“Emmy, wait!” Nick shouted, but I didn’t stop jogging toward my Jeep.
Just as I reached for the door handle, his hand grabbed my elbow and spun me around.
“Don’t,” I said, jerking my arm free. The night was pitch black except for the lights coming from the house and garage. But even the dark couldn’t dim the light shining from his eyes.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “What are you doing here, Emmy?”
“Emmeline,” I corrected. He was the only person who had ever called me anything but my full name, and as much as I had loved it all those years ago, hearing it now was painful.
He frowned. “Emmy. What are you doing here?”
“I live here. What are you doing here?”
“I live here. Have for years.”
I swallowed an exasperated laugh. What were the chances? Of all the small towns in America, I had moved to the same one where my long-lost husband lived. A husband my private investigator had spent nine years unsuccessfully searching for.
Years had gone by and all I’d ever gotten were reports stating Nick’s whereabouts were unknown. A paid professional couldn’t find him but, here I was, standing in his space because I happened to pick Prescott as my home.
Shit.
Nick stared down at me, unspeaking. I was so shocked to see his face I didn’t know where to start or what to say. Apparently, he was having the same problem. Twice he opened his mouth to say something but then clamped it shut before words came out.
“Emmy—” he finally started but my ringing phone cut him off.
Scrambling to find it in my bag, I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hi, darling,” I told Logan. “Can you hold on one second?” I pinched the phone between my ear and shoulder, opening the car door to climb inside.
“We need to talk,” Nick said, reaching out his hand.
I flinched right before his fingers could touch me. I glared and shook my head furiously. He frowned but didn’t push.
My conversation with Nick was over for the night. I needed to regroup and get my head together before we had a discussion. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.
Not tonight.
“Emmeline,” Logan called after I slammed the car door.
“Sorry. I’m here,” I said, backing out of the gravel lot, seeing Nick sidestep my car.
“Where are you?” Logan asked.
“I was at a Halloween party.”
“Did you have a good time?” A hint of disdain colored his voice. He was probably mad at the idea of me going to parties and making friends here in Prescott. Friends meant I was building a life here. Something he did not want.
My gaze traveled to Nick in my rearview mirror. He stood in the middle of the drive, legs planted wide with his arms crossed over his chest.
“No. I didn’t have a good time.”
I stood by my dark bedroom window, staring out into the black night.
The Montana nights were remarkably different from those in New York. Though, the same was true about almost every aspect of my life here in Prescott.
In the city, it was never really dark. Somewhere a light from a building or street lamp illuminated the shadows. But here there were no lights. Nothing interrupted the blackness.
Some people may have found it a bit frightening, but I loved that I could see up into the starry sky. I’d never known there were so many stars. My first night in Prescott, I’d stood outside for an hour, gazing up into the Milky Way.
But tonight, all the stars in the universe couldn’t light the blackness.
Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Nick tonight. The emotion was crippling.
I vaguely recalled my short conversation with Logan as I had sped home from the farmhouse. I had given him a quick account of the Clearys’ party but hadn’t mentioned Nick. I wasn’t ready to discuss the subject with Logan yet. First, I needed to get my own head wrapped around the concept.
Logan knew I had been married but he didn’t know any of the details. He also didn’t know that I was still legally bound to another man. That fact was not going to go over well.
What was I going to do?
Swiping my phone from an end table, I pulled up my friend’s number.
“Hey!” Steffie answered. “Meet any hot cowboys yet?”
I laughed. She knew I was in a committed relationship with Logan but that didn’t stop her from wanting me to find a mountain man to climb. Steffie was quite open with her sexuality. In college, her antics had been amusing and . . . enlightening. When she’d started dating my father, I had told her in no uncertain terms to never bring up her sex life to me again.
“No cowboys, though I did run into my husband.” I held the phone away from my ear, waiting for the shriek I knew was coming.
“What!” she shouted. “You’re fucking kidding me!”
“Not kidding.” For the next ten minutes, I filled her in on the details from the party and how I had reacted to seeing Nick.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I sighed. “I don’t know. I have to tell Logan all the details even though he’s going to be so angry. But keeping it from him feels like a betrayal.” I had only given Logan a vague account of my marriage, blaming my decision on youth and alcohol. No one but Steffie ever knew the truth about that night and why I’d married Nick: that I’d fallen in love with him in only five hours.
“Yeah, Logan’s going to flip. So is Trent.”
I winced at the mention of my father. “I know this isn’t fair of me to ask, but please don’t tell him. Not yet. I’m not ready to deal with him.”
“I get it. Consider my lips sealed.”
I didn’t have a loving father-daughter relationship, but even with my father being her boyfriend, she never wasted effort pushing for us to get closer.
Trent Austin had never had any interest in his daughter. I wished I could pinpoint when it had started, identify that trigger and fill in the missing pieces, but as far back as I could remember, he just . . . didn’t like me. He tolerated my brother, Ethan, and at times made some effort in his son’s case. But I had never been much more than just another person living in his house.
After I was born, his marriage to my mother had started to deteriorate. Maybe he blamed me, instead of himself, for chasing her into the arms of another man. Regardless of the reason, my father and I had never been close.
And I had never been quite good enough.
It was only a couple of years ago that I’d finally stopped trying to meet his unreachable standards.
It was acceptable for him to parade around with younger women and for my brother to get divorce after divorce, but being embarrassed by his daughter was deplorable. My marriage was an embarrassment of unfathomable proportions.
On the flight home from Las Vegas, I had debated not telling my father about my marriage. Had I not needed to discuss my divorce options with his attorney, I would have kept Nick a secret. As it was, an Austin marriage without a prenuptial agreement put our family at financial risk and I’d been forced to have an extremely unpleasant conversation with my parents.
I had disparaged our family’s reputation by acting like a stupid whore, those having been his exact words.
At the time, he had been screwing his twenty-two-year-old secretary.
“So? What are you going to do about Nick?” Steffie asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I don’t know. Go back in time and not be so stupid?”
Not fall in love.
Was it love? Nine years was a long time to dissect every bit of one night, but in all that time, I still couldn’t come up with the right answer. Deep down, a part of me still believed that my connection to Nick had been real and he must have had good reason to leave.
“It’s been a long time. Talk to him. Go from there,” Steffie said.
“You’re right. I’ll take a few days to pull myself together and then approach. Thanks. And thank you for not mentioning this to Father.”
“Chicks before dicks.”
I rolled my eyes before laughing.
“What are you going to tell Logan?” she asked.
“The truth,” I said. “He deserves the full story. But before I do anything, I need a plan and I need to talk to my attorney about a divorce.”
“Good idea. Logan will take it much better if he knows you’ve just been waiting to find Nick so you could settle the divorce.”
I hoped she was right and that after Logan learned I was still legally tied to Nick, he wouldn’t be too mad. That maybe he’d understand why I had refused his two proposals.
I hadn’t denied him because I didn’t love him. I just wasn’t free yet. A part of my heart still belonged to Nick and I couldn’t marry Logan until I had taken it back.
“Thanks for listening,” I said.
“That’s what I’m here for. And to give your dad—”
“Stop. Immediately,” I interrupted.
“You’re no fun anymore.” She laughed. “Keep me posted.”
“I will. Bye.”
I stared into the black night, processing everything that had happened tonight. Thinking about everything that had happened back then.
Tossing my phone on my bed, I walked to my dresser and pulled out the small box I had kept hidden behind my underwear for years, its sole purpose to hold two rings, a tattered photo and a CD.
I went for the ring first, slipping it on my index finger and twirling it around like I had so many times. Never once had I put it back on the intended finger.
Next I went to the photo.
There was no light in my bedroom but it didn’t matter. I could see the picture as if it were day.
Nick and I were in profile under the chapel’s pergola. The officiant had just stepped away to give us a private minute. It was the moment Nick had hoisted me up with his big arms wrapped around my lower back and hips. My heeled feet had dangled in the air and my fingers had been threaded through the hair at the back of his neck. Our foreheads rested together and we both had huge smiles spread across our faces.
Then, love had been written on my face.
Now, it was wrecked with tears and anguish.
Five minutes spent in Nick’s presence had cracked open the gashes in my heart that I’d spent years stitching together.
If Nick’s life was in Prescott, I couldn’t stay here. But I wasn’t leaving until I had some answers to the questions swirling in my head. Questions I’d asked myself over and over again. Somehow, I would find the strength to ask Nick why.
Why had he left me that morning? Had our night together meant so little to him that he could leave me behind, never bothering to look back? Why hadn’t he found me for a divorce or an annulment?
My nose started to sting as tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Nick was responsible for rivers of my tears. Tears over the crushing disappointment that I’d been so wrong about him. Tears because everything he’d told me that night had been a lie.
I inhaled a ragged breath, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I wish I didn’t feel like this,” I told his picture. “I wish that you looked different. Not like the man I’ve been imagining for years. I wish you weren’t real and that it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
Mostly, I wished that I could just let him go.
“Emmeline, I’m sorry but there isn’t much else we can do.”
“I just don’t understand. Why can’t we get the divorce papers drafted this week?” I asked Fred Andrews, my family’s attorney. I had called him first thing on Monday morning before heading into work.
“Like I’ve told you, we’re in a precarious position here. My advice is to proceed with caution, and that will take some time. At a minimum, a month. I know you’d like to have this done as quickly as possible but rushing a divorce at this point may position you and your family for an unjust financial claim.”
“How can that be? I haven’t seen Nick in nine years.”
“Correct, but during your marriage your trust fund limitation expired and all of the money from your grandparents was fully released. He could claim a portion of those funds with no prenuptial agreement in place before your union.”
“That is ridiculous, Fred,” I scoffed. “We were together for less than twenty-four hours.”
“True. And if this does get taken to court, I doubt any judge would rule in his favor. But I need time to draft the appropriate papers. I could have processed an annulment within a week. A divorce settlement that ensures your assets are protected will be much more involved.”
“Okay,” I said. “Is there anything I should be doing while you work on the papers?”
“There’s nothing else for you to do. You might get some unwanted publicity, even with you no longer living in the city, but I doubt it. I’ll notify you and your father before the settlement is filed, as this work will go against his retainer fees.”
“No. Please bill me directly. Thank you, Fred,” I told him before we said our good-byes and ended the call.
I let my head fall into my hands as I sagged in my desk chair. “Stubborn and stupid,” I muttered to the empty classroom.
Years ago, Fred had told me that he could have my marriage to Nick dissolved on the grounds of abandonment.
Had I listened?
No.
Because I had been stubborn and stupid.
I had been too angry and upset to let Nick off the hook so easily. I had insisted that my private investigator would track Nick down in no time and I’d get the chance to look him in the eyes and watch as he explained why he’d lied and left.
Desperate for closure, I’d refused to get divorced until I got my explanation.
I’d had no idea that Nick Slater would be a ghost, impossible to find. That my stubborn streak would run so deep that, years later, I would still not have gone through with the divorce.
Now, looking back, I should have swallowed my pride and forgotten the idea of a standoff with Nick.
I should have gotten my divorce.
“Okay, class. That’s the lunch bell. You can all get your coats for recess and walk to the cafeteria.”
Shouts of glee filled the classroom as fourteen five-year-old kids rushed into the hallway.
We had just finished the story circle and I was shelving books, thinking about how much I was going to miss the kids and my classroom when I left Prescott.
I had no idea where I would move but with Nick living here, I couldn’t stay.
The idea of disappointing my colleagues and abandoning my students gave me a sharp stomachache but the thought of running into Nick on a regular basis, or seeing him with another woman, felt even worse.
Was he with someone now? Did he have kids? Just the thought sent my heart into my stomach. I needed to get away from here before he ripped me to shreds. Maybe I could make it through to summer and finish up the school year. If I lived as a hermit, sticking close to the school and home, I could probably avoid seeing Nick.
Lost in thought, I jumped when a rumbling voice sounded in the room.
“Emmy?”
Avoiding Nick was going to get really hard if he barged into my classroom.
I drew in a labored breath before spinning around, my eyes raking him from head to toe. He was as gorgeous as ever. Not much had changed about him over the years. His beard was a bit shorter and he had more muscle on his frame.
“Emmeline,” I corrected. “What are you doing here, Nick?”
“I told you Friday. We need to talk.”
“I’m not ready to talk yet.”
“Nine years wasn’t enough time to think of something to say?”
I winced at his joke. “Is that supposed to be funny? Because it’s not.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. He looked me up and down. “Fuck, Emmy. Is that what you wear every day?”
I dropped my chin to inspect my clothing. What was wrong with this outfit?
I wore wide-leg black pants with patent nude pumps and a cream blouse with a mandarin collar. Because the blouse was sheer, underneath was a lace-trimmed camisole. At my wrist was the rose-gold, oversized Chanel watch my mother had given me for Christmas the previous year.
I wore this type of clothing almost every day. It was classy and professional, exactly the image I wanted to portray as a teacher. Nothing about my clothing was inappropriate for a kindergarten setting, though it may have been a bit dressy for rural Montana.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing. You just look beautiful,” he said.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Please don’t say things like that to me.”
“I can’t give you a compliment?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“Emmy,” he said softly. “We need to talk about us.”
“Emmeline. And there is no us. Even if there were, we are not talking here,” I said and sat behind my desk.
I did everything I could to avert my eyes. It was too hard to look at him. First, I busied myself by organizing pens. Then I restacked the papers on top of my desk. Lastly, I grabbed my coffee mug and gave it a thorough inspection.
I was obsessed with clever mugs and over the years I had collected many. Today’s was a simple white mug that said “Oh for fox’s sake,” but instead of the word “fox” there was a cartoon fox wearing reading glasses.
“Emmy,” Nick said. “Will you fucking look at me?”
“No,” I told my mug.
Two hands slapped down on top of my desk. “We’re talking. Now.”
“No,” I snapped and shot out of my chair. “We are going to talk when I’m ready. This time around we’re going to do things my way. On my timeline. And right now, I need to get some lunch so I can be ready when my kids get back to class. I will not get into this with you. I need to speak to my attorney about our interactions, and depending on his advice, I will consider talking to you at a later date.”
“Your attorney?” he asked. “Why do you need to talk to your fucking attorney before having a conversation with me?”
“Stop cursing. You’re in a school full of impressionable children.”
“Answer the fucking question.”
I crossed both arms over my chest. “My attorney is getting the ball rolling on our divorce proceedings. I need to find out if he thinks we should limit our interactions to those supervised by legal counsel.” I had forgotten to ask Fred that this morning, mostly because I wasn’t sure which answer I wanted him to give me.
Nick leaned away from the desk and blinked a couple of times. “Divorce?”
How was this a surprise to him? What did he think would happen? “Yes. Absolutely. Now that I’ve located you, we can officially end our marriage. And when this disaster is finally over, there will be no reason for you to think we need to talk or ever see one another again.”
“No. No divorce. Abso-fucking-lutely not.” All of the shock on his face was instantly replaced with anger.
This time it was my turn to be shocked. “I hate that saying! And what do you mean ‘no’? I haven’t laid eyes on you in over nine years. You left me the night of our wedding after you spent hours lying through your teeth. I’ve been together with another man for five years. On what planet do you actually think our relationship resembles a marriage worth keeping? So yes. We are getting divorced. As soon as my attorney has a chance to draft the papers.”
“I never lied to you, Emmy,” he said gently.
“I asked you if we were going to make it work and you said we were. That was a lie. I deserve an explanation from you and you’re going to give it to me. But not right now. When I’m ready to talk, you’ll be the first to know. Then after I’ve gotten my answers, I’ll finally be free of you. Now, you can leave.”
“Dinner.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dinner. You want answers, you can have them over dinner. Tonight.”
“I am not eating with you,” I said through gritted teeth. “My timeline. Remember?”
“And I don’t give a fuck about your timeline. We’re eating tonight. You want answers. You’ll get them. And I won’t be waiting for legal counsel.”
“Fine,” I clipped.
“I’ll pick you up here at five,” he said, turning to walk out of the room.
“No,” I said to his back. “I’ll drive myself. Where shall I meet you?”
He grumbled something under his breath before answering. “The Black Bull Steakhouse.”
“Fine. I’ll be there at six.”
He didn’t say anything else as he strode through the door.
I scoffed. At least this time, I got to watch him leave.
And tonight, I would finally get my answers.