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“I never thought I’d see the day.” Robert shook his head, his lips curling in a frown. “I never thought I’d see the day when…”

I stared up at him, waiting for him to continue, but he just kept shaking his head. He looked at me as though he couldn’t have been more disappointed.

I had a pretty good idea what he was going to say, the one thing he’d thrown at me from time to time during our marriage, knowing how much it hurt. A way for him to control me, keep me in place.

“Why don’t you say it? Finish your statement.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when you became like your mother.”

Every time I heard it, it stung. And this time was no different. But this was the first time I decided not to let the comment slide. “Thank you for giving me more reason to leave.”

“Do you have a boyfriend, Elsie? Your slut mother always had someone else waiting in the wings.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother!” I was surprised at my words, surprised that I was in some way defending her. I’d stopped doing so after she’d taken me to Philadelphia. But I had not shared the pain of my past with Robert only for him to use it against me.

“So there is someone else.”

“You’re unbelievable. You actually think that your betrayal doesn’t warrant me wanting to leave. That it has to be about another man.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Robert repeated.

I didn’t have a boyfriend. I had only the lover in my mind. A phantom lover who had filled a void in my life.

“No,” I told my husband.

“You had to think about that one.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Then what’s the rush? Why make the decision to end a marriage when you’re angry? Take some time to think.”

I had a feeling this was a fight I wouldn’t win. Or at least one that Robert wouldn’t give up on. And already, I was exhausted from the argument. So I told him what he wanted to hear.

“All right. I’ll take some time. Evaluate my options. But I’m not going to sleep in our bedroom.”

I had no intention of reevaluating my decision. My mind was already made up.

But I didn’t have to go anywhere tonight, and the house was more than big enough for the both of us.

All night I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. How could I when my marriage was falling apart? I might as well get up and do something that would take my mind off my problems.

That meant heading to my shop earlier than normal.

I hadn’t eaten any dinner last night, and my stomach rumbled in protest. But I’d be damned if I’d stop in the kitchen and have breakfast. The only place I wanted to be in this house was the spare bedroom, the one spot I could have any privacy.

I would pick up an egg sandwich and a coffee along the way to work. And probably by the end of the day I would call Sharon and ask if I could stay with her for the time being.

I went downstairs, hoping to make a clean getaway. But damn, no such luck.

As big as the house was, when I saw Robert sitting in the great room, it felt incredibly small.

“Shit,” I muttered.

He lowered the paper he’d been reading and regarded me as I stepped onto the main level. To my surprise, he smiled.

“Good morning, darling.”

Was he simply being cordial, or had he decided that our conversation last night had never happened?

“Good morning,” I replied, pausing only briefly to greet him. Then I continued on to the door.

“Elsie, wait.”

Cringing, I halted. Yes, Robert was still my husband,
but I wasn’t up for any chitchat right now. Besides, I was fairly certain he wanted to continue to discuss the issue of our separation, and I wasn’t in the mood to humor him as he tried to change my mind.

But I stopped nonetheless, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the spot beside him on the sofa.

“Where’s Olga?” I asked.

“She’s setting the table for us on the terrace. It’s a beautiful morning. It’ll be nice to have our breakfast out there. We don’t do it often enough.”

“I’m—”

“And don’t say you’re not hungry. You ate nothing last night.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that I plan on picking something up on the way to work.”

“Please, Elsie. Won’t you just sit?”

Olga appeared at the entrance to the great room then. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said, acknowledging me. Her gaze went to Robert. “Sir, the table is prepared. I’m just about to bring the food out.”

I gazed fondly at Olga. Leaving Robert meant I would be leaving her, too, and that reality made me sad.

She was a strong woman, and that’s what I had to be now—strong. While in her thirties, Olga had suffered tragedy when she’d lost her American husband to brain cancer. A widow at that young age, she had become a housekeeper to take care of her two young daughters.
Those daughters were grown now, with one going to college. The other had just gotten married.

Olga was a sweet woman. I liked her a lot, and I hated that Robert required her to address us as “sir” and “ma’am” or “Mr.” and “Mrs.” I’d never liked it, and I saw it now for what it was—his way of controlling everything. Of making himself feel important.

Robert folded the front section of the paper back into place and stood. He was dressed in maroon silk pajamas and a black silk robe. “Thank you, Olga. My wife and I appreciate it. Is the coffee on the table already?”

“Yes, sir. The caramel-flavored one, just like Mrs. Kolstad prefers.”

“Good, Olga.” Robert looked at me. “Let’s go outside now, darling.”

I couldn’t very well refuse, and insult Olga, as Robert was well aware. So I said, “Okay.”

She slipped away quietly, and Robert and I made our way to the patio. The sun was shining, the sky clear. Our patio was situated so that it was almost completely beneath the master bedroom, so a good amount of the area was shaded by the roof above. If it was raining, we could sit out here without getting wet. If it was sunny, we could enjoy the comfortable shade. A portion of the patio extended beyond the upper level, so you could sit by the wrought-iron railing and get sun on your face.

We had a view to die for. Because our basement was actually on ground level, the patio was on the second level of our home. It overlooked our pool and a large body of water beyond—Lake Norman. The Peninsula—
the exclusive area where we lived—was highly sought after real estate because it was on the water.

“Sit,” Robert instructed me.

I pulled out the plush chair and sat across the table from him. He reached for the silver coffeepot and began to pour the delicious smelling brew into my cup. He filled mine, then his own.

“It certainly is a lovely day,” he commented.

I almost didn’t reply. I didn’t want to sit here and have a meaningless conversation.

“We should really do this more often. We have so much beauty here, and we don’t take advantage of it often enough.”

I reached for the sugar and cream to avoid responding to that one.

“People would kill for this home we have. We’re very lucky.”

Sipping my coffee, I gazed out at the view. Our house had a basketball court in addition to the pool, but what I loved most was our private stretch of beach. Beyond the trees that gave our property some privacy was a path leading to the sand. There were two chairs where we could sit and watch the sunset, and in the beginning of our marriage, we’d done that often. Just a short walk down the beach was our own dock, where Robert kept one of the toys he enjoyed—a speedboat.

The door opened and Olga approached with a large tray. There were fresh scones, cantaloupe and honeydew slices, and two large omelets.

My mouth watered and my starving stomach grumbled. Olga made the best omelets, stuffed with vegetables
and cheese. They were fluffy and full and absolutely delicious.

“Thank you,” I said as she placed the tray on the table. “This is wonderful.”

“It looks like you’ve outdone yourself again,” Robert added.

She set our plates on the table before us, then arranged the fruit platter and scones in the center.

“Enjoy.” Olga gave a little nod and headed back into the house.

I took a fresh scone, broke it open and added butter, then popped a piece into my mouth. It was fantastic.

“I’ve been thinking about our discussion last night,” Robert began. My eyes met his. “You say you want to have children.”

“I think I’ve made it clear how important it is to me to have children,” I quipped. My stomach lurched. My hunger turned to nausea.

Robert nodded while he ate a bite of his omelet. He moaned in pleasure. “Try yours. This might be the best one Olga has ever made.”

I took a bite of the omelet, wondering why I was doing so. Robert said eat, so I obeyed. Robert said sit, so I sat. When was I going to stop letting him control everything I did?

I’m sure the omelet was fabulous, but my taste buds had gone dormant because of my anxiety. I ate a bite, but was unable to enjoy it. After I swallowed, I spoke. “I don’t have much time, Robert. Why don’t you make the point you want to make.”

He finished chewing. “You want children. I under
stand that. But what if you leave me and you can’t get pregnant? Won’t you feel a little silly?” He raised his eyebrows as if to emphasize the reality: that I hadn’t considered that possibility. “If you’re set on leaving, I propose this first—let’s set up an appointment with a specialist and have the required medical tests done to deem whether or not you’re even fertile.”

Whether or not you’re even fertile…
It almost sounded as if Robert hoped I wouldn’t be.

“You’re going on thirty-eight,” he went on. “A woman of your age…it’s not that easy to get pregnant.”

I’d heard enough. “It’s especially not easy to get pregnant when your husband has had a vasectomy.” I no longer had an appetite. I pushed my chair back on the tile patio and stood. “This is about more than getting pregnant. It’s about your deception.”

“Sit down, Elsie.”

“I have to go.”

“Give it a few months. We’ve got Saul Bloomberg’s daughter’s wedding on Mother’s Day.”

“Which I already told you I’d be too busy to—”

“And another couple of weddings over the summer. I won’t be going alone.”

“Then find someone to accompany you,” I snapped.

“Elsie.”

I started to walk away, but as Robert called my name again, I stopped and faced him.

There was something I needed to know. Something else I was pretty sure had been deception. I walked back to the table, but didn’t sit.

“Tell me something,” I began. “That night I was in Charleston with Sharon—when you called me saying you were having chest pains?”

“Yes?”

“You never did go to the hospital, did you? For whatever reason, you felt threatened that I was out of town with Sharon. Maybe you thought my pregnant friend was really on the hunt for a new man—you mentioned something to that effect.”

“I was kidding.”

“And you were
kidding
about chest pains, weren’t you? You wanted me home, so you lied.”

Robert scoffed. He obviously felt I didn’t deserve an answer.

“Is that a yes?”

“No, it’s not a yes,” Robert said indignantly. “I was having chest pains.”

“And you went to the hospital and they told you it was gas pains.”

“Yes.”

“Just like before.”

“Yes, just like before. People can suffer from gas pains more than once in a lifetime.”

“How convenient,” I mumbled.

“Pardon me?”

“I called every hospital in Cornelius and Charlotte. Every single one. Several times. You weren’t at any of them.”

“I can’t control whether or not some idiot clerk couldn’t find me in their system. But I was there, Elsie.”

“Then why didn’t you have any lactulose—that prescription medicine you got the first time? It was nowhere in the house.”

“You know I hated that stuff. I refused the prescription.”

He had an answer for everything. And what he’d said
could
be true. He was so smooth. He knew just how to make a person second-guess herself.

“You accuse me of being a liar? I think I’m owed an apology.”

“I would apologize—if I believed you. But I don’t.”

Once again I turned and walked away.

“Elsie. Elsie!” Robert continued to call after me. I didn’t answer.

Olga gave me a confused look as she saw me whiz through the kitchen.

“The breakfast was not good?” she asked.

“Everything was fine.” I forced myself to sound cheery. “I’m running late is all.”

I felt a sense of relief as I stepped out the front door. I’d made my decision and conveyed that decision to Robert twice without caving to his pressure.

I gazed up at the blue sky, let the sun’s rays kiss my face.

This was a new day.

The beginning of my new life.

Just minutes out of my driveway, I found myself slipping on my Bluetooth earpiece and dialing a number.

“Elsie?” Sharon said.

Hearing my best friend’s groggy voice on the other end of the line, I realized what I’d done. I’d called her without thinking…without considering the time.

“I’m sorry, Sharon,” I said, my eyes darting to the digital clock on the dashboard. It was ten after eight. “I’ll phone you back later.”

“The hell you will,” she said. “If you’re calling me this early, something must be wrong. Besides, I can hardly sleep—the baby is doing acrobatics. I swear, I can’t wait for the next few months to pass.”

She was complaining like a typical pregnant woman, but I heard a smile in her voice. She would go through
all the pain in the world while pregnant, if it meant she would carry this baby to term.

“So, tell me,” she insisted. “What’s going on?”

A beat passed as I considered exactly what to say. Then my eyes teared up and I replied, “Everything. Oh, God, Sharon—it’s everything.”

“Are you driving?”

“Yes. I was on my way to the shop, but I don’t have to be there for another hour and a half.”

“Then come here first. I’ll make a pot of tea.”

“Thank you, Sharon.” My shoulders drooped, and I realized right then how much I needed someone to share my problems with. I couldn’t do this all alone.

I needed someone to listen, to offer me tissues as I cried. Someone to pamper and coddle me. Sharon was excellent at that. A born nurturer, she’d be a fantastic mother, I knew. For her, being a good mom usurped everything else. And she was the same way when it came to being a good friend.

I didn’t know where my own mother was. Perhaps still in Cleveland, Ohio. I’d heard that she’d moved back there once I’d left Philadelphia. Or maybe she was in Seattle, where she had some family. Hell, she could be in Timbuktu.

Wherever she was, she was probably still living the same life she always had. Filling the void in her life with a string of men. Still not interested in a relationship with the child she’d brought into the world.

I take some of the blame for that. When I moved to North Carolina with my friend Treasure, I’d put distance between me and my mom. I’d needed to for my
sanity. I’d gotten therapy, tried to understand why she had never truly been there for me, and attempted to deal with the pain. Then I’d reached out to her—first by letter, then by phone when there was no reply to my letter.

She’d angrily told me that I’d made my choice and had nothing more to say to me. A week later she had called me, crying, telling me to go on with my life and forget her, that I was better off without her.

The next time I’d tried to reach her, her phone had been disconnected.

My therapist had said that my mother likely needed to deal with her own personal demons before she would be ready to reach out to me. Of course, I’d been devastated. As much as I’d resented her for hurting my father, she was still my mom.

A mother who was hurting me with her neglect.

But that was something she had always done, a fact I had to accept. Eventually, I also had to accept that I was probably better off without her in my life.

I had vowed to be a different kind of mother, one who would play at the park with her kids and color with them and read to them at bedtime. One who would be faithful to their father and never do anything to make her children feel neglected or unloved.

The kind of mother Sharon would be.

Sharon lived only five minutes from my house, also on the lake. Her place was large as well, but at approximately five thousand square feet, it was half the size of mine.

But still big enough for both of us.

As I was pulling into her driveway, I saw her peering out the living room window, awaiting my arrival. She moved the moment she saw my car, and by the time I reached her door, she was swinging it open.

As I looked at her beautiful face and the small bump growing beneath her robe, I thought again about the tragedy she’d endured. About how she had lost a husband, and yet was still strong. For the most part she compartmentalized her heartache, wanting to do everything in her power to keep from affecting the baby with her sadness.

I was about to lose a husband, and it was unlikely I’d ever get pregnant.

I burst into tears.

“Oh, Elsie.” Sharon put her arms around me and hugged me. “Whatever it is, you’re gonna be okay.”

From her, those weren’t just words. She was a testimony to triumph after adversity.

“I want to believe you, Sharon. But…”

She released me and closed the door. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The tea’s ready.”

I followed her there, noting how she rested a hand on her belly. She would walk through fire to deliver that baby when he was due.

I would do the same—if I ever got the chance.

But because of Robert’s lies, I might never know that joy. That kind of enduring, unconditional love.

It was something I’d never experienced from my own mother. Maybe that’s why I was so desperate to have my own child—to in some way correct the wrongs I’d suffered in my youth.

In the kitchen, Sharon went to the marble counter and lifted the tray with the teapot and cups.

“I can get it, Sharon,” I protested.

“I’m pregnant, Elsie. Not disabled. You sit.”

She brought the tray to the table, then immediately poured me a cup. She added milk, no sugar, knowing exactly how I liked my tea. The moment she handed me the cup, I took a sip. And then I started to cry again.

Sharon sat down beside me. “I’ve never seen you this devastated. Is Robert ill?”

“Robert is a liar and my marriage is over.” The words tumbled from my lips.

“What?” Her eyes widened. “What did he do?”

So I told her. Told her everything. Even how he’d likely lied about having chest pains the night we’d been in Charleston.

“Oh, my God. A vasectomy? I can’t believe it.” She shook her head.

“I feel so stupid.”

“No. No, sweetie. Don’t say that. You trusted your husband. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“But how could I have missed the signs that he was lying?”

“How were you supposed to know?” Sharon countered. “Short of hooking him up to a lie detector…”

That made me smile through my tears.

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you think you know a person, but some people you never can know,” she mused. “They put on a certain face to the world, present
themselves one way, but in their hearts they’re nothing like that.”

“Are you talking about Felicity and Carmen?” I asked.

“Among other people, I suppose. Only a handful of individuals who used to associate with me even bother now.”

“So, you still haven’t seen or heard from Carmen or Felicity?”

Sharon shot me an ironic look.

“Not even a…a card in the mail?”

The look intensified. But there was no bitterness there, nothing at all.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “You knew them longer than I did. They’re not the warmest people in the world, perhaps, but doesn’t it bother you that in your darkest hour, they’ve dropped you?”

“It’s in your darkest hour that you discover who your true friends are. You were there for me, and I’m here for you.”

She gave me a look ripe with meaning, and I smiled in appreciation.

“Now, what are you going to do?”

“I’m done.” I didn’t hesitate before saying the words. Didn’t have to ponder the question. “I’m leaving him. Maybe you’ll say this is a knee-jerk reaction, but—”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m listening and supporting. That’s what friends do.”

“Thank you.”

“And to be honest, I’m not surprised.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It wasn’t something I could put my finger on in the beginning, but it always seemed…kind of like I was only seeing part of you when you and Robert were together. Whereas at the shop, you were a different person. When we were out together, you were different. Happier. Full of life. But with Robert, that wasn’t the case. You exuded a different kind of energy when you were with him. Kind of like you were a meeker, weaker person. I don’t know.”

My eyes widened in shock as I regarded my friend. “You never said anything.”

“Because it wasn’t my place. Did I think you would thrive without him? I’ll admit I did, yeah. But if you were going to leave Robert, it had to be because you came to that decision on your own, not because I encouraged you to get there.”

I nodded. I understood. If Sharon had ever expressed any doubts about my marriage, it might have affected our friendship. And she was right—I needed to get to this point without help from anyone else.

“For now, I’ve moved into another bedroom,” I explained. “But I think I need to move out. It will be too hard to stay there.”

“Lucky for you, you can have your pick of spare bedrooms here,” she said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Sharon.” I knew she would offer, and I’d planned to ask, but I still didn’t want to impose. “What if I’m such a downer I depress you?”

“Nonsense. We’re here for each other, right? We’re both going through…challenging times. I’m living in
this big house all by myself. Trust me, it’ll be nice to have the company.”

I knew she was right. Rather than imposing, I would be company for her, and she for me.

“And I can help you when the baby comes,” I said.

“See—it’s perfect.”

I was feeling better when I left Sharon’s, but that happy feeling didn’t last very long. The moment I pulled up in front of Distinct Creations, my stomach twisted into a knot. Seeing my floral shop reminded me that I just might lose what had been a dream come true, if Robert decided to take it from me in the divorce.

His money had allowed me to open the store, and I dreaded the idea of losing it. Especially to a man who would most likely sell it, possibly just to spite me.

I put that thought out of my mind as I entered, and instead concentrated on getting to work. The Mother’s Day weekend was approaching, one of the busiest times of the year for a florist.

I’d arrived later than I’d planned, after spending a good hour talking with Sharon. So I was surprised that Spike wasn’t there yet. At ten minutes to ten, he was clearly running late, too.

I quickly got to work, checking the logbook for orders that were due to be picked up, and making sure they were all in the fridge. When the door chimes sounded several minutes later, I expected it to be him.

“I’m back here, Spike. Will you turn the Open sign on?” I had a neon sign in the window that indicated
to the world the shop was open. And it had to be ten already.

“Actually, I’m here to place an order.”

The sound of the deep voice, so clearly not Spike’s, had me whirling around and throwing a hand to my chest.

My heart nearly imploded when I saw that I was staring at the hazel eyes I had seen so many times in my fantasies.

Oh, shit.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. He wasn’t an apparition. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Uh…” My breathing had gone from normal to heavy in an instant. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“You
are
open, right?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s ten. A minute after, actually.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m open.” I wiped my suddenly damp palms on my black slacks. “How may I help you?”

The stranger smiled. The kind of smile that was warm and sexy all in one. He wasn’t the same man he’d been that day in February. The worry in his eyes was gone, the burden lifted from his shoulders.

And he was here. Today of all days.

It’s fate,
I thought, and believed it.

“It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday,” the man said. “My mother just conquered breast cancer.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Officially, she’s in remission, but we’re hoping for the best. I’d like to order her something spectacular. Something that shows how happy I am that
she won the fight, and how proud I am that she’s my mother.”

His words touched me. Almost made me cry. I was thinking about my own mom, how she hadn’t inspired that kind of pride.

“Aren’t you the thoughtful son,” I said.

“I’ve only got one mother. And she means the world to me.”

“As she should.” I smiled. He smiled.

Were we flirting?

The door chimes sang, and in rushed Spike. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He carried a tray with two large coffees.

I hardly cared that he was late. My phantom lover was standing right in front of me, and he still made my pulse race.

The timing…this wasn’t an accident.

“So,” I said, and took a deep breath. “How spectacular is your budget?”

“My budget is limitless. Within reason,” he added.

That smile again. And this time I knew. It wasn’t a casual I’m-being-nice smile.

It was a smile just for me.

My stomach fluttered. And I found myself doing something that surprised me: easing my left hand behind my back so that I could hide my wedding bands. Wedding bands I had forgotten to take off.

Was I interested, or just interested in flirting?

Hell, yeah, I was interested. I wanted to experience the reality of what it was like to feel this man’s hands and mouth on my breasts and my pussy. Would it be as amazing as in my fantasies?

“Miss?” he prompted.

I jerked my gaze to his, feeling my cheeks flush. “I’ll come up with something special,” I told him. “Do you want flowers only, or a foil balloon added to the arrangement? And I assume you want big.”

“Whatever you think is best. Big, definitely. As to what kind of flowers and all that, I leave it in your hands.”

I was already picturing something with pink roses. Pink was the color associated with the fight against breast cancer. A stunning arrangement full of pink roses, maybe with some pink Peruvian lilies, and some colorful mokara orchids. A crystal vase as opposed to a basket.

“Does she like chocolate?” I asked. “I could add a small box of Godiva chocolates. Nothing that would ruin any particular diet she might be on.”

“My mother will love the chocolates. And she’d be the first to tell you to make it a big box.”