The Contract (The Contract 1)

We stood, staring at each other. I began to head toward her—slow, wary steps, until I was in front of her, inches away. Up close, she looked as ravaged as I felt. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and weary, her skin paler than ever, her hair limp and dull.

“You left me.”

“There was no need to stay.”

I frowned. “No need?”

“Graham had already waved your probationary period. Penny died. You didn’t need the cover of our marriage anymore.”

“What did you think I was going to tell people, Katharine? How did you expect me to explain your sudden disappearance?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You always tell me how good you think on your feet, Richard. I assumed you’d tell them I was overwhelmed with losing Penny and went away to clear my head. You could string it along for a while, then tell them we’d been having problems, and I decided not to come back.”

“So you expected me to blame you. Lay it all at your feet.”

She swayed slightly. “What would it matter? I wouldn’t contest it.”

“Of course not. Because you weren’t there.”

“Exactly.”

“But it did matter. It does matter to me.”

Her brow furrowed as she watched me.

I took a step forward, wanting to be near her. Needing to touch her, worried at how fragile she seemed to be.

“You left things behind. Things I would think were important to you.”

“I was going to contact you and ask you to send them—wherever I ended up settling.”

“You didn’t take your car or bankcard. How were you planning on accessing the rest of your money?”

She stuck out her stubborn chin. “I took what I earned.”

“No, you earned so much more, Katharine.”

Her lips trembled. “Why are you here? H–How did you find me?”

“I came here for you. A friend suggested I start at the beginning.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Graham told me where to find you.”

“Graham?” She frowned, looking confused. “How . . . how did he know?”

“He had a suspicion, and because he listened better than I ever did, he knew the answer was in our home. He told me to look. He refused to tell me. He said I had to figure all this out on my own.”

“I–I don’t understand.”

“After you left, I did a lot of thinking. I wallowed some, drank too much, and ran around looking for you. Finally, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?”

“I finally understood what you were feeling. My life had become one lie after another. I couldn’t tell where reality ended and the lies began anymore. Even at my worst, when I was a complete bastard, I was honest about it. I had been hiding for so long and I didn’t want to hide anymore. I told Graham you left me.”

A tear ran down her face.

“Then I told him everything. Every single, fucking lie.”

She gasped. “No! Richard—why did you do that? You had it all. Everything you wanted! Everything you worked so hard for! Why did you throw it away?”

I grasped her arms, shaking her a little. “Don’t you get it, Katharine? Don’t you see?”

“See what?” she cried.

“I didn’t have everything! Not without you! I had nothing, and without you, it all meant nothing! The one real thing I had, the one honest, real thing was you!”

Her eyes grew round and she shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I came here for you.”

“Why? You don’t need me.”

I ran my hands up her arms, over her shoulders and neck, cupping her face—her tired, beautiful face—between my palms. “I do need you.” I met her weary gaze with my determined one, speaking the words I had only ever spoken once in my lifetime. Back then, I spoke them with a childish mindset, and the words really had no meaning. Now though—they meant everything.

“I love you, Katharine.”

Her hands wrapped around my wrists, the doubt plain on her panicked face. “No,” she breathed.

I leaned my forehead to hers. “I do. I need you so much. I miss my friend, my wife. I miss you.”

A wild sob broke from her throat. I gathered her in my arms, refusing to allow her to escape. She pushed at my chest, fighting against the comfort I needed to give her.

“You can’t run. I’ll follow you, sweetheart. I’ll follow you anywhere.” I pressed a kiss to her head. “Don’t leave me alone again, my Katy. I couldn’t bear it.”

She broke. Flinging her arms around my neck, she buried her face in my chest as hot tears soaked my shirt. I lifted her into my arms, and carried her across the hard sand toward the bright blue cottage at the end. It was the one with the white shutters she wrote about in her journal.

I held her tight, dropping light kisses on her head. I wasn’t letting her go.The rustic cottage was exactly how I pictured it in my head from the description in her journal. A well-worn sofa and chair were in front of a fireplace. To the left was a rudimentary kitchen with a table and two chairs. An open door led to a small bedroom, and beside it, a bathroom. That was the entire cottage. I sat Katy on the sofa and turned to the fireplace. Soot and smoke from years of use had settled into the stone and brick, turning the entire mantle a dull gray. I added some logs and kindling, wanting a fire to warm up the cool interior.