Eligible Ex-husband - Marie Johnston Page 0,15

absorbed in his career.

“Isn’t she married?”

“That doesn’t always stop people.”

Dad shrugs. “Simon never struck me as that kind of guy. Besides, if he was interested in doing, you know, that, he wouldn’t have hired Charlie. I’m sure plenty of attractive young women applied.”

“Charlie’s still attractive.”

“And not Simon’s type.”

I can’t deny that I worried about who Simon would surround himself with at work. Not everyone applying to work with him would be interested solely in professional development. Simon’s my age and when we were married, even during the times I was so frustrated with him I could hardly stand to look at him, I couldn’t deny him in bed. He got what he wanted and he wanted it a lot. And no matter how conflicted my mind was about him, about us, my body never doubted how good, how cherished, he’d make me feel.

The thought that he’d move on and do that for someone else kept me awake too many nights over the last seven months.

“He hasn’t changed.” I’m done with this conversation. It doesn’t help to know that my parents would support a reconciliation. “The company comes first. The company always comes first.”

“Maybe when he goes back to work, he’ll realize everything he’s been missing.”

“He’s had seven months to do that.” More if you counted when we separated those couple of months before the divorce was final.

I know Simon better than anyone. It’s why I’d called the divorce attorney. Simon’s single-minded. A handsome guy like him never quits getting hit on just because he wears a wedding ring. But he was focused on me. A heady experience for a girl who drifted through life never standing out.

The company came and it was our priority. Then the girls got older and my priorities shifted. Liam died and Simon’s priorities shifted. I lost my husband, my partner.

His single-minded focus is growing that company to something his big brother would’ve boasted about at country clubs across the nation. Liam’s company was a whopping success and Simon’s determined to outdo him ten times over.

I can’t compete against a dead man.

Simon

I lie awake and stare at the ceiling. It’s one of the only mornings I don’t wake up with a kid in bed. Somehow, they remember in the dark of night that I’m across the hall and find me instead of trekking across the house to Natalie’s bed.

It’s also one of the few mornings I don’t have a ton of messages from Helena. Apparently, Graham pulling out of the companies I invested with left my clients panicking that something’s wrong with my choices. Helena’s had her hands full the last few days. It wasn’t like I could tell them that the guy hated my brother and was toying with me, or something like that.

I still haven’t figured it out.

I let out a long breath. The house is quiet, but I’m sure Natalie is in the office. Every night I’ve gone to bed harder than I’d ever been. I have to lock myself in the shower and stealth jack off after bedtime. I switched to nighttime showers so I don’t have to worry about the kids pounding on the door to ask for their eighth snack of the morning or yelling about a show they can’t agree on.

Natalie spends her mornings in the office, listening to training courses and setting up her business. I want to ask her more about it, but she deflects me every time. I get the impression she assumes I’ll think it’s lame. I’m proud as hell of her.

I swing my legs down and rub my eyes. After getting dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt, I go to the bathroom. I take an extra minute to finger comb my hair after I brush my teeth. I should get a trim but for once it’s nice to be casual from head to toe. I skip shaving. Again. My morning routine is shot to hell and that alone feels like more of a vacation than our trip to Niagara Falls for our honeymoon.

I head downstairs and tell myself to keep going to the kitchen and start breakfast, but I go straight for the office. Tapping lightly on the door, I don’t hear anything. Taking a chance, I open it.

Natalie looks at me, then whips her head back to the computer screen, but not before I see her glistening eyes.

I cross to her and drop to my knees. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffles and sighs, accepting that I caught her crying and I’m not leaving.