We spent Sunday helping clean up from the wedding and nursing hangovers.
On Monday morning, I called Charlotte. “I need to borrow your truck. I have an errand to run and it can’t wait.”
Chapter 19
Derek
I’d never spent as many hours in the office as I did this last week. I couldn’t sit still. I fixed things, it was what I did. Why was it that the most important problem in my life was the one I couldn’t draw a blueprint for?
When I came home from work the following Monday, later than I usually would, I was starving and emotionally burnt out. I needed to say my piece and let her make her choice. At least then I would know. Living in limbo was beating me down.
I walked into the house, rehearsing what I wanted to say, but the words died on my lips. The table was set, and there was a small, wrapped package on my plate. “What’s going on?”
Rosalind stepped around the kitchen island. She was barefoot, in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing Vegas glam about her today. She cleared her throat. “This has been a rough week. I know things have been up in the air between us, and that’s my fault. I’ve been trying to make a decision. But I should have been clear with you what the options I was considering were.” She stepped closer. “Leaving you and leaving here were never on the table. I had to decide whether to try and play their game or cut ties and do things my own way.”
I swallowed, slow to digest her words. “What did you decide?”
She gestured to the package. “Open it.”
I studied her for a moment, but didn’t move.
She rolled her eyes and handed it to me.
My heart was beating out of my chest as I ripped the ribbon off and pulled the lid off the box. Inside was a folded piece of yellow paper. “What’s this?”
She pulled it from the box and unfolded it. “I went to the DMV today, or whatever it’s called in Canada. I legally changed my last name to Rutherford and ordered a new driver’s license.”
I looked at the small print on the paper, seeingRosalind Rutherfordand my address—our address.
“I should get the real card soon; I just didn’t want to wait to tell you. My life is with you, and my life is here. I don’t need their money if it means giving you up and the life we’re building here.”
“So, does that mean…”
She nodded. “I’m not a Huxley anymore, in name or bank account. I don’t need the money to be happy. I just need you.”
I tossed the paper on the table and pulled my wife into my arms. The tension poured out of my body now that I had tangible proof she was staying. I held her face in my hands, her smile finally reaching her eyes. “I love you wifey,” I said, my voice catching with emotion, in a totally manly way.
Her smile got impossibly wider. “I love you, too, husband.”
Epilogue - Six Months Later
Derek
My hands were uncharacteristically sweaty as I lit candles and placed them on the dining room table. Charlotte had been working with a new client in the studio for most of the day. Despite not having Huxley money, she still had Huxley contacts, and not everyone looked down on boudoir the way her family did. She had put word out that she had a new business and would be willing to do a story and a spread of her photography—for the right price.
The media, which I was not a fan of, jumped on the opportunity, and with one story, she’d be making more than I did in six months. I knew she wanted to earn her own income and make her business profitable. I didn’t realize how quickly she’d be able to accomplish those things.
And she said she didn’t have a head for business.
I wiped my hands on my pants again and took the steaks off the barbecue.
Rosalind saw her client to the door as I put the finishing touches on dinner. Once she was done, she collapsed into a chair at the table with a smile on her face. “What’s all this?”
“A special dinner for my hard-working wife.” I gave her a quick kiss, knowing how easy it was to get lost in her touch.
As we ate, she gushed about how well the shoot had gone. I was excited for her, but couldn’t seem to commit more than anod or grunt to the conversation. I was nervous. Why the fuck was I nervous? “Where did we get our wedding rings?” I blurted out the question before cramming salad in my mouth to stop from saying more.
Rosalind blinked at me.
