With a sigh of contentment I didn’t think I’d ever experience, I fell asleep.
I woke up alone, my hand on cold, empty sheets. I wasn’t surprised—Katy had been more restless than usual the past few nights, and even more so last night. More than once I had pulled her back to me, feeling the sobs she was trying to hide. I had held her, letting her emotions drain from her body.
I ran a hand over my face and sat up. I would have a shower, then find her in the kitchen. I had to talk to her. There was so much to clear up—a great many things I needed to apologize for, so we could move forward—together.
I swung my legs off the bed, grabbed my robe, and stood up. I began walking to the bathroom and stopped. My bedroom door was shut tight. Why was it closed? Was Katy worried about disturbing me? I shook my head. She was one of the quietest people I knew, especially in the morning.
I crossed the room and opened the door. Silence greeted me. No music or any sounds from the kitchen met my ears. I glanced over toward Katy’s room. Her door was standing ajar, but there were no sounds from her room, either. Something in my stomach tightened, and I couldn’t shake it off. Crossing the hall, I looked inside. The bed was made, the room tidy and spotless. It felt empty.
I headed to the stairs, taking them two at a time, making a beeline for the kitchen, calling for Katy. She didn’t respond, and the room was deserted.
I stood, panicked. She must have gone out—maybe to the store. There were several reasons for her to have left the condo. I hurried to the entryway. Her car keys were on the hook.
She must have gone for a walk, I told myself.
I headed back to the kitchen toward the coffee maker. She had shown me how to use it, so at least I could make a pot of coffee. It was misty out, the clouds low and dark. She’d need the heat of a hot drink when she returned.
Except, when I reached for the pot, I saw her phone sitting on the counter. Beside it, her condo keys. My hand shook as I picked them up. Why would she leave her keys? How would she get into the condo?
I looked back to the counter. It was all there. The bankcards and the checkbook I’d given her. The copy of her contract. She had left it all because she had left me.
A glint of light caught my eye, and I leaned forward to pick up her rings.
My memory flashed with images of Katy. Handing her the box and telling her I wasn’t going down on one knee. The look on her face when I slid the band on her finger the day I married her for circumstance and not love. She had looked beautiful, but I never told her. There were many things I never told her.
So many things I would never have the chance to tell her—because she was gone.
RICHARD
I KNEW SHE WASN’T THERE, yet I still checked every inch of the condo. When I looked in her dresser and closet, most of the new clothes I purchased for her remained, but some were missing. Her two still-to-be-unpacked boxes were in her closet, some of her toiletries were in the bathroom, but the one suitcase she had was missing. I remembered hearing drawers opening and shutting last night. What I thought was her organizing and moving things, was in fact, her preparing to leave me.
I sat down on the edge of her bed with my head in my hands.
Why? Why would she sleep with me when she knew she was going to leave? Why did she leave?
I cursed under my breath—the answer to that was obvious. Penny was dead. She no longer had to provide for her, which meant she no longer had to keep up the pretense of being in love with me.
We had, I thought, been getting along well. I was sure she was feeling something. Why hadn’t she talked to me?
I barked out a laugh in the empty room. Of course, she wouldn’t come and talk to me. When had I ever let her know she could? We had become friendly enemies, united in our common goal. Now that goal had changed for her. I might have planned to talk to her, but she had no idea of how I felt. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it; how much my emotions had changed.
The question I kept shouting in my head, the one that didn’t make sense was: Why did she sleep with me?
The air in my lungs turned to ice as memories of last night played in my head. She had been a virgin—and I hadn’t worn protection. I’d been so caught up in the moment—in Katy—I hadn’t thought about it until this instant. I had taken her with no condom. I always wore a condom—there was never any discussion with my partners.
What were the chances of her being on birth control? I gripped the back of my neck in panic. What were the chances of her getting pregnant?
She was gone. I had no idea where she was, no idea if she was pregnant. Nor did I have any idea how I would react if she were expecting my baby.
Would she even think about that probability?
I hurried to the den, my anxiety now higher than ever, switching on the laptop. I did a quick history check, wondering if she had used it to book a flight or a train ticket, but I found nothing. I did a check of our bank accounts, sitting back in amazement when I saw she had withdrawn twenty thousand dollars yesterday. I remembered the walk she took in the afternoon, and how she insisted on going alone. She had gone to the bank and withdrawn or transferred the money. Two months’ “salary” was all she took. As I scrolled through her account, I noticed that, other than expenses for Penny, she had never touched a cent of the money. She had spent nothing on herself. She hadn’t taken anything for her future.
I was more confused than ever. She didn’t want my money. She didn’t want me. What did she want?
I drummed my fingers restlessly on the desk. She had left her keys and pass, which meant she couldn’t get in the building or condo. I knew she would eventually be in contact with me to ask for the boxes she left behind, and I would insist on seeing her first. My gaze strayed to the shelf in the den, and I realized Penny’s ashes were gone. Wherever she went, she’d taken them—but I knew her well enough to know she would want her pictures and the contents of those boxes upstairs; they contained sentimental items—things she deemed important.
My mind started spinning, working the way it always did when I had a problem. I began to compartmentalize and figure out solutions. I could tell the Gavins she had gone away for a few weeks. That the shock of Penny’s death was too much and she needed a break. I could say I sent her to a warm place to relax and recover. It would buy me some time. When she got in touch, I could convince her to come back and we could figure something out. We could stay married. I’d get her a place close by, and the only time she’d have to see me was when the occasion called for it. I could convince her to do that. I stood up, staring out the window into the dull light. The overcast day was the perfect foil for my mood. I let my thoughts flow, figuring out different scenarios, finally deciding the simplest was the best. I would stick to my original thoughts of her going away. I had her phone. I could send texts to myself and invent enough phone calls, so they would be none the wiser.
Except . . .
My head fell forward. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to know where Katy went. I needed to know she was safe. I wanted to talk to her. She was grieving and not thinking straight. She thought she was alone.
I gripped the windowsill, staring out over the city. She was out there, somewhere, and she was on her own. I had to find her. For both our sakes.
I returned to my building and pulled into my parking spot, letting my head fall back against the headrest. I had driven everywhere I could think of where she might go. I’d been to the airport, the train station, the bus depot, even car rental places. I’d shown her picture to what felt like hundreds of people but had found nothing. She left her cellphone behind, so I couldn’t try to call her. I knew she had a credit card of her own, and I tried to get in touch with the issuing bank, to see if it was used recently, but was shut down immediately. If I wanted that information, I would have to hire someone. I hadn’t been able to find a clue on my own.
Discouraged, I dragged myself upstairs and flung myself on the sofa, not bothering to turn on the lights. Daylight was fad
ing, the gray of night slowly eating away at the sky.
Where the hell was she?
Anger overtook me, and I grabbed the closest item and flung it at the wall. It exploded, sending shards of glass around the room. I stood, fuming and anxious. I paced around the room, glass crunching under my shoes as I made the circuit. I grabbed a bottle of scotch, twisting off the lid, drinking without a glass. This was why I didn’t allow emotion into my life. It was like a donkey, slow and useless, and it would kick you in the face when you least expected it. My parents never gave a fuck about me, and I had learned to rely on myself. I had let my guard down with Katharine and the bitch had fucked me over. She wanted to be gone? Well, good riddance. She could stay gone. When she finally called for her things, I’d send them along with divorce papers.
I froze, the bottle partway to my mouth. The chasm in my chest that had been threatening to crack open all day, broke. I sat down heavily, no longer interested in the bottle.
She wasn’t a bitch, and I didn’t want her gone. I wanted her here. With me. I wanted her quiet voice asking me questions. Her teasing laughter. The way she would arch an eyebrow at me, and whisper “go fuck yourself, VanRyan.” I wanted her to listen to my ideas, and hear her praise. I sighed, the sound low and sad in the empty room. I wanted to wake up beside her and feel her warmth wrapped around me, the way she had enfolded herself around my dead heart and revived it.
I thought back to our argument a couple weeks ago. The way she tried to convince me love wasn’t such a terrible thing. Had she been feeling something for me? Was it possible? I had dismissed her as being overdramatic—the sadness in her eyes, the weariness of her voice when she told me she was tired of lying, and the guilt that weighed on her. I had insisted we weren’t hurting anyone. Graham got a great employee, Penny had a wonderful care home, Katharine would move on to a better life once this was over, and my life would continue. No one would be the wiser, and no one would suffer.
How wrong I was—because we were both suffering.
I wanted my wife back, and this time, I wanted it for real.
I simply didn’t know how to get it.
I paced and brooded for hours, the bottle of scotch never far from my hands. When my stomach growled around two o’clock in the morning, I realized how long it had been since I had eaten anything. In the kitchen, I yanked open the refrigerator door and grabbed a container with leftover spaghetti. Not even bothering to heat it up, I sat at the table, twirling the cold pasta and chewing. Even cold, it was good. Everything Katharine made was delicious. My mind drifted to the night she had made me filet and asparagus with béarnaise sauce—a meal that rivaled anything I had eaten at Finlay’s. My praise had been honest, and her reaction had been one of her rare blushes. With her fair skin, she often had traces of color on her cheeks when she cooked or drank something hot. When she was angry, or nervous, her skin flushed a deep red, like a burning element, but her soft blush was different. It highlighted her face, making her even prettier than usual.
“I like that,” I mused.
“Like what?”
“The way you blush. You don’t do it often, but when I compliment you, it happens.”
“Maybe you don’t compliment me enough.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
She laid her hand over her heart in mock shock. “Agreeing with me and a compliment? It’s a rare day in the VanRyan household.”
I threw back my head in laughter. Picking up my wineglass, I studied her over the rim. “When I was a child, for a while, my favorite dessert was ice cream with strawberry sauce.”
“Only for a while?”
“Nana made it for me. After she left, I never got it again.”
“Oh, Richard—”
I shook my head, not wanting to hear her sympathetic words.
“She would give it to me, and I loved to mix the sauce into the ice cream. It turned everything pink and soft.” I traced the edge of the table with my finger. “Your blush reminds me of that.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, then came over to me, bent down, and dropped a kiss onto my head. “Thank you.”
I didn’t look up. “Yep.”
“And if you think your pretty words are getting you out of the dishes, forget it, VanRyan. I made dinner. You clean up.”
I chuckled as she left the kitchen.
My fork froze midway to my mouth. I had loved her even at that moment. The easy banter, her teasing, the comfort I found with her presence—it had all been there, but I hadn’t recognized it. Love wasn’t something I knew or understood.
I dropped my fork and pushed the container away, my appetite gone. I looked around the kitchen seeing her touches everywhere. They were all over the condo. Little pieces of Katharine she’d added, making the place more than somewhere I lived. She made it into a home. Our home.
Without her, it was nothing.
Without her, I was nothing.
“Richard? What are you doing here?”
I turned and watched as a familiar scenario played out in front of me. My boss, walking into my office, finding me packing it up. In my hand was a picture taken on my wedding day. I had been holding it, staring at it for God knew how long, thinking and remembering.
Graham stepped in, looking confused. “You’re supposed to be home with Katy. I told you to take all the time you needed.” He spied the small box on my desk. “What’s going on?”
“I need to speak with you.”
“Where’s Katy?”
I met his gaze head on. “I don’t know. She left me.”
He reared back, shock written on his face. Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew his phone.
“Sarah, cancel my appointments and calls for the day. Yes, all of them. Reschedule as best you can. I’ll be out of the office.” He hung up. “I didn’t see your car downstairs.”
I shook my head. “I took a cab.”
“Put the picture back on your desk and come with me. We’re going somewhere private where we can talk.”
“I’m almost done,” I argued. “I didn’t have a lot here.”
“Are you resigning?”
My sigh was laced with pain. “No. Once you hear what I have to say, though, I won’t have a job. It’s easier to do it this way.”
He frowned, and his voice became firm. “Put down the picture, Richard. Once we talk, I’ll decide what happens next.”
I looked down at the picture grasped in my shaky hand.
“Now.”
I did as he asked. He held out my coat, studying my face. “You look terrible.”
I shrugged my coat on and nodded. “I feel it, too.”
“Let’s go.”
We didn’t speak in the car. I stared out the window at the city I loved but would possibly be leaving. Without Katharine or the job I wanted, there would be nothing left for me in Victoria. Once I had settled things with Graham and Katharine, I would move on to Toronto. It was a huge, impersonal city. I could lose myself there.
“Richard.”
I startled, looking at Graham.
“We’re here.”
I had been so deep in thought I hadn’t realized where we were headed. He had brought us to his house. I frowned, looking at him.
“We’ll have complete privacy. Laura is home, but she won’t interfere.”
I swallowed. “She deserves to hear this, too.”
“Maybe in a while. We’ll talk first.”
I pushed open the car door, too weary to argue. “Okay.”
RICHARD
I STARED OUT THE WINDOW overlooking the vast property. Memories of bringing Katharine here the first day flitted through my head. How nervous and anxious we both had been. How well she played her part. My gaze swept over to the deck. Remembering our wedding dinner, my chest became tight. She had looked so pretty, felt so right in my arms when we danced. The day, which should have been nothing but another piece of my plan, had been a joyful one.
Had I loved her then?
&
nbsp; “Richard.”
I turned to face Graham. He held out a steaming cup of coffee. “I thought you could use this.”
I took the mug with a silent nod and turned back to the window. My thoughts were jumbled and confused. I had no idea how to start this conversation, but I knew I had to have it. I needed to wipe the slate clean, then figure out my next move.
Taking in a deep lungful of air, I turned back to Graham. He was leaning on his desk, feet crossed, sipping his coffee. He was his normal, calm self, yet the look on his face was intense.
“I don’t know where to start,” I admitted.
“The beginning is usually the best.”
I wasn’t certain what the beginning was in this instance. The real reason I left Anderson Inc.? The arrangement I made with Katharine? The hundreds of lies and deceptions that followed?
“Why did Katy leave you, Richard?”
I shrugged, feeling helpless. “I don’t know. Maybe because she didn’t know how I really felt about her?”
“Which is how, exactly?”
“I love her.”
“Your wife didn’t know you loved her?”
“No.”
“I think you’ve found your beginning.”
I nodded grimly, knowing he was correct.
“I lied to you.”
“Which part?”
I sat down, putting my coffee mug on the table. If I held it, I would either smash it in between my tightly clenched fists or throw the whole thing, contents and all, at the wall. Neither boded well for a civilized conversation—not that this was going to be.
“All of it. It was all a lie.”
Graham sat across from me, crossing his legs. He ran his fingers down the crease of his trousers, then looked up.
“You lied to me to get the job at The Gavin Group?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me why.”
“I was passed up for partner, and I wanted to piss David off. I wanted out, but I wanted to stay here, in Victoria. I like it here. I heard about the opening at Gavin and I wanted in.”
The Contract Page 20