The Contract (The Contract 1)

I headed to the stairs, taking them two at a time, making a beeline for the kitchen, calling for Katy. She didn’t respond, and the room was deserted.

I stood, panicked. She must have gone out—maybe to the store. There were several reasons for her to have left the condo. I hurried to the entryway. Her car keys were on the hook.

She must have gone for a walk, I told myself.

I headed back to the kitchen toward the coffee maker. She had shown me how to use it, so at least I could make a pot of coffee. It was misty out, the clouds low and dark. She’d need the heat of a hot drink when she returned.

Except, when I reached for the pot, I saw her phone sitting on the counter. Beside it, her condo keys. My hand shook as I picked them up. Why would she leave her keys? How would she get into the condo?

I looked back to the counter. It was all there. The bankcards and the checkbook I’d given her. The copy of her contract. She had left it all because she had left me.

A glint of light caught my eye, and I leaned forward to pick up her rings.

My memory flashed with images of Katy. Handing her the box and telling her I wasn’t going down on one knee. The look on her face when I slid the band on her finger the day I married her for circumstance and not love. She had looked beautiful, but I never told her. There were many things I never told her.

So many things I would never have the chance to tell her—because she was gone.RICHARD

I KNEW SHE WASN’T THERE, yet I still checked every inch of the condo. When I looked in her dresser and closet, most of the new clothes I purchased for her remained, but some were missing. Her two still-to-be-unpacked boxes were in her closet, some of her toiletries were in the bathroom, but the one suitcase she had was missing. I remembered hearing drawers opening and shutting last night. What I thought was her organizing and moving things, was in fact, her preparing to leave me.

I sat down on the edge of her bed with my head in my hands.

Why? Why would she sleep with me when she knew she was going to leave? Why did she leave?

I cursed under my breath—the answer to that was obvious. Penny was dead. She no longer had to provide for her, which meant she no longer had to keep up the pretense of being in love with me.

We had, I thought, been getting along well. I was sure she was feeling something. Why hadn’t she talked to me?

I barked out a laugh in the empty room. Of course, she wouldn’t come and talk to me. When had I ever let her know she could? We had become friendly enemies, united in our common goal. Now that goal had changed for her. I might have planned to talk to her, but she had no idea of how I felt. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it; how much my emotions had changed.

The question I kept shouting in my head, the one that didn’t make sense was: Why did she sleep with me?

The air in my lungs turned to ice as memories of last night played in my head. She had been a virgin—and I hadn’t worn protection. I’d been so caught up in the moment—in Katy—I hadn’t thought about it until this instant. I had taken her with no condom. I always wore a condom—there was never any discussion with my partners.

What were the chances of her being on birth control? I gripped the back of my neck in panic. What were the chances of her getting pregnant?

She was gone. I had no idea where she was, no idea if she was pregnant. Nor did I have any idea how I would react if she were expecting my baby.

Would she even think about that probability?

I hurried to the den, my anxiety now higher than ever, switching on the laptop. I did a quick history check, wondering if she had used it to book a flight or a train ticket, but I found nothing. I did a check of our bank accounts, sitting back in amazement when I saw she had withdrawn twenty thousand dollars yesterday. I remembered the walk she took in the afternoon, and how she insisted on going alone. She had gone to the bank and withdrawn or transferred the money. Two months’ “salary” was all she took. As I scrolled through her account, I noticed that, other than expenses for Penny, she had never touched a cent of the money. She had spent nothing on herself. She hadn’t taken anything for her future.

I was more confused than ever. She didn’t want my money. She didn’t want me. What did she want?