The Secret Wife by Susan Mallery Page B

mouth twisted down. “Sad. I thought it was going to be perfect and it wasn’t. I thought you were going to stay.”
    And you didn’t.
    He didn’t have to finish the statement. She heard the silent words.
    “Don’t lay that on me,” she told him, irritated at the way he always brought the conversation back to her leaving. “You weren’t home enough to notice I’d left.”
    “Then why did it hurt so bad to find you gone?”
    The bitter words were his first admission of pain. They made her ache inside, for both their suffering. But she refused to be distracted from the point.
    “You left before dawn every morning and you got back around midnight. If you weren’t at work, you were attending parties put on by the law firm or by clients.”
    “They were business and I took you along.”
    “That’s not the point, Cole. Your time was always about you and your career. It was never about us, let alone me. I had no life outside of you.”
    He glanced away. “I’ll admit it was selfish to expect you to walk away from everything, then not consider that you could have continued your schooling in New York.”
    She brushed that off. “We’ve discussed that and we’re equally at fault. I’m just saying that you were a hundred percent focused on the law firm. You had nothing left over for us. I spent my days and my nights waiting for you, wondering what you were doing or if you were even working.”
    His expression darkened. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I was working. What else would I have been doing?”
    Making love with another woman, she thought, amazed at how that image still had the power to haunt her. Even knowing that it was her fault if Cole had turned elsewhere didn’t take away the pain.
    “I don’t know what else you would have been doing,” she lied. “I just know you weren’t with me.”
    “Maybe because you didn’t want me there. After all, you slept best when you were alone.”
    Shame had a bitter flavor, almost as metallic as blood. If she could call back those words, she would. She still remembered that night. He’d stayed over at the office for three days, then had come home early the next afternoon, scruffy but elated that a case had gone well. The partner in charge had commended him, then given him a couple of hours off.
    Cole had shown up with flowers and a bottle of champagne. In her mind they hadn’t been enough to make up for the days of neglect. When he’d tried to kiss her, she’d turned away. When he’d suggested a nap together, she’d coldly informed him she slept better alone.
    The words of rejection had hung between them, a line drawn in the sand. She’d wanted to take them back, to erase what had been said, but it was too late. His shuttered expression had told her all she’d needed to know. He wouldn’t expose his pain to someone he couldn’t trust.
    He’d never tried to make love with her again.
    Within the month, she’d left him.
    “I’m sorry,” she said simply, and forced herself to hold his hostile gaze. “I never meant to say that.”
    “What does it matter?” he asked wearily. “You thought it. That’s enough.”
    “But I didn’t. Not exactly.”
    “That’s just semantics, Elissa.” He shifted, placing both feet on the floor and facing front. He rested his elbows on his knees and clenched his hands tightly together.
    She stared at the stiffness of his back, at the way the T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. To think this strong, handsome man had once loved her and she’d thrown it all away. There were no words left to describe her regret.
    “We were both so young,” she said at last. “We both made mistakes. Marriage requires flexibility and maturity. I didn’t have either.”
    “You’ve become an expert?”
    She flinched at his sarcasm. “I’ve grown up. I’ve taken the time to observe other couples. I’m willing to take a good part of the blame.”
    “I suppose I should be happy you don’t want to hand it