Husband by Choice

“Diane thinks so. She’s putting in a request for a warrant first thing in the morning.”

Good. Sitting at the table, Max noticed the open bottle of beer on Chantel’s other side. Reaching for it, he took a sip.

“Diane said something else, Max.” Her expression, while serious, held none of the pity he’d grown used to seeing there. Her blond hair framed pretty features—and

a frown. “She paid a visit to one of Smith’s old sources, some old guy, Victor something or other, who’d been a big-time drug dealer in his day and now lives comfortably in an active retirement community, playing golf and getting tanned. She knew that Smith and the guy had had a falling-out and wanted to know why. The guy had heard some rumors about Smith and one of Victor’s girlfriends. Turned out they were false, but while he’d been watching Smith he overheard a pretty brutal fight between Smith and Meredith. He was outside their apartment and waited for Smith to leave before knocking on the door. He wouldn’t tell her who he was, but he got her medical help after promising her that where he was taking her, they wouldn’t call the cops. And he told her that if she ever needed anything to give him a call. He gave her a private number.”

Max borrowed a second sip of beer and welcomed the burn as the liquid went down. He noticed his fingers tapping on the table and stopped them. Then started up again.

Meredith’s life had been a living nightmare. And he’d blithely made assurances to her that she was fine and safe and just paranoid, promising her a happily-ever-after that he’d had no way of providing.

He’d been so self-righteous. So sure he knew better than she.

He hadn’t had a clue.

And maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough to explain her past to him. Except what more could she have said? She’d told him Smith was a decorated cop. That he’d stalked her from state to state....

“She used the number, Max. About a year later. She had bruises all over her arms, and that’s just what he could see, but he said she moved like an eighty-year-old woman so he was pretty sure there were cracked or broken bones involved. He offered to get her medical help. She refused, said she didn’t have time. She wanted a new identity. He gave her one. Said he heard from her a few more times after that. He couldn’t remember if it was three or four, but that each time he’d send her new papers, no questions asked.”

A burst of blood filled his mouth. He was gritting his teeth so hard he could barely part them to get words out when he asked, “Will he testify?”

“I don’t think so. Even if he did, his testimony would never hold up in court. He’s living on drug money. And clearly still has illegal connections. He also loses credibility because he’d accused Smith of philandering with his girl. Too much possibility of tit for tat, and not enough trustworthiness.”

“So we still have nothing.”

“We may not have enough yet for a conviction, but we have plenty enough to know that Steve Smith is a very bad man and that’s enough to get badges working for you in two states, Max. We’re going to find this guy. I promise you. And then your Meri will be free to come back to you.”

He shook his head.

“What?”

“Funny, I’ve managed to finally convince you that Steve was behind her going, that she’d never just have left of her own accord, that she didn’t want out of our marriage, that her paranoia was mostly a product of her imagination and that, first and foremost, she trusted me and would come to me before she’d ever do anything, most particularly before she’d leave me....”

She’d promised. She knew his aversion to opening up to the once-in-a-lifetime kind of love a second time. Even after he’d been lucky enough to find such a love twice in one lifetime. She’d known he’d rather die than go through losing a second wife.

“You live your love, Max. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man as true to your marriage and commitments, as true to your heart, as you are. You give yourself to a woman and you are all hers.”

Again he shook his head. “I’d convinced myself we’d had some divine connection,” he said slowly, helping himself to the rest of her bottle of beer and barely noticing when she got up to get two more. The last two.

“But I’m beginning to think that it was only that—me convincing myself—and not some larger-than-life love holding us together. I needed to believe it was there so that I could believe it would hold us together no matter what, even after death. That way I’d never lose her. After Jill...I couldn’t love another woman if I was going to lose her.

“My conviction was fear-based,” he said now, his bare foot accidentally brushing up against Chantel’s laced hiking boot under the table. Even in the summer Chantel wore jeans and hiking boots.

He’d never asked why.

“You’re saying you didn’t love Meredith?” she asked.

“Hell, no! Of course I loved her. Love her,” he corrected himself.

“So you’re doubting that she loved you.”

“No, I’m realizing that love isn’t always strong enough to overcome all the challenges life hands us. Meredith left me of her own accord, Chantel. You were right. She came here today for a reason. She left me...something. And now I know.”

“What do you know?”

“That our love wasn’t strong enough to overcome her fears. Or, I guess, mine either. I let mine bury my head in the sand rather than helping her deal with hers.”

“So you don’t think Steve is behind her leaving? Because I have to tell you, that’s one bad dude, and I don’t think any of us are going to stop hunting him at this point, whether Meredith wants to be with him, or is running from him or even has anything to do with him at all. The man is a danger and has to be taken off the streets.”