her. Her foot twitched, remembering that brief connection with Teague. Maybe she should have asked him to stay. Start that new life with a bang.
The stupid pun made her groan.
Over her own low-throated sound she heard another knock on the door. Her heart lurched. He'd come back!
Tess couldn't pretend she wasn't home. She also couldn't pretend that her pulse wasn't racing at a chance for...another bite of the apple.
Oh, God, she was full of wordplay tonight.
And nerves.
Her palms were so wet, her hand slipped on the doorknob. When she opened it, her breath caught.
Not Teague, but David. Her husband, David, carrying a carton, one of those portable file boxes. "I have something to show you," he said.
She couldn't help but compare him to her other visitor of the evening. Instead of being casually dressed, David appeared to have come straight from the office. His shirt was white, his slacks pale taupe, he wore the loafers she'd had resoled six weeks ago. She'd given him the paisley tie for his birthday. When everything had changed.
"Can I come in?"
She moved aside and watched, bemused, as he transferred the framed photograph to a corner of the coffee table, then removed file folders from the box. His long-fingered hands laid them on the flat surface, one after the other, until they were all on display. With a satisfied air, he stepped back.
Curiosity piqued, she came closer, trying to understand the point of his exhibit. It wasn't immediately apparent, and he didn't immediately offer up an explanation.
She glanced at his profile. He had a strong, masculine nose, and his lips were set in a serious line. There was a shadow of whiskers along his jaw that her fingers suddenly itched to stroke. His short hair was ruffled on top, and she knew he'd been forking his fingers through it, a gesture he made when he was in deep concentration or worried.
They stood without speaking, and she listened to him breathe, one of the dearest rhythms of her life. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as a heavy understanding settled over her. Familiar didn't equal dull, she thought. New and different was not that big a draw.
At least not for her.
"What's all this?" she finally asked, gesturing at the folders.
"I wanted you to look over our financials," he said.
Her heart seized for a moment, then restarted at a dizzying pace. Look over their financials! That sounded like predivorce business. Though...maybe not. One of her friends had been given the divorce talk by her husband - but only after the bastard had siphoned off most of their accounts.
David wouldn't do it like that, she assured herself. If she and David divorced, he would be excruciatingly fair.
If she and David divorced... There would be dates. A different man.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "I'm looking them over," she said, her voice weary. "What about the financials should I be seeing?"
He took a seat on the sofa and tapped a finger on the front of each manila folder. "Statements for all our bank accounts. Your 401(k), my 401(k). College funds for the kids. Current mortgage statement. I had the house appraised yesterday and this is the report. We own the cars outright, but I have estimates for their value in this file. See? I've labeled it Big-Ticket Items."
She stared at him. "What, no credit report?"
He slid out a folder from under another. "Right here."
A few years back, new neighbors had moved in, and she and David had invited them to their New Year's Eve party. The husband of the couple insisted on a midnight tradition: "Throw all the change in your pockets onto the street!" It was supposed to bring good fortune for the coming year, according to the man.
David had gone along with a smile.
Before breakfast the next morning, he'd re-collected every coin.
At least some things about him hadn't changed - he was still careful about each penny. Looking into the face of the man she'd loved and married, while remembering that New Year's, made her sure of something else that was unchanged as well.
Tess herself was still the same. I still love my husband, my life as his partner. My work as the mother of our children. That was what she wanted. The knowledge of it settled in her chest, a puzzle piece being reseated where it belonged. She could move away from the house she and David shared together, but that didn't mean she could leave behind her love for him.