and I'll give you a kind of favor no one else gets.

I'll make sure you live well.

By evening a sharp pain twisted low in my belly. I thought I'd eaten something bad and went to the hospital.

The doctor's face was grave. "You just lost a pregnancy. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?"

"It wasn't cleared out fully last time. You need another post-miscarriage procedure. Have your husband come sign."

My voice was hoarse. "No need. I'll sign it myself."

Last time I'd called him more than a dozen times. Not one went through.

I only learned later that a project under Diana had hit a problem that day, and he'd gone himself to smooth it over with the client, drinking to apologize on her behalf.

But whenever I ran into trouble and went to him for help, all I ever got was one line: figure it out yourself.

That was when I understood. A man you can't lean on, you learn to stop leaning on.

After the procedure, I ran into Nat and Diana.

"Diana, no more cold stuff for you, understand? Your cramps put you in the hospital."

Diana played the girlfriend to the hilt. "With you here, it doesn't even hurt."

I hid in the shadows and watched them, as if I were the one who'd broken into someone else's marriage.

She really was lovely, eyes shining with tears, the kind of face that made you want to protect her.

One steady look from her and any man's protective instinct kicked in.

"Mr. Gilbert, will you rub my belly again tonight?"

Nat's lips curved. He was enjoying being needed.

"Of course. Didn't I already tell you? When no one's around, call me Nat."

Diana said it shyly. "Okay. Nat."

"Whoever gets to be your wife will be so happy."

His voice paused. "For her... it's only obligation."

I stood frozen where I was.

So he'd married me only because my brother had left me in his care.

His answer was a thorn, driving clean through my heart.

There'd been a time when he picked me up on rainy days, brought me flowers on Valentine's, draped a jacket over my shoulders...

Turned out I'd only been flattering myself.

I wiped my eyes and left, undone.

Your resignation is approved. Hand off your work within a week and go.