WITH each passing day of complete silence from Chessy, Tate grew more and more despondent. Every day meant further loss of hope. But he still had his trump card. One he’d moved on very quickly; he planned to force a confrontation between himself and Chessy so he could prove to her that she was first and foremost in his priorities.
He’d agreed to a partnership with the two other financial advisors, splitting the client load equally three ways. Effective the next day, Morgan Financial Services would become Morgan, Hogan and Letterman Financial. Or MHL.
He’d thrown everything he had into getting it lined up as quickly as possible. It wasn’t as though he was sleeping nights anyway, so he’d stayed up, working on contracts and the legalities, all the fine print of the newly formed partnership.
It was done. It would be official tomorrow but he wanted Chessy to hear it from him directly. Tonight. Before the news broke the next day. The question was how to get to her? Jensen had appointed himself her bodyguard, never allowing Tate past the doorway. Chessy wasn’t answering his texts or his voicemails. And there was a giant wall of silence between him and those who used to be his friends—Dash, Joss and Kylie. Jensen he hadn’t known for that long, but the others? He considered them his closest friends, but they’d made their choice. Not that he begrudged Chessy their friendship, but he missed them. Not only had he lost his wife but he’d also lost their friends.
His cell rang and he froze. His hands shook as he fumbled to get the phone from the holder secured to his pants. God, it was Chessy’s ringtone. She was calling him!
He swore when he couldn’t get it out right away. The very last thing he wanted was to miss her call. She may not ever call back.
“Chessy, thank God,” he said when he finally was able to answer.
“Tate?”
Her quivery voice made his blood run cold. It sounded as though she’d been crying.
“Chessy, what’s wrong?” he demanded. “Are you hurt? Tell me where you are and I’ll be right there.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice was still shaking. “I wanted to know if you could meet me tonight. At our—your—house. Somewhere private.”
His thoughts scattered in a dozen different directions. Could he meet her tonight? Hell, he’d move heaven and earth to meet her any damn where she wanted. But it was the somewhere private part that bothered him. As if she had something important to tell him. Was this going to be when she told him she wanted to end their marriage and have him served with divorce papers? Or dare he hope she would agree to a reconciliation and come back home to him?
But regardless of the purpose, she’d be here. In their house where she belonged. That stood for something. Because once she walked in here, she was home. She’d be on his turf and she wouldn’t have Jensen between her and him. No, it would be just Chessy and Tate, exactly as she requested. Definitely private.
“Unless you have work stuff,” Chessy mumbled. “We can always do it another time.”
He winced but he deserved that shot. “Tonight is fine. Absolutely come to the house. I’ll cook dinner for us and we can talk. There’s a hell of a lot you don’t know about yet that will be released tomorrow but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I had fully intended to drive over to Kylie and Jensen’s and pull you out by the hair to take you back home with me so I could discuss the changes I’ve made. Changes I hope you’ll be completely on board with.”
“So it sounds as though we’ll both be doing a lot of talking,” she mused.
“I’ll listen to every subject you want to bring up. Then, only when you’re satisfied with my responses, will we move on to what I want to discuss with you. It’s a pretty big step. I have the backing and investors.”
“Do I get a choice in the order in which we say what?”
Tate could hear the clear nervousness in her voice and she sounded as though she wanted him to speak his mind first before delving into what might bring her back to him after their long separation.
“Absolutely,” he conceded.
“Okay, then listen up.”
A ridiculous smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. He was already mentally going through the contents of their pantry and fridge so he’d know if he needed to run out for anything. He was positive he had all the ingredients on hand to make one of their favorite dishes.
“You’re going first while we eat dinner. After and only after you’ve said what’s on your mind will I tell you what’s on mine.”
Dinner was already beginning to look like one huge clusterfuck. How did one cook a meal that acted as an olive branch? And to make it the good start to try to salvage their marriage? But was that what it was going to be? Or was Chessy going to tell him it was well and truly over?
“What time do you want me there?” Chessy asked quietly, not sounding certain that she would be welcome.
Tate nearly lost his shit over that but made a visible effort to relax so he didn’t come across sounding like an asshole. But there were some things that needed to be addressed.
“Baby, you do not have to ask what time it’s okay for you to come to your own house. I don’t plan to start cooking until you get here. I thought you could sit at the island and ride herd while I try not to ruin our supper.”
This time he heard the smile in his voice and he ached all the way to his soul for one smile, directed at him. Her looking at him like he’d hung the moon. It was the way she used to look at him. Pure adoration that was there for the world to see. She was a magnet for people. They were inexplicably drawn to her just to gain a smile or a few sweet words. Men and women alike walked away as if they had just been in the presence of royalty. And well, she was in a way. She was his princess.
He’d done everything to outfit the princess, to transform her into a woman who never had need of a single item. Her credit card had no limit and he encouraged her frequently to go out and buy something for herself. She was infuriating in that regard because she always had the same answer. She didn’t need anything. Tate gave her everything she wanted. How he’d loved hearing those heartfelt words come from his wife’s sweet lips. What man wouldn’t be absolutely agog over the fact that his woman gave not one damn over wealth or material possessions. What she wanted above all was … her husband. And that should have been the easiest slam dunk of all.
All he had to do was give her his undivided attention. Thinking back, yes, he’d desperately wanted to net this client because she was also entertaining other options. It was what had prevented him from giving Chessy what she deserved.
Tabitha Markham would indeed have been a coup. He had no doubt that she was being courted, wined and dined by other financial businesses like a duck on a June bug. But he had practically told her to fuck off once he heard Chessy scream in pain and terror. And he couldn’t care less which financial advisor she decided to go with now. If he lived to be a hundred, the sound of Chessy’s cry would haunt him to his dying day.
“I should let you go then. I still need to shower and change. I haven’t been feeling well lately and unfortunately it shows.”
Tate was immediately filled with concern. “Is my girl sick? Who’s taking care of you? That’s my job.”
It angered him, this helplessness that he couldn’t reach out to his wife when she needed him most. Chessy didn’t fall ill very often at all. She always got glowing checkups from her doctor, who announced she was fitter than the majority of patients he saw.
But the few times a cold had gotten the best of her and one particularly vicious bout of strep throat, Tate had been within an arm’s length the entire time. She’d wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom because she was afraid she would make him sick, but he was having none of that.
Every single night, or day if she were simply taking a nap, he carried her to bed and tucked her in, ensuring all the pillows were in the exact position she liked them. And even more generous, he handed over the remote for the TV in their bedroom.
While she binged on the HGTV channel and watched countless renovation episodes, Tate’s head was always about to explode, but he let her torture him with her girly shows because he knew how much she enjoyed them.
She sounded extremely weary now and it alarmed him even more. So help him, if she didn’t show tonight now that he was worried out of his damn mind, he’d go over there and haul her out of Jensen’s house, police be damned.
“I’ll tell you all about it tonight,” she said. “I don’t want to get into over the phone.”
Tate’s heart lurched. His stomach knotted to the point of pain and nausea welled in his throat. He had to suck in deeply through his nostrils so he didn’t completely lose it.
“How soon can you be here?” he demanded.
“Uh, well I don’t have anything else scheduled. I mean I guess I could come at any time. I figured I’d come when you were ready to eat.”
Tate checked his watch. It was five. Certainly not out of the realm for preparing dinner. By the time Chessy drove over and they settled into the kitchen and he started preparations it would be six. Perfect timing.
“Can you head over now?” he asked, trying to keep his enthusiasm at bay and sound normal even though when it came to Chessy, anything at all to do with Chessy, normal wasn’t part of his vocabulary for sure.
He couldn’t wait to finally see Chessy one-on-one for the first time since the night she’d walked out, when she had been devastated and so damn fragile looking. As though she’d break if someone stared at her too hard. And yet he had let a brute of a man put his precious girl through the paces, warming her up for when Tate would have taken over.
Chessy could have been seriously injured. For all practical purposes she had been raped. Just because the bastard hadn’t fully penetrated her didn’t mean he hadn’t forced himself on her, even as she was screaming her safe word.
To still his restless mind and whirling thoughts, he began to prepare the crepes while he waited for her answer. In theory this recipe was damn good. But it was all in the execution. And Tate wasn’t one to ever follow the letter of a recipe. He always improvised, adding stuff he liked and experimenting until he got the flavor he wanted. He and Chessy had always taken turns being the guinea pig and then they’d offer constructive criticism. Not enough Cajun seasoning. Too much black pepper. The lobster and crab smelled and tasted too “fishy.”
There was no modesty from him when it came to this dish. He and Chessy could make themselves sick on it, eating way beyond the point where they were already full. It was always “Oh, I’ll just have one more bite,” and then a moan of pleasure followed by another bite and another … Until they groaned in agony and flopped onto the couch in a vegetative state and watched mindless reality shows to get their minds off their miserably full stomachs.
“Yes,” Chessy said finally. Was there a hint of excitement in her voice or was he simply hearing what he wanted. If she had missed him only half as much as he was missing her, then he had a shot. “I’ll leave in a few minutes after I shower and change. If I wait any longer, someone will want to take me, and as I said, I’d rather not have an audience for what I want to talk about.”
Again that tendril of dread curled tighter and tighter around his neck. “Tell me at least that you’re okay. That there’s nothing seriously wrong with you. Don’t leave me to my worst imaginings, Chess. You’ve got me scared shitless.”
“I’m fine, Tate. Truly. It’s just … complicated, which is why I wanted to say it face-to-face.”
Whatever got her back home where she belonged, even if it was only for a short time, worked for him.
“Okay then. Head this way. I’m putting together supper now.”