Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) by Christie Craig Read Free Book Online Page A

asked.
    “Who has the worst story.” She lifted an eyebrow and studied him accusingly.
    He smiled. It was a nice smile, too.
    “No,” he said. “I hadn’t looked at it like that, but if it was a competition, I’d win.”
    When his smile faded, she saw it, the pain in his eyes. It reminded her of what she often saw when she looked in the mirror. That ‘done wrong’ look.
    “You haven’t heard my story yet,” she said, not really wanting to win the competition, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. That he hadn’t been the only one done wrong.
    “Oh, come on. No way in hell can you beat that story.”

Chapter Five
     
     
    She sat up higher, it only hurt a little bit, and pulled a knee up to her chest and hugged it. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
    “Try me,” he said and almost had a playful look in his eyes.
    “But you haven’t finished.”
    “Finished what?” he asked.
    “Why do I scare you?”
    He looked at her. “Because you aren’t the type a man can love and leave. And I’m not the staying kind anymore.”
    She hesitated for one second. “Neither was my fiancé,” she said.
    “What?” He seemed to mull over what she said. “What did he do? Bail out on the wedding day?”
    “Not quite,” she said.
    “Come on, don’t be Mary Anne. I showed you mine. Show me yours.” His tone had a bit of tease to it.
    “He killed himself a week before the wedding.”
    Her dream guy’s playful look faded and he frowned. “Damn, that would sting.”
    “Ya think?” she asked and huffed. Suddenly, the weight of the conversation felt too heavy. “So, Mary Anne left you with your pants around your ankles.”
    “Yeah,” he said, but she saw the emotion in his eyes. Normally she hated the look of pity in people’s eyes. For the longest time, everyone who knew her had that same look. But for some strange reason, the reflection of sadness in his eyes didn’t bother her like everyone else’s. Maybe because his emotion was slightly different. Not so much pity as empathy.
    He looked at her and she saw it, the questions. “Don’t, please.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Ask.”
    “Ask what?”
    “Had he been depressed? Had he shown any signs? Why did he do it? Why didn’t I do something to stop him?”
    “I didn’t ask,” he said.
    “Everyone else did.” She looked down at the comforter. “And I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t even know he was taking medicine for depression.”
    “That’s tough,” he said.
    She looked up at him. “Is she in jail now?”
    “Mary Anne?” he asked and kind of chuckled.
    “No, your wife.”
    “Ex-wife. And no, when they went to tape the conversation, she never outright said it. It was enough for me to know it was true, but not enough to make a solid case.”
    “What did you do?” she asked.
    “I confronted her. She denied it, of course. Then she packed her bags and left that same day.”
    “That’s awful,” she said.
    The room grew quiet and she saw him look at the gifts in her bedroom chair. “So he didn’t leave a note or anything? And you never found any answers?”
    “No. And everyone wanted one. If I had a ten dollar bill for everyone who asked me . . . Why? Why did he do it? What happened? I’d be driving a really nice car.”
    “What kind?”
    “What?” she asked.
    “What kind of car?”
    “I don’t know. Something expensive.”
    He smiled. She sensed it was his way of saying she didn’t have to talk about it anymore.
    She paused and she should have taken him up on the offer, but she couldn’t. For the first time, she wanted to tell someone. It almost felt right. “I had nothing to offer them. And you have no idea how much I wished I had the answer. I’m left to wonder, and believe me, I’ve wondered a lot. I wondered if he suddenly realized he was gay. If he realized he loved someone else. Did the idea of being married to me make him—?”
    “That couldn’t be it,” he said and