When Valentines Collide by Adrianne Byrd Read Free Book Online

Jumping to her girl’s defense was only natural.
    But she said nothing.
    In a way, the quiet was more unsettling than any explosion.
    â€œBaby?”
    â€œDo you think he’ll have an affair?”
    Seth drew in a deep breath while he replayed what he’d seen in Matt’s dressing room and what he knew of his friend’s character. He wanted to say “no, absolutely not,” but something kept the words from falling from his lips.
    Edie sat up. When their eyes met again, Seth read the sadness she felt for her friend. It had nothing to do with book sales or public image.
    â€œWe have to try harder,” she whispered. “Everyone knows they’re soul mates.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean anything, if they don’t know they’re soul mates,” he reasoned, caressing her arm. “We can lead deer to water, but we can’t make them drink.”
    With a slow nod, she turned toward the window. As she gazed out at the full moon, Seth watched as a smile crept across her face.
    â€œWe’re going to have to do more than just lead them to the water,” she said.
    Seth frowned, lost on her meaning.
    Edie faced him again. “We’re going to have to throw them in.”

Chapter 6
    S omewhere around two a.m., Matthew began to worry. Would this be the night Chanté decided not to come home? He held his breath as his eyes scanned the dimly lit property. For the last five months he tried to prepare himself for such an occasion, but at this moment he realized he could never truly be prepared for that.
    Day after day, he taught and counseled couples on how to rebuild a broken marriage, but he was absolutely clueless on how to fix his own. The sudden beam of a car’s headlights piercing the night made Matthew’s shoulders deflate with relief.
    His marriage would see another day. Break out the champagne.
    Matthew moved away from the window and returned to the sofa. He opened his laptop and spread out a folder of paperwork around him. When the door opened, his heartbeat sped up while he questioned if his wife would buy his “working late” act.
    The door closed and he heard the locks engage. Soon their nightly script of light bantering would ensue.
    Juvenile—yes. Necessary—absolutely.
    However, at the sound of Chanté’s heels clicking up the stairs, Matthew realized there was an unexpected change in the script. He removed the computer from his lap and rushed to the living room’s archway.
    â€œI’m glad to see that you remembered our address,” he quipped, crossing his arms. He mentally berated himself for saying the words with blatant concern. He was supposed to sound aloof and nonchalant.
    Chanté stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to face him. “Can we not do this tonight? I’m really tired.”
    Matthew moved from the archway, instantly concerned about the overwhelming sadness in her eyes and her slumped posture.
    â€œIs there…?” He stopped himself at her sudden flash of anger.
    â€œI think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”
    He had no response for the soft reprimand. All he could do was watch her turn and climb the rest of her stairs. Exactly one minute later, her high scream filled the entire house.
    Matt’s heart leaped into the center of his chest as he flew up the stairs. When he rounded the corner to Chanté’s room, he quickly skidded to a stop while his eyes grew wide as silver dollars.
    The entire room looked as if a tornado had hit. Curtains were pulled from their rods, paper, cotton and goose feathers were spawned across the floor—along with most of the bedding.
    â€œWhat the hell happened in here?” Matthew asked, though the moment the question was out of his mouth, he suspected the answer.
    Chanté rounded on him with fire in her eyes. “You know damn well what happened. You did this!” She stalked toward him.
    Raising his hands in surrender,