Not the Bride He Wanted novel · Chapter 15 of 24

Chapter 15: The Boathouse

"He never knew?" I said.

Tilde shook her head against the door.

"Why tell me and not him?"

"Because he'd do it anyway." Her chin wobbled. "And you're the only person in this house he's ever listened to."

I got out of bed and put my sweater on over my nightgown.

"Where are you going?"

"I made a rule," I said. "Nobody in this marriage carries things alone anymore. It works both ways."

He was in the study with the fire down to coals and a glass he wasn't drinking.

He stood up when I came in.

Nine nights of separate rooms, and he still stood up every time.

I told him in four sentences, standing on the hearth rug in my nightgown.

He didn't sit back down.

He put his hand flat on the mantel and stood for a long time.

"My whole life," he said finally. "He never ran with us. Not once. I thought he was sick."

"Did your mother ever look at him like she was sorry?" I said.

"Every day," he said. "I thought she was sorry he was sick."

He turned around.

The firelight made his eyes look darker than they were.

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