Chapter 9: Kept Hungry

Claire's POV

I went back to the townhouse at noon, alone, to get my things.

Ronan had wanted to come.

I told him no, because I wanted to see my husband's face when nobody was standing next to him.

The house was quiet.

Honora's car was gone from the curb, and her wing was dark.

I let myself in with my key.

Preston was in the kitchen, sitting at the island with his shirt untucked.

A cold cup of coffee stood in front of him.

He didn't look like he'd slept.

"Claire," he said, and stood up.

"Sit down."

He sat.

I put my phone on the counter between us with the screen up.

"I'm recording this," I said. "I'm telling you so you know."

He nodded slowly.

"Honora's lawyer sent photographs of me to the whole board last night," I said.

"She booked my exam at 8:50 on Thursday morning, an hour before I shook in front of anybody."

He didn't say anything.

"I want to know why."

His hands were flat on the stone, and they were trembling.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Preston."

"I don't."

"You looked at her before you answered me at dinner. For thirteen months you've watched me wonder what was wrong with me."

I didn't raise my voice.

"You will tell me, or I walk out that door and you never see me again."

His face crumpled.

I had never seen him cry.

It was an ugly, wet, sudden sound, and he put his hands over his mouth.

"I didn't want to," he said. "I swear to God, Claire, I didn't want to do it to you."

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