My Husband Sold Our Perfect Marriage on Tour, So I Ended It on Stage novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: Slow

Jack's room was on the third floor, at the back, over the kitchen vents, and it smelled of coffee and toast.

It was the cheapest room on the tour.

He had never complained.

I knocked at ten that night, with a tote bag on my shoulder and my hair damp from the shower.

He opened the door in a gray T-shirt and old jeans, barefoot.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"You're supposed to be in bed with a migraine," he said.

"I am. He's watching a basketball game in the suite. I told him I'd sleep in the bedroom."

"And he believed you."

"He believes everything I say." I stepped past him. "It's one of his best qualities."

I set the tote on the desk.

The room was small, with a single bed and a window that looked out on a brick wall.

On the pillow was the paperback.

The Lamp at Gull Rock.

His copy.

I picked it up.

I opened it to the last page.

There was no pencil mark on this one.

"I bought it again," Jack said behind me. "A new printing. I thought, maybe if I had it, I wouldn't miss the old one."

"I have the old one."

"I know."

"I brought it."

I took my copy from the tote.

I laid the two books side by side on the pillow, one old and cracked, one clean.

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