“Oh.” She pushed her plate away and stood.
Gabi took her coffee, grabbed a throw from the back of the couch as she made her way outside. She opened the French doors that spilled onto a deep, covered patio. A double chaise sat on one end and looked out over the backyard. The gray skies and moist drizzle matched her mood and offered the perfect quiet to reflect on her life.
At least now she knew where Hunter was spending his nights. She thought perhaps he’d taken to a guest room, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He didn’t need her any longer. Noah had paid off the mother of his child and had taken Hayden to a suburb of Boston. According to Hunter, his brother was looking for work in the city. What kind of work, he didn’t know. But he hadn’t asked for any money. Then a registered letter arrived with Hayden’s official birth certificate. Noah’s name was posted in the box under “father.”
When Hunter had told her the story of how he convinced his brother to leave, she’d never been more proud of the man she’d married. She didn’t doubt he was ready to take Hayden as his own son, but he was doing it for all the wrong reasons.
Still, when she passed through the unused nursery, a deep part of Gabi ached.
It was starting to look like she was going to be the childless aunt. The woman who couldn’t marry the right man. Too bad she didn’t care for cats. A house full of them would complete the cliché.
The coffee had gone cold, and despite the prickle of her skin, Gabi huddled under the blanket and watched the drops of rain fall from the sky.
“Hey.”
She glanced up from her meditative state to see Hunter standing in the doorway. He wore a turtleneck sweater and dark pants. His casual I’m not going to the office look. Looking at him physically hurt.
“Hey.”
He moved to the end of the lounge chair and sat. In his hand was an envelope that he nervously tapped on his thigh.
“Did you sleep well?”
They’d been reduced to small talk. “Can we please skip the niceties?”
His silence had her looking up. Hunter stared at the envelope in his hand.
“What is that?”
Instead of answering, he handed it to her.
She moved quickly, refusing to dwell and linger over what-ifs. Gabi removed the thick stack of official papers and unfolded them.
One word was all she needed to see.
“You filed for a divorce.”
She didn’t need to see any more and dropped the papers at her side.
He reached out and touched her foot.
She flinched.
His eyes met hers as he returned his hands to his lap. “It’s not what I want.”
“Last time I looked, the one who filed for a divorce is the one who wants it, Hunter.”
“It’s not what I want to do, it’s what I have to do.”
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “Mind explaining that? I’ve had a crazy week and playing on words is too much for me to process right now.”
He paused. “I met this beautiful, intelligent, caring woman who flat-out turned me down. My overinflated ego was mortally wounded and what did I do? I blackmailed her. I found any and every speck of dirt I could dig up and used it to get what I wanted. Completely disregarding what it would do to her.” Hunter’s self-degradation was a new twist, not something Gabi enjoyed seeing even if all he said was true.
“My inner selfish bastard took complete advantage of the situation and I brought you into my bed. Then I nearly got you killed, not once, not twice, but three times, Gabi. All for what? Pride? Money?” He ran out of words and lowered his head.
Her head started to bob. “You’re right . . . about all of it.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Except about bringing me into your bed. My eyes were wide open then. Did you seduce me? Maybe. I’d like to think I share some of the credit for that time.”
“I should have stayed away.”
“I like to think I made that impossible.”
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. “I’m so sorry, Gabi. Sorry for forcing this marriage, for putting your life in danger.” His eyes lingered on her cast. “For bringing you so much pain. Giving you what you’ve wanted since we met is the only thing left for me to do.”
She picked up the divorce papers a second time. “You said this isn’t what you want.”
“It isn’t,” he said.
She looked at him and asked, “What do you want?”
“I want the impossible. I want to go back and do this over. I want to meet that beautiful, intelligent, caring woman again and slowly bring her into my world until she can’t see hers without me in it. I want to treasure her every day of the week, every month of the year. I want her to know that because of her, I want to be a better man . . . the kind of man that deserves her. The kind of man she wants for all her tomorrows.”