“Take a break, honey,” Crista said, but looked hard at Anthony. “We need to talk anyway.”
“Okay, but tomorrow she has dance after school, and she has got to finish this book.”
“We’ll read it together tonight before bed,” Crista promised Nolie, whose face lit up. She knew “read it together” meant…well, Crista would read it and Nolie would snuggle happily.
Was that so bad?
“Let’s go, Pittypat!” Nolie shot toward the door and, for a minute, Crista thought Anthony would block her way. Then he stepped aside and let girl and dog disappear.
“She’s got to learn, Cris,” he said softly.
“I’m not even in the door yet,” she said, hanging her handbag on a hook. “And I have to talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He backed away to let her through and she slowed her step, looking up at him with an ache in her heart.
Was he really not going to hug and kiss her hello? She couldn’t remember the last real kiss they’d shared—well, yes. A rare date night well over a month ago.
Maybe she shouldn’t leave. Maybe their marriage would fail because of the effort to be sure Nolie didn’t.
He gave an uncertain smile, reaching to give her a perfunctory hug and a light kiss on the forehead.
“We really did miss you,” he added.
Did he? Sadly, she didn’t know.
“I wasn’t gone that long, but, whoa, a lot happened.”
“Come on.” He gestured her into the kitchen, which was immaculate—a fact she appreciated—and she walked to the cozy corner banquette. The table was covered with a few books, one opened to a page with a bright pink butterfly and so few words, she knew it was meant for a younger child.
“Something to drink?” Anthony asked as he opened the fridge and grabbed a Pellegrino.
“I’ll take a bottle of water. Thanks.”
She slid onto a cushioned seat, glancing out at the deck, bathed in spring sunshine. The rolling hills beyond were bright green and a few new roses were in bloom in Mama’s garden.
“I promised her I’d deadhead them for her,” Anthony said, following her gaze. “I don’t want Maggie to come back and find unloved rose bushes.”
“That’s good,” she said, taking the water bottle.
He probably didn’t want her to come back at all, Crista thought, but Anthony was too nice to say it out loud. They both were—but that didn’t mean they weren’t thinking it.
“How was the house?” he asked. “I hope they dumped the ridiculous idea of not selling it.”
She let out a sigh, not wanting to even think about yet another subject where they didn’t see eye to eye. He’d flipped out at the idea of not selling the Destin house.
He’d called the house “the one great thing Maggie ever did for us” and had already created a spreadsheet for how they’d save and invest the windfall.
“No decisions have been made,” she finally said. “But the house is spectacular. And it would be an amazing place to take Nolie.”
This week, as a matter of fact,but she took a long sip of water before dropping that bomb.
“So, how did they take the news that your father’s so-called best friend was the rat who turned him in?” he asked.
She made a face, almost sorry she’d shared that with Anthony when she’d come back from taking Maggie to the airport. Especially now that she was going to actually lean on Tessa Wylie for help.
But she’d been frantic to share the news, and she needed him to understand why she had to deliver it in person, so he’d have to work from home while she went to Destin.
“First of all, I’m not sure I’d call Artie Wylie hisbestfriend, but whatever.”