And he hadn’t summoned her to this lunchtime meeting to discuss their son’s fate. “I’d like some cranberry juice, if you have it.”
Nodding, he filled a glass with ice from the bucket on the bar and, reaching underneath, pulled out an individual-size bottle of juice, opening it to fill the glass.
Pouring himself a shot of Scotch on the rocks, he brought both glasses over to set them on the table next to her and sat in the armchair on the opposite side. Taking a sip of his drink—a stiff one even for him—he leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, hands clasped, and turned toward her.
“You know about Leah.”
His mistress. “Yes.” She’d suspected, when Kirk had started coming home late, that he had a lover. She’d confronted him about it and he’d told her the truth. He’d also told her that the woman meant nothing to him and that he’d already ended the affair. He’d sworn that he loved Lillie. That she was his life. He’d agreed to go to counseling. He’d had tears in his eyes.
She’d just found out she was pregnant.
And she’d believed him.
“She’s pregnant, Lillie.”
Pain shot through Lillie’s lower stomach. She stared at Kirk, her mind completely blank.
“The baby’s mine.”
“How far along is she?” She should be feeling something.
“Three months.”
He hadn’t ended the affair.
“I wanted you to hear it from me.”
She nodded. Made sense.
Braydon Thomas—named for Lillie’s father, who, along with her mother, had been killed in a car accident when she was nineteen—kicked against her, the feeling faint, almost like air bubbles, in spite of the fact that she was at thirty-two weeks’ gestation.
“She asked me to move in with her.”
“She knows you’re married.”
“Yes.”
The girl had no scruples. No ethics.
“I told her yes, Lillie.”
“You’re married,” she said again, numb. Fueled by whatever force it was that got her through the hard times, she sat there.
“I know.” His brows drew together and his eyes shadowed. “I feel horrible about this but she loves me and I love her.”
One usually asked for a divorce before falling in love and starting a family. She’d have liked to point that fact out to him, but didn’t see any good that would come out of doing so.
“Is that where you go when you don’t come home at night?”
She’d kicked him out of her bed when she’d found out about his affair—until she could welcome him back with an open heart.
“Yes.”
What more could she say?
“It’s not as if you’re head over heels in love with me,” he blurted into the silence.
He was right. She’d married him because she cared about him deeply. Because she loved his father and Gayle. The family they all made together. Because they had so much in common, enjoyed being together. Because they’d wanted the same things out of life. Because he’d been her first lover and she’d found him incredibly attractive.
She didn’t want her marriage to end. But she couldn’t live with infidelity. Couldn’t be in a relationship without trust.
She couldn’t settle.
“I’m not going to file for divorce,” Kirk was saying. “You’ll have full insurance coverage throughout the rest of your...term.”
He was having another baby. Presumably a healthy one.
“Leah has her own insurance,” he said, continuing to fill her silence with information she didn’t want.
And had to have.
“I’ll still be paying the bills, the house is all yours, the car...”
“I cover my own car payment,” she reminded him, just to keep the facts straight. She paid the utilities on the house, too. Kirk might live like a wealthy man, but the money belonged to his father.
The elder Henderson kept his son on a tight budget. For Kirk’s own good, Lillie had discovered.
“Braydon’s medical bills are going to be exorbitant,” she said. “We’ll have co-pays.”
His upper lip puckered. “Do you really think it’s wise to run up bills when the doctor says there’s no hope? Why put ourselves in debt, or put him through all kinds of tests, if there’s nothing they can do?”
“Until he has the tests, we don’t know for sure that there’s nothing they can do.”
This was her field of expertise now. She spent her days advocating for and providing for the needs of children who were suffering in a long-term care unit at one of Phoenix’s largest children’s hospitals. She was there during treatments, to see that the patient suffered as little as possible, to make certain that environments were best suited to the comfort of the child. To be soothing when pain was impossible to avoid.
But with her degree, she was qualified to work in schools, in the court system, even at funeral homes to help children cope with the trauma of losing loved ones. She was trained to make sure that everything possible was done for the good of the children. Her own included.
With a heavy sigh, Kirk stood, hands in his pockets again, his mostly untouched drink on the table.
“You haven’t said anything about me moving in with Leah.”
“I don’t want you home with me if you don’t want to be there.”
“You’re okay with it, then?”
“No, Kirk, I’m not okay with my husband moving in with his pregnant lover,” she said, her shaky voice evidence that she must be feeling something. She stood, too. “How could I possibly be okay with that?” she asked, tears in her eyes as she finally faced him. Stood up to him.
“I’m also not foolish enough to believe anymore that you want me or our marriage, and I know that you always get what you want.”
That didn’t come out as she’d meant it to. “I...don’t want you in my home wishing you were with someone else. Thinking about someone else.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Lillie.”
She believed him.
And two months later, on the day Braydon breathed his last, she filed for divorce.
CHAPTER TWO
Present day
JON SWARTZ KNEW everyone in the room was looking at him—with horror not admiration. He might have cared. If his heart hadn’t been fully engaged with his red-faced little man. Two-year-old Abe was clearly not planning to have a good time at day care that Thursday in October. The boy’s screams had reached at least eighty decibel levels—a feat even for him.
“Noooooo!” The shrieks were continuous.
Jon, struggling to pry his son’s small but surprisingly strong arms from their locked position around his neck, was speaking continuously, as well. “It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” But he was fairly certain that Abraham Elias Swartz couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t even hear himself.
Pumpkins bearing smiling faces hung on the walls around them. A larger