of the bed. He held the photograph of him and Kinsley in his hand and stared intently as he tapped it repeatedly into his open palm. The blare of the alarm clock broke the monotony, and he returned the picture to the table. His fingers outlined the edges with a delicate caress. With his next breath, he swatted the thing down again and left the room.
Once showered, he dressed and went downstairs for some breakfast: Wheaties, the preferred Breakfast of Champions and lonely, ditched men. Noticing a blinking voicemail alert, he picked up the phone. There was always the possibility it could be Kinsley. It was his mother.
“I drove by on my way to the hairdressers this morning. I noticed your car in the driveway. Your father and I are having dinner with the Ericson’s tonight at the club. Come by if you like. Drinks at seven-thirty, dinner’s at eight. Love you.”
He sifted through the pile of mail on the counter and ran his fingers over the umpteenth letter he’d written to Kinsley that had been stamped ‘Return to Sender.’ After putting the letter upstairs with the others, he set out for the office.
Before the second chirp that disarmed his car security system, he spotted Xavier’s limo as it slowly rolled to a stop in front of the driveway, effectively blocking his car in. He looked in the opposite direction, then turned back to face the limo and stood waiting. The tinted window on the driver’s side edged down as slowly as the car rolled up. The driver jerked his head directing him to get in. He set his briefcase on the hood of his Mercedes Z Series Roadster and got into the limo. He didn’t say anything and settled comfortably into the leather seat across from Xavier.
“We should talk Nick,” Xavier said.
“About?”
“Kinsley.”
“Kinsley? My marriage. My business. I’ll handle things my way.”
Xavier’s fist tensed against his thigh, and his jaw set tight leaving his words forced and pressured. “Your way is avoiding, which doesn’t work in business or in life. I gave you her post office box number. Finding her physical address would be simple.” He waited for a response. There was none. “It would make sense for a husband who loves his wife to do that. To fight to get her back.”
Nick stared at Xavier intently and then laughed. “I don’t fight for any woman. That’s where we differ. You have your persona. I have mine. You’re the rich iconic business mogul, the relatively faithful family man. I’m the playboy heir. Anything else and I’m Xavier Wentworth’s semi-successful son. I much prefer people to think of me as that lucky bastard who can bang any woman he pleases and has a beautiful wife and family to boot. The envy of men, the desire of women. Thanks to all your hard work, it’s been easy.”
“Your wife is gone.”
Nick grasped the door handle. “She’ll be back.”
Before he opened the door, Xavier reached over and rested his hand on top of his. “I’m not so sure she will be back, Nick. She needs to know you love her. A woman needs that from her husband. Money can’t compare to a woman knowing she’s loved.” Xavier lifted his hand, and Nick headed back to his car without responding.
~ ~ ~
Kinsley approached Dr. Pierce’s office with shoulders back and a poised smile, but continued to rest her hand on her queasy stomach. Doctors always made her feel uneasy. She knocked lightly on the opened door and stood there, trying to appear confident.
“Come in, come in.” Without looking up, the doctor continued to shuffle papers on the large mahogany desk. “Well, who do we have here? Mrs. Kinsley Wentworth.”
She took a few steps in and stood waiting.
Dr. Pierce looked up sharply and shook his head. “Well?—Sit down.” He motioned toward the two red leather chairs across from his desk and sat muttering, taking a moment to look over her chart.
Reluctantly, she walked around the first chair and sat down. While the doctor remained occupied, she drifted—thinking over her options. There weren’t many. She stared through the window beyond him at the small lake, which reflected the morning sun in the distance. Leaving Wayde would be her first priority. After that, she’d get Max back to New York to be closer to his father. If she could patch their family back together, all the better. Her plan sounded very rational and orderly, but in recent months, she had gradually traded hope for despair.
“You came in by