Chapter 8: The Terrace

The sapphire came off my neck, and Harrison's fingers stayed there a moment too long.

Then he laid the necklace in Harriet's hand without looking at her and walked away from the head table.

I waited ten minutes, because I wanted no one to say I'd followed him.

Then I excused myself, told Eileen to keep an eye on Celia, and went out through the glass doors to the terrace.

The air was bitter and still.

Below me the harbor lights lay in a long broken line, and the cold went straight through my dress.

I was not alone.

Harrison stood at the far rail with his tuxedo jacket in his hand.

"You'll freeze," he said, and put it around my shoulders before I could answer.

It smelled like him.

I did not take it off.

"You announced it in front of the whole board," I said.

"I'd rather they hear it from me than guess it from my mother."

"That was the right thing."

"I know it wasn't enough."

We stood side by side and looked at the water.

The wind pulled a strand of hair across my face, and he reached up and tucked it back behind my ear.

His thumb rested on my jaw.

"Harrison."

"I'm sorry. I'll move."

He didn't move.

"You stopped coming to bed in August," I said.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Composure After Divorce Became His Greatest Torment from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.