Chapter 2

Rain blurred Rhys behind the bar window as I slid into the driver’s seat.

I locked the doors, placed my phone on the console, and took my first full breath since he had said no.

Ninety days.

I could survive ninety more days.

My phone lit up before I started the engine.

Blair may stay with us for a few days. Please have the guest room ready by Friday.

I read the message twice.

Rhys had not followed me outside. He had not apologized. He had simply assumed I would go home and prepare a room for the woman he would have chosen over me.

Another message appeared.

Let me know when you get home. The roads are bad.

That was Rhys.

He could humiliate me in front of his friends and still worry about my driving. He could call me a suitable choice, then expect me to return safely because I belonged in his house.

Because I belonged to him.

I turned the phone facedown without replying.

The rain struck the windshield hard enough to bury the harbor lights beneath silver streaks. I pulled away from the curb, but before I reached the next intersection, pain tightened beneath my ribs.

My vision darkened at the edges.

I braked and pulled into the nearest open space.

Across the street, warm light glowed behind the windows of Rowan & Tide Books. I recognized the name. The library had ordered books from the store for our summer reading program.

I hurried through the rain and pushed open the door just as the man inside turned the sign to CLOSED.

He looked up from the counter.

“Mara?”

I had met Micah Rowan twice. I hadn’t expected him to remember me.

“Sorry.” I gripped the edge of a display table. “Could I sit here for a minute?”

He came around the counter. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just dizzy.”

He lifted one hand, then stopped before touching me.

“Can I help you to a chair?”

I nodded and tried to take a step.

My hand missed the table.

Then the floor rose toward me.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a narrow couch at the back of the store. A wool blanket covered my legs. Micah sat several feet away, holding a glass of water.

“You fainted,” he said. “I’d like to call someone.”

“No.”

“Mara—”

“Please don’t call my husband.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“An ambulance?”

“I don’t need one.”

“That would sound more convincing if you hadn’t collapsed in the mystery section.”

A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

He placed the water and a packet of crackers on the table beside me.

“When did you last eat?”

I couldn’t remember.

“My husband needed his medication,” I said. “He left it at home, so I took it to him.”

“The medicine is his.” Micah pushed the crackers closer. “You’re the one who fainted.”

The words unsettled me.

For three years, every question had been about Rhys.

Had he taken his pills? Had he eaten? Were his lab results stable?

No one asked what it cost me to keep him well.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“You don’t look fine.”

There was no accusation in his voice. He said it as if my condition were a fact worth noticing.

“Eat,” he added. “Then you can choose between a cab, an ambulance, or five more minutes of arguing with a bookseller.”

I opened the crackers.

Micah leaned back, giving me space.

“I know you from the library,” he said. “You run the children’s reading program.”

“You remembered?”

“My Saturday shelves empty faster after your school visits.”

Not Mrs. Halston.

Not the woman who had married Rhys for money.

Just Mara.

When Micah offered me something for the pain, I shook my head.

“I’m not supposed to take that.”

His gaze briefly dropped to the hand pressed against my side.

“Is there a medical condition I should know about?”

“Nothing that will kill me tonight.”

It wasn’t an answer. He let me keep it.

I checked my phone after finishing the crackers.

Are you coming home? Rhys had written.

Then:

Blair prefers the blue room. Put fresh towels in there.

I opened my calendar, found the date ninety-one days away, and created a private event.

Leave.

When I stood, Micah called a cab. My dress was still damp, so he handed me a dark wool coat.

“You can return it when you’re feeling better.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You aren’t.”

The answer came so easily that I had no defense against it.

Rhys was waiting in the darkened living room when I got home.

His eyes moved over my pale face, my wet dress, and finally the oversized coat around my shoulders.

“Whose coat is that?” he asked.