Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
“I have waited for years to be with you. You can’t just...”
“You waited?” Violet arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but while you were ‘waiting’ you married and had a son.”
“Some of us didn’t have the world at our feet, Violet,” he spat. “I did what I had to do. I told you about Mr. Harris. He offered me a future, and it included his daughter. He made that clear.”
“So what does that make you?” She glared at him.
“What did marrying Tolly make you? Is marrying for money any different than marrying for a career? Are you going to tell me you loved him? Some worn out old man with a mansion and a country club membership?”
“You know nothing about Tolly and me. Nothing. You don’t know what I went through, Chet. There are things I never told anyone.” Violet threw her hands up. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I know he’s gone and we have a chance to be happy together. I know you love me. I also know you want me with every cell in your body. You gonna deny that? Violet?” He traced his hand along her cheek. “You and I are meant for each other.”
Violet shook her head and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Chet. I thought I could. I can’t. We have to end this.”
“Why the hell are we here, Violet?” He jumped up and began dressing. “Why the fuck did we take this trip?” He waved his hands around the room. “Look around! We’re in an elegant hotel room paid for by your late husband’s generosity. Thanks, Tolly, sure appreciate your dying so we could frolic in California for a week or two and make some memories...”
Violet flinched and covered her ears. “Shut up! That’s the most vile, hateful thing for you to say, Chet. You know I love you. I can’t help it if I have a conscience. Obviously it’s different for you.”
“I’ll tell you what’s different for me, Violet,” he said. “I never once stopped thinking of you. No matter what was going on in my life, you were there. You always will be. And someday you’ll realize I’d do anything for you.”
She sobbed into her hands as she heard him gather his things and slam the door. Twenty minutes later the Mustang’s lights came on and he roared out of the parking lot.