I finally give in to the temptation and pull up the internet browser. I research daycare versus a nanny. I create a list of potential candidates for both. Then I go back to a browser I have had saved for a couple of weeks. I stare at the picture on the computer. How can a million tiny pixels of color create a hurricane of emotion in me? It is an image of a small cottage. Located in Galway, Ireland. It’s right next to the ocean, with the closest neighbor being an old crumbling castle. It is about a fifteen-minute drive from the nearest town. But let us call it what it really is—a peaceful place to die.

I put a bid on it and have been anxiously waiting for a response from my realtor. I plan to tell Landon that I am leaving as soon as I have secured the property. As if reading my mind, my phone lights up. My realtor is calling. With shaking hands, I pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“You’ve got it.” My stomach turns.

“That’s great.” My voice lacks enthusiasm.

“You can move in as soon as you sign the final paperwork. I’ll be in my office on Thursday. You can come sign them then.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Have a good day, sweetheart. Bye.”

“You too.”

And with that, I have a conversation with Landon. One I am not looking forward to.

CHAPTER 10

Baby Bump

Landon

I scrub at my eyes as they start to feel weary from staring at a computer screen. It is something I have been doing a lot of lately. As if I could scrub away the memory of Brooke crumbled on the floor, broken down and crying. I shove away from my desk, my chair rolling to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me. I swivel around to take in the view of the city lights glowing like stars in a great abase. When did it get so late? I seem to be living at the office lately. I come in at the ass crack of dawn and stay well into the night.

There is no real reason I must be putting in this many hours. Most of the time I am actively seeking a project. I am here because I am avoiding my wife.

“Every time you’ve ever touched me in our short marriage you leave me feeling ashamed and whorish. As if I am nothing more than a broodmare. And how stupid am I that I long for your touch. And what is worse of all is that I do not hate you. I respect you too much to hate you. And I hate myself for it.” Her words play on repeat in my head; each time is like being stabbed. I almost think I would prefer to get stabbed.

“What are you still doing here?” I jump at the sound of Jared’s voice.

“Oh, you know just finishing up some things.”