The Saint's Wife Page 7

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “The thing is, I think it really was Chris’s fault.”

  “Why? Because of the treatment for—”

  “No, no. This happened before he got sick the first time. When she was in the hospital.” She lifted her eyebrows slightly, as if to ask, Remember that?

  Oh, David remembered. Chris had been alternately worried sick and absolutely livid during that time, and that was in between making sure that the public believed she was being treated for pneumonia or something. He would not stand for the media catching wind of his wife’s admission to a psychiatric hospital.

  David hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I’m assuming there’s more to the story than I heard.”

  “Oh yeah. The thing is, her eating disorder fucked up her system. Stopped her periods for like two years. And it took almost a year after she got out of the hospital for them to start again.”

  David winced. “Which was about the time he got sick.”

  Alexandra nodded slowly. “Chris is absolutely convinced that if she hadn’t done that to herself, they would’ve been able to start a family. He just can’t see that he’s the reason she developed that disorder in the first place.”

  “She told you that?”

  “No!” Alexandra exhaled hard. “Simple observation. He’s been harping on her about her weight for as long as I’ve known them.”

  “Yeah. No shit.” David shook his head. “I can’t stand that.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pulling tight, but he couldn’t quite read her. Then her expression softened as she watched Tiffany instead of him. “They both wanted kids, but between her weight issues and his cancer, that ship sailed.” She turned back toward David, and the simmering fury in her eyes almost sent him back a step. “And if I know Chris, he’ll go to his grave believing she cost him the chance to be a father.”

  David swallowed. No wonder things between the McQuaids had gone from sour to downright venomous in the last few years. Chris had always dreamed of having a family. In the early days of their marriage, he and Joanna had talked about how many kids they wanted and what they’d be named. And somewhere along the line, that had stopped. David had just assumed Chris was too caught up in Berserker Tech to even think about kids. Or that things between him and Joanna had deteriorated enough that they didn’t even want a family.

  “Daddy, I’m ready to go.”

  David shook himself, and when he looked down, Tiffany stood in front of him, her backpack on her shoulders. He smiled. “Okay. Say good-bye to Mom.”

  Alexandra knelt and hugged Tiffany warmly. As mother and daughter exchanged a few words, David actually had to fight the urge to put a hand on his ex-wife’s shoulder. Whatever shit they might’ve gone through together, however they might’ve destroyed their marriage from the inside out, she was a damned good mother, and he would never, ever say otherwise. Their shared custody agreement was probably the toughest part of their divorce—they both trusted the other completely with the care of their daughter, but being separated from her drove them both insane. If there was one reason he wished they could’ve worked out their marriage…

  But like the McQuaids’ shot at parenthood, that ship had sailed.

  And for the next couple of days, it was just him and Tiffany.

  “Daddy! The tigers are that way!”

  “Okay, okay.” David laughed and let Tiffany pull him along the concrete path toward the tiger exhibit. She was going through a “big cats” phase, and they’d already been to see the lions and snow leopards. Not to mention the ocelot. He wondered how long it was going to take to convince her that, no, they couldn’t actually get one of those even though they were smaller. Maybe a housecat eventually. One that looked like it could chew his arm off? Maybe not.

  On the way to the tiger exhibit, a couple of teenagers holding hands caught David’s eye. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Maybe seventeen. He remembered dating at that age, and man, he could’ve sworn he’d felt a lot more grownup than these kids looked.

  There must have been a group of high school students here today or something—there were teenagers everywhere, and a lot of them were couples. Far too young, by the looks of it, but definitely paired off. Holding hands. Arms around each other. Occasionally being a little too affectionate for a public place.

  “Eww.” Tiffany wrinkled her nose as they walked past a bench where a couple of teenagers were making out.

  They must’ve heard her, because they both looked up, and their eyes darted straight to David. Immediately, they sat up, straightening their clothes and putting some space between them. He had to bite back a chuckle—though he was irritated that they’d put on that display right in front of his kid, and with himself for not seeing them before Tiffany did, he was kind of amused by the terrified embarrassment. As if they thought he was this close to calling their parents.

  “Why do people do that?” Tiffany asked as they continued walking.

  “You’ll understand when you’re—” Oh dear Lord. I think my father’s voice just came out of my mouth. “It’ll make sense when you’re their age.”

  “Gross,” she muttered, and then saw a couple of squirrels playing on a trash can and, knowing her, completely forgot about the amorous teens.

  David didn’t quite forget them, though. Or his “you’ll understand when you’re older” response. Not because it was something his father would’ve said, something he’d sworn he would never say, but because it was true. Someday, Tiffany would understand. Someday, she’d be noticing boys. Dating them. Walking around holding hands. And maybe getting reprimanded by passing preschoolers when they forgot they were in public.

  David bristled, and he swore he felt himself going gray right then and there, but he also had to stop himself from laughing. Part of him immediately imagined sitting down with her boy of choice and having the “this is my little girl, and if you break her heart, I’ll break you in half” talk while the kid squirmed and David cleaned his guns.

  Part of him, though, kind of looked forward to that day. She was little now, but the whole point was to help her grow up and guide her so she could take on the world—boys and all. Which meant getting her heart broken sometimes, and eventually finding the person she wanted to be with, and God help any boy who treated her like—

  He stopped dead in his tracks.

  Chris.

  “Daddy?”

  He looked down, and Tiffany looked up at him, a couple of curls falling into her eyes. “Hmm?”

  “You stopped.”

  “Oh. Right. I—” He looked around, hunting for an excuse. A sign caught his eye, and he pointed to it as he squatted beside her. “The penguin exhibit is up there. Do you want to check that out before we go to the tigers?”

  She shook her head, making those curls bounce. “Tigers.”

  David laughed. He kissed her cheek, stood and took her hand again. “Tigers it is. Let’s go.”

  As they continued walking, his mind continued pelting him with questions. With comparisons between the teenagers, the woman who’d married his best friend and the little girl tugging him toward the tiger exhibit.

  What if, when she reached the age of awkward relationships, she met someone like Chris? Would David give them his blessing? Or would the Chris-like kid be on the receiving end of a sharp-edged lecture while David meticulously scrubbed a shotgun?

  His chest tightened. Would he tolerate anyone treating his daughter as a bauble, an inconvenience or a thing to be displayed as long as it maintained its proper appearance?

  David ground his teeth, resisting the urge to grip Tiffany’s hand tighter, protecting her against phantoms inside his own mind.

  And if he couldn’t even stomach the idea of a future boyfriend treating Tiffany that way, then why the hell had he spent so many years pretending it was okay for Chris to do it to Joann
a?

  His mind wandered back to the things Alexandra had told him this morning when he’d come to pick up Tiffany. He’d always wondered why Chris, who adored kids, hadn’t been all that enthusiastic about Tiffany’s arrival. Apparently she’d been salt in an open wound that David hadn’t even known about.

  His thoughts shifted to the conversation about Joanna. While working for Chris, Alexandra hadn’t had a lot of kind words about her. And when Alexandra was pregnant with Tiffany, David didn’t remember ever seeing her and Joanna in the same room. That was the same year Joanna did her stint in the hospital. She’d been horrifically thin, to the point even Chris was begging her to put on weight. It had never occurred to David that Alexandra’s presence—particularly once she’d started showing—might be hurting Joanna or Chris.

  How had he missed all of that?

  Well, that was easy. He’d been so caught up in dealing with major changes within the company on top of trying to save his marriage. They’d both known damn well that unexpectedly having a baby wouldn’t fix what was broken, but hoped they could make things work. Between corporate crises, marital strife and the baby on the way, he’d only been aware of the shit with the McQuaids because he and Chris had often commiserated over scotch behind closed doors. And he’d seen Joanna around, watched her losing way more weight than she should have, but he’d been too distracted to piece anything together.

  David couldn’t believe he’d missed it all. He’d always thought of her as being sullen and bitchy over the horrible imposition of having to attend a dinner where her husband was in the spotlight. But the other night, when the ballroom door had banged shut behind her, he’d stared at it, and as he replayed the conversation now, his stomach twisted tighter. She’d been angry, yes. But was that all?

  “If I ever manage to work up the courage to leave him again? Don’t try to stop me.”

  Had he imagined that little waver in her voice? The plea that didn’t quite make it into the words but somehow reached her eyes?

  And why was it suddenly so hard to see her as the spoiled bitch his best friend had inexplicably married? God. Had he been that wrong about her—and about Chris—all this time?

  Whether he’d been wrong or not, or if this was all a new development, he couldn’t deny that at the charity event the other night, she’d seemed…lost. Surrounded by her husband and hundreds of people, and somehow alone. He thought about how miserable she’d been all night, picking at her food beside the man who barely even noticed she was there or that she’d left. How she’d looked so healthy when he’d seen her in Tillamook, and how she was inching toward fragile thinness to please her husband. Her dying husband who wasn’t even losing weight as fast as she was, and probably wanted her to lose it even faster.

  David ran a hand through his hair. Had he been misjudging her all this time? Thinking she was the ungrateful shrew who didn’t deserve the man she’d married?

  Holy shit. Maybe he had been right about one thing.

  Maybe she didn’t deserve the man she’d married.

  Chapter Eight

  “Ice cream?” Chris sneered at the container Joanna had pulled out of the refrigerator a second before he’d come strolling in. “What does Kevin think about you eating that?”

  “It’s frozen yogurt, if you must know,” she said. “And Kevin doesn’t consider starvation to be a healthy nutrition program, so…”

  “Yeah, but there’s a big difference between starvation and…that.”

  Joanna jerked open a drawer and pulled a spoon free. Christ, she’d actually been in a good mood before he’d walked into the kitchen. “Why don’t you discuss that with Kevin and let me know the final verdict?”

  He released one of those impatient breaths that had Joanna, you exhaust me written all over it.

  Feeling’s mutual, pal.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if Hilary passed the message along, but we have another charity event on Thursday night. Raising money for the renal cancer research facility.”

  Joanna suppressed a groan. “Hooray.”

  “It’s a formal event.” His eyes flicked toward the frozen yogurt container, then back to her.

  She desperately wanted to stab a spoon into it and defiantly take a bite, but she suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. The mere thought of the inevitable criticism that would come her way once she was dressed for the charity event pretty much killed her appetite.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I assume you’ll be up to it?”

  “Ask me again when we’re getting ready to go.”

  Chris sighed impatiently. “For God’s sake, if I can make it through without getting sick, then you can make it through without someone asking me why you look so miserable.”

  Through her teeth, she said, “Then I guess we’ll see who holds out the longest, won’t we?”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, and turned to snatch his phone off the counter, probably so he could stomp out of the room and up to his office. Just as his fingers grazed the phone, though, he wavered slightly and leaned against the island. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths, and that was when she realized he was ever so slightly pale.

  “Are you all right? You look a little—”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped. “What do you expect me to look like?”

  “Hey, back off. I was just concerned.” She jammed the spoon into the frozen yogurt and dug out a small mouthful.

  Chris glanced at his watch. “Should you really be eating anything this close to your workout?”

  She took another spoonful from the carton. “Kevin isn’t coming today.”

  Her husband’s eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I canceled our session.”

  “What? You had the whole weekend off.”

  “Yes, and I need to spend today studying.”

  “Studying?” He snorted. “For what?” He waved a hand at their lavish surroundings. “You have everything you could possibly need. What in the world do—”

  “What do you care, Chris?” She forced her voice to stay even, but it was a struggle. “The only purpose I serve around here is to walk around at events with my hand on your elbow so everyone can see your trophy wife. Does it matter if I want something for me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know what? Do whatever you want. I don’t have time for this.”

  “Oh, there’s a shock,” she ground out. “If it doesn’t center around you, you don’t have time for it.”

  Chris glared at her. “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have time for anything anymore. Particularly things that are a waste of time.”

  “And studying for a midterm exam is somehow a bigger waste of time than running in place on a conveyor belt for twenty minutes?”

  His gaze slid downward, then back up, pausing briefly at her thighs, her midsection and the barely touched carton of frozen yogurt in front of her. The silent scrutiny made her skin crawl.

  When their eyes met again, he said with a subtle sneer, “You don’t need to go to school, Joanna.”

  “But I need to spend more time with a personal trainer?”

  One eyebrow rose just slightly.

  She muttered a curse and took another small but defiant bite of frozen yogurt.

  Chris scowled. Then he started toward the hallway and, just before he disappeared around the corner, threw over his shoulder, “Give Kevin a call. Tell him I’ll pay him extra to cancel your cancellation.”

  No if you change your mind. None of that nonsense. She wondered if Chris sometimes forgot that she wasn’t an employee of his, someone on his payroll and at his beck and call. Or, knowing him, he hadn’t forgotten at all—he just believed she’d do what she was told and her opinion on the matter was irrelevant.

  She looked down at the frozen yogurt she’d been nibbling on. For a moment, she weighed her options. Eat a few m
ore bites, since all she’d wanted to begin with was a little something to satisfy her sweet tooth. Put it away without eating any more because, goddammit, she had to fit into something tight for that charity event. Finish the whole fucking carton because fuck you, Chris. And then probably throw it all back up either because her digestive tract was no longer used to bingeing or because her conscience would eventually give in to her husband’s criticism and guilt trips.

  Sighing, she tossed the spoon in the sink. As she put the lid back on the carton, she wondered if other women had this problem, or if it was possible to just eat a few bites of frozen yogurt without having to perform mental gymnastics in order to not feel like crap about it.

  So much for indulging in something sweet. She should’ve just gone out. Well, except that would’ve invited an interrogation—where were you? who were you with? what did you do? how much money did you spend?—that would’ve given her indigestion.

  Still hungry but too nauseated to eat, she left the kitchen and shuffled down the hall to her workroom. As soon as she stepped through the door, she realized Chris had won—not only had she given up on the frozen yogurt, but she definitely wouldn’t be studying today. Just looking at her textbooks made her stomach turn.

  Maybe I should just drop my classes. Isn’t like I’ll be able to concentrate any time soon.

  Chris, 1. Joanna, 0.

  Fuck my life.

  Well, that left her afternoon pretty free. What to do with it…

  She looked around the room but couldn’t muster up the energy or enthusiasm to work on any of her leather tooling projects. That was pretty much her only hobby. No studying, no leather working…fuck.

  Her gaze shifted to her phone. Call someone, maybe? Chat for a bit? She hadn’t talked to her mom in a while. Not since a few days after she’d returned home. Though part of her dreaded the conversation, part of her needed it, so she picked up her phone and speed-dialed her mother.