The New Husband - D.J. Palmer Page 0,82

permanent archiving on the Web. Thinking about Simon’s parents made Nina think of hers as well. Maybe she should book a trip to Nebraska, go visit Nonni and Papa for a while, head there for Thanksgiving. Her mother couldn’t travel because of a hip problem that was going to be fixed with a full replacement, but Nina could go to them.

Maggie would love it, and Connor had a break between football and basketball seasons. It was disconcerting to realize the plan she’d formed in her head did not immediately include Simon. Because it would be hard on Maggie, Nina told herself, and because her father, who had adored Glen, hadn’t yet warmed to the new man in her life.

Because you’re not safe, Hugh’s voice told Nina. Your dad knows it. Parents have an instinct for this sort of thing.

Pictures, if I only had pictures of Emma, thought Nina.

Whatever photographs there’d been of Allison had been turned to ash. Perhaps photos of Emma and Simon together would reveal something hidden about him.

But there were no photographs, nothing from Simon’s past to ground her, nothing to give shape to his history. All Nina had to go on was the life they had made together. Nina reflected briefly on her time with Simon—his courtship that had begun with his finding Daisy, which had led to dinner out, and then to a moonlight beach walk, a kiss at the lake, and eventually his touching proposal, which she had declined, but with a promise that it wouldn’t be long—a promise she fully intended to keep. That’s how life worked, Nina believed. That’s how things happened. It was random. She recognized that most moments were out of her control. She didn’t know that she’d fall for the teacher when he brought Daisy home, just as she didn’t know the father of her children would turn out to be a complete stranger.

And in the world of random happenings, how likely was it that lightning had struck her twice? What was the possibility that she’d realized her greatest fear and made another terrible choice in a man? It was inconceivable, that’s what it was. Statistically, it would have to have about the same probability as winning Powerball.

But people win Powerball, Nina.

The little voice in her head was speaking up again.

Nobody is guaranteed a happily ever after. Nobody.

“Shut up,” Nina said to the voice, and returned to her search.

Nina typed Emma Dolan’s name into the Google search field. She’d done this before, but for some reason she hoped there’d be a picture of her in one of the online obituaries. Again, no such luck.

Nina opened a new browser window and popped over to LinkedIn, which had nothing to offer her, before checking Hugh Dolan’s Facebook page again. She thought maybe he’d been friends with Emma and her profile existed in memoriam, but Emma was a ghost in this world and online. Nina’s gaze traveled upward, where she noticed her Facebook Messenger icon indicated a new message.

She was about to click it when she heard a sound, a soft creak on the stairs. Her hand hovered over the icon. It could be Maggie or Connor, coming down for some reason, but it could also be Simon.

Why are you afraid? Nina asked herself.

But she knew the answer: she was looking into Simon’s life without his knowledge.

Simon’s words came back to her: “We can’t keep secrets from each other, Nina. It’s not healthy for a marriage.”

Still, her curiosity won out, and she clicked the icon, not caring that those footsteps were growing louder. She held her breath, her hands shaking, pulse quickening, as she read the message from Hugh.

Are you ready to talk yet? The offer stands at $500. You’re not safe.

The footsteps were getting closer.

“Nina?”

It was Simon’s voice. He appeared in the doorway, holding the phone he was using as a flashlight.

“What are you doing sitting down here in the dark?”

But it wasn’t dark. Her laptop was on, her face alight with a bluish glow. Nina felt his eyes on her, taking in what he saw, assessing her, or so it seemed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nina said groggily, hoping she wasn’t overacting. She was more alert than if she’d downed an espresso with a Red Bull chaser. She closed the browser window containing her Facebook page as Hugh’s message flashed in her mind: The offer stands at $500 …

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

As Simon walked over and put his arms around Nina, she realized there was a second browser window still open with Emma

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