The New Husband - D.J. Palmer Page 0,38

make it up to you. Dinner on me next time.”

“We don’t want your money, love. We just want your companionship. Tell Simon to feel better soon.”

Ginny didn’t sound overly sincere, but Nina thanked her friend for the good wishes nonetheless, and ended the call.

Yes, she had chosen Simon over her friends, Nina told herself, but these things happened. Cars broke down. Plans got canceled. Nina’s parents, who had been married forty years, had taught her how it was the small sacrifices, made over time, repeated over and over again, that ultimately determined the health of a marriage. Knowing that Simon would have gladly made those simple sacrifices for her somehow gave Nina confidence that he wouldn’t soon be taking up with his version of Teresa.

Going forward, trusting men would never be completely easy for Nina, but thank goodness Simon at least made it possible for her to try.

CHAPTER 17

Four hours later, Maggie was asleep. She and Nina had watched a movie together, some film with actors Maggie knew and adored but Nina had never heard of. They ate popcorn with too much butter, tried to keep Daisy from cleaning the floor of dropped kernels, and shared a couple laughs, but it was not light and breezy as usual. An invisible wall had come between them, and the reason for that wall was upstairs recuperating in bed.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” Nina had said after giving a goodnight kiss to her daughter, trying to coax out whatever it was that Maggie wasn’t sharing—some new feeling, a new issue, something she was holding on to the way Daisy would a bone.

“Sure, Mom,” Maggie said, sounding sure of nothing.

After lights out—and a text from Connor confirming that Luke’s mom was fine with him spending the night—Nina went to check on Simon again.

He looked well, much better than at her last checkup. The color had returned to his cheeks; his eyes no longer had the glassy look of sickness. He sat upright in bed, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and reading, of all things, one of her glamour rags. It was not a magazine she remembered buying, but that wasn’t so surprising. She had spent a good chunk of time this past year in a perpetual daze, and only now was she starting to feel like her former self. Thank you, therapy.

“Someone’s looking better,” Nina said, coming to the side of the bed. She touched his forehead, and it was the perfect temperature.

“I was hoping for a fast-moving bug,” said Simon, offering a relieved smile. “Maybe I was sick at the thought of not being with you.”

Nina returned a playful eye roll. “You do know how to flatter,” she replied as she plopped down on the bed beside him.

“Thanks for sticking around tonight, and sorry again about ruining your dinner plans.” Simon sounded genuinely remorseful. “I’m sure Maggie appreciated it as well.”

“She did for sure,” Nina said, deciding not to get into her concern that Maggie’s anger and resentment were building.

“Emma never would have put my needs above hers.”

Simon’s comment caught Nina by surprise, especially because he delivered that remark quite nonchalantly. He seldom talked about his dead wife, Emma Dolan, and the reference to her, made as a passing thought, left her momentarily speechless. She opted to change topics rather than delve into his past.

“What are you reading that for?” Nina gave the Vogue magazine a gentle poke to indicate the object of her curiosity.

“TV was giving me a headache, and I couldn’t concentrate on real reading,” Simon said.

Nina’s look of indignation was intended to amuse. “Hey, I know many ladies who would take offense at that remark.”

Simon flipped the magazine around and pointed to an article featuring a photograph of a pristine aqua blue sea. “And I take it back. Here’s a very well-written piece on great destination weddings.”

Simon said it slyly, implying that the content of the article, not the writing, is what piqued his interest. Nina crossed her arms as if in thought. “Are you asking me again, Mr. Fitch?”

Simon’s return volley was a cat-got-the-cream smile.

“I’m an extremely patient man,” he said, flipping the pages before he became keenly interested in something else. He turned the magazine around to show Nina a picture of a model, tall and thin, with porcelain skin and striking dark hair (close in color to Nina’s natural shade) cut in a medium-length bob, angled at the sides with mod-looking straight bangs. It was sleek and chic, textured in layers, a classic look that could have been

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