Gathering up the rest of the letters, she stuffed them back into the manila envelope. The temptation to read more of them was there—but no, the letters were private and personal, meant for no one’s eyes but Burke’s. Reading them would only deepen her own hurt. She should never have taken them out of the drawer.

Opening the file drawer all the way, she stuffed the large envelope into the very back. There, it was done, she told herself as she closed the drawer. She would never touch those letters again.

Rising, she wandered back into the kitchen and opened the fridge to look for something to drink. There was wine from the party, a couple of diet colas, some orange juice, and a quart of milk past its expiration date. Nothing looked good. But seeing the party leftovers reminded her of the need to call Burke’s friends and tell them about the accident.

Could she do it? Their numbers were in the outdated Rolodex on Burke’s desk. Allison had used it to find their addresses when she’d sent the party invitations—written invitations with an RSVP, from Burke’s trophy wife. They’d probably hooted about that behind her back.

Calling them could wait till morning, she decided. Or better yet, she could ask Garrett to do it. Right now, what she needed was rest.

In the chilly bedroom, she stripped down, pulled on her sweats, plugged in her phone on the nightstand, and crawled between the sheets.

She’d hoped to fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Instead she lay staring up into the darkness, her thoughts racing like runaway horses on a carousel.

What about Burke’s car? Where was it now? She would need to call the insurance company—she didn’t even know which one. And where was Burke’s phone? Maybe Garrett knew. After all, he was the one who’d called the police. But she couldn’t become dependent on the man, Allison reminded herself. He would be all too quick to take advantage of what he perceived as her weakness. Now was the time to take charge and be strong.

First thing tomorrow she would be at the hospital, whether Burke wanted her there are not. She would be patient and understanding with Brianna. But when it came to her husband’s welfare, she would not be put off by anybody—including Burke himself.

Like Kate, she would have to be a tigress.

Reading Kate’s letter the second time had burned words and phrases into Allison’s memory. She recalled what Kate had said about Burke’s being away so much in his work as a talent agent, missing birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, and family crises. But through all that, they’d managed to hold their marriage together.

We’ve had a rich life, Burke. And the rough times have only made the good times sweeter.