Chapter 11: The Wedding He Left

Tilda's POV

Emmett lived in a brick row house on the south side.

The porch light had burned out, and a bike was chained to the rail.

It was past eleven when I knocked.

He opened the door in a gray T-shirt and old jeans, with his hair wet and a dish towel over his shoulder.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Odette was in your father's office tonight," he said before I could speak. "On her knees at his safe, with a flashlight."

I stared at him.

"Odette? Gavin's Odette?"

"She asked me if the letter in it said her name," he said. "I'll tell you the rest inside."

"You resigned without asking me," I said.

"I did."

"You decided what I needed, and you did it behind my back."

"Yes."

"That's what Gavin does."

His face closed.

"That's not fair," he said quietly.

"It isn't," I said. "But it's what it felt like. Let me in."

He stood back.

The kitchen was small and clean, with one pot on the stove and a stack of freight manifests on the table.

I put my keys down and turned to face him.

"Tell me why you really did it," I said. "And tell me the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You've been carrying something for four years, and tonight it's all over your face."

He pulled the dish towel off his shoulder and folded it in half, then in half again.

"At your wedding," he said, "I tried to warn you."

I went very still.

"I had a folder," he said. "Gavin's old bank. The loans."

"I told you I needed a minute, and I started to say there were things about your husband you should know."

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