the front of the counter. “I’ll be back at two.”
“Make it three.” Simon’s gaze traveled to Donna as he flashed her a quick smile.
Once outside, Angie squinted in the sunlight. Simon strolled at a leisurely pace through the historic section of Charleston. Actually, Simon strolled and Angie followed, her arms crossed in front of her to convey her feelings about this arrangement. They drifted in and out of quaint shops along the way, browsing. Simon didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but Angie wanted this afternoon over with.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, after an hour.
Her stomach was in tight knots. “Not particularly.”
“You know, if you don’t loosen up, someone might mistake you for a wooden Indian.”
“Very funny.”
Reaching out, Simon pressed a forefinger to the curve of her cheek. “None of this is the least bit amusing. Let’s find someplace to sit and talk.”
Simon chose the restaurant. Angie was too wrapped up in her feelings to notice the name. The hostess directed them to a table in the sun and handed them large menus. Angie couldn’t have choked down soup, let alone an entire meal. This meeting was awkward and unpleasant. Yet Simon appeared oblivious to it all. With the least amount of encouragement, he looked as though he would pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Angie was determined that he wouldn’t get that opportunity.
Simon studied the menu without reading a word. This wasn’t going well. He had spent the morning finding out everything he could about Glenn Lambert. The man had a good reputation as a stockbroker and investor, and was coming up in the largest brokerage firm in Charleston.More important was the fact that Glenn loved Angie. They both did. Under different circumstances, Simon would have liked the man. Lambert was an experienced gambler, but he was a fool to risk losing Angie. Now it was up to Simon to press that to his advantage. Too much was at stake to lose her again.
The waitress arrived, and Simon ordered the special of the day, not knowing what it was. Angie ordered the same. Maybe they would both be surprised, he thought.
“When did you cut your hair?” Simon didn’t know why he asked that, but anything was better than the tense silence between them.
Angie spread the starched linen napkin across her lap. It gave her something to do with her fingers as she composed her thoughts. She then lifted her gaze, looking directly into Simon’s eyes. “A long time ago. I don’t remember when.”
He acknowledged her answer with a brief nod.
“When did you cut down the tree?” She had neither the time nor the patience to skirt around the issues.
His fingers tightened around the water glass. “Two years ago, June seventh.”
Their anniversary. In a flash, Angie knew. She knew! Her breath jammed in her lungs as the knowledge seared her mind. He’d chopped down the tree because he couldn’t endure the agony of having it in the clearing as mute witness to her betrayal.
She dropped her gaze, trying to find the words to comfort him, afraid that if she stated her true feelings it would complicate an already uncomfortable situation.
“I don’t think we need worry,” she murmured, drawing in a long, quavering breath. “Our divorce wasn’t any more legal than our marriage.”
A shadow of pain crossed his features. “It’s not that simple. I married you with my heart and discovered it was impossible to divorce you.”
They each grew silent then, trapped in the muddy undertow of pain-filled memories.
By the time their lunch arrived, Angie’s linen napkin was a mass of wrinkles from all the nervous twisting she had done. Simon had depleted his water glass twice.
Simon was annoyed with himself at being so unnerved by this encounter. Angie hadn’t left his mind from the moment he had found her in the clearing last weekend. All week he had carried a clear picture of her in his mind. Now they sat like strangers, not knowing what to say. It was
“Make it three.” Simon’s gaze traveled to Donna as he flashed her a quick smile.
Once outside, Angie squinted in the sunlight. Simon strolled at a leisurely pace through the historic section of Charleston. Actually, Simon strolled and Angie followed, her arms crossed in front of her to convey her feelings about this arrangement. They drifted in and out of quaint shops along the way, browsing. Simon didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but Angie wanted this afternoon over with.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, after an hour.
Her stomach was in tight knots. “Not particularly.”
“You know, if you don’t loosen up, someone might mistake you for a wooden Indian.”
“Very funny.”
Reaching out, Simon pressed a forefinger to the curve of her cheek. “None of this is the least bit amusing. Let’s find someplace to sit and talk.”
Simon chose the restaurant. Angie was too wrapped up in her feelings to notice the name. The hostess directed them to a table in the sun and handed them large menus. Angie couldn’t have choked down soup, let alone an entire meal. This meeting was awkward and unpleasant. Yet Simon appeared oblivious to it all. With the least amount of encouragement, he looked as though he would pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Angie was determined that he wouldn’t get that opportunity.
Simon studied the menu without reading a word. This wasn’t going well. He had spent the morning finding out everything he could about Glenn Lambert. The man had a good reputation as a stockbroker and investor, and was coming up in the largest brokerage firm in Charleston.More important was the fact that Glenn loved Angie. They both did. Under different circumstances, Simon would have liked the man. Lambert was an experienced gambler, but he was a fool to risk losing Angie. Now it was up to Simon to press that to his advantage. Too much was at stake to lose her again.
The waitress arrived, and Simon ordered the special of the day, not knowing what it was. Angie ordered the same. Maybe they would both be surprised, he thought.
“When did you cut your hair?” Simon didn’t know why he asked that, but anything was better than the tense silence between them.
Angie spread the starched linen napkin across her lap. It gave her something to do with her fingers as she composed her thoughts. She then lifted her gaze, looking directly into Simon’s eyes. “A long time ago. I don’t remember when.”
He acknowledged her answer with a brief nod.
“When did you cut down the tree?” She had neither the time nor the patience to skirt around the issues.
His fingers tightened around the water glass. “Two years ago, June seventh.”
Their anniversary. In a flash, Angie knew. She knew! Her breath jammed in her lungs as the knowledge seared her mind. He’d chopped down the tree because he couldn’t endure the agony of having it in the clearing as mute witness to her betrayal.
She dropped her gaze, trying to find the words to comfort him, afraid that if she stated her true feelings it would complicate an already uncomfortable situation.
“I don’t think we need worry,” she murmured, drawing in a long, quavering breath. “Our divorce wasn’t any more legal than our marriage.”
A shadow of pain crossed his features. “It’s not that simple. I married you with my heart and discovered it was impossible to divorce you.”
They each grew silent then, trapped in the muddy undertow of pain-filled memories.
By the time their lunch arrived, Angie’s linen napkin was a mass of wrinkles from all the nervous twisting she had done. Simon had depleted his water glass twice.
Simon was annoyed with himself at being so unnerved by this encounter. Angie hadn’t left his mind from the moment he had found her in the clearing last weekend. All week he had carried a clear picture of her in his mind. Now they sat like strangers, not knowing what to say. It was
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