Once Upon A Marriage

“I wish I could tell you that.”

She could feel her father’s sigh all the way from Arizona.

“I wish I had the answer for myself.”

“Try. This is important.”

“You in love, baby?” Was that a note of hope in his voice.

“No, Daddy, absolutely not. I’m just...” She was not going to tell her father about her fears where Gabi was concerned. Still couldn’t believe she’d actually told Elliott.

She knew they were unfounded. Knew that she had severe trust issues. Unfortunately that knowledge didn’t erase a lifetime of example. Or the worry that stemmed from having been hurt by that example.

And not just from her father.

He was just the only unfaithful male she had access to at the moment.

The thought did occur to her that she was obsessing over Liam’s ability to be faithful as way of avoiding an even harder truth.

Gabrielle was married, and Marie was alone. All alone. And didn’t see any hope for a remedy to the situation.

She was going to end up like Grace—able to change the insides of a toilet when she was eighty because she’d been alone for so long.

Worse than Grace. At least the older woman had known true love. He’d just died too young.

“Hurting your mother was the last thing I ever wanted to do...” Her father sounded old. Tired. And sadder than she was.

“Then why did you?” She’d been there. Still felt the pain. She knew who’d wronged them.

“I...guess I thought I could get away with it. I never thought she’d find out.”

The answer made her angry. And frightened her at the same time.

“What were you thinking when you were with them, Daddy? Did you ever even think about Mom and me waiting for you at home?”

“What I thought was that I was desperate to save my marriage.”

She scoffed. And then choked. Such a ludicrous remark didn’t deserve comment.

“Your mom and I had reached a state of comfortable, secure, forever love. I wanted that kind of love. Had always wanted it. But something inside me was missing. I was getting irritable with you. With your mom. Starting to feel trapped. While at the same time craving every minute I spent with you both and missing you every minute I was away.”

She listened. Needing something from him. Just not sure what he could give her that could help.

“I guess I thought that I could fill the hole inside with the excitement of meaningless afternoon liaisons, and then come home to the perfect life.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.” She’d asked. And she braced herself.

“For the first several years, it worked out just fine. Better than I’d imagined.”

She’d asked. Struggled to breathe. “Y... Y...” Her throat was dry. “Years?” Marie glanced at her newly cleaned pots, wishing for a sip of water. Standing, she steadied herself with a hand on the small brown wood pedestal table and then pushed off toward the counter.

“You asked.”

All those years, when he was swearing his fidelity, begging to be let back into the family, he’d been...

“What made it not work anymore?” She was an observer of a tragic accident now. Watching with horror, but needing to see.

“I got caught.”

Thank goodness she was close enough to the counter. It caught her as she swayed backward. She leaned there. Letting it take her weight. “You mean you were unfaithful for years before Mom knew?”

“From before you were born.”

She wanted to die. To cry. To pull the covers over her head and stay unaware forever.

But she couldn’t.

If Liam Connelly turned out to be anything like what she feared he was... He’d once told her and Gabi that he’d never been in a relationship for more than a few months before he started to feel attraction to other women...

Other women like his editor? Was it too late already? Her parents had only been married a year before she came along.

But Liam adored Gabi. And...

Some men were just seemingly born to cheat.

Or her perceptions were too skewed to see reality.

Whatever. One thing was for sure. She was going to stand up. Be strong.

She was going to be ready if Gabi needed her.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e8d76af6-30fe-504f-9622-5df7470373cd)

AT 1:22 A.M., Miss Sailor Harcourt, twenty-five-year-old heiress to a $2.3 billion fortune, texted him.

Sorry I’m keeping you so late.

His job didn’t entail a response to Sailor’s comment. He was being paid to keep her safe. Not happy.

When he heard his phone buzz again, every nerve in his body went on alert.

Something was going on. Sailor, who obviously found him a nuisance, usually ignored him.

The man I’m with doesn’t know I have a bodyguard. He doesn’t know I’m related to Rod Harcourt or that I’m rich enough to need protection.