“Be well, Kate.” Elliott had no love in his heart for the woman anymore. She was selfish and greedy. Worse than this, she branded herself as a submissive, but she was anything but that. She simply didn’t have a heart to give herself over that way.
Not in the way that Mary had.
As Kate left the table, Ana scoffed. “Still a bitch. Still after anything and everything to make her cold heart happy.”
Elliott gulped his wine, not needing the reminder of Kate tonight. At fifty years old, his personal life was so off from what he wanted it to be. The clear-cut reminder that he was still very much alone.
Ana finally sighed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “You know, no matter how miserable you are right now, things could be a lot worse.”
Elliott arched a brow. “Worse how?”
Ana gestured toward his ex-wife. “You could sti
ll be with that bitch.”
His gaze slid to Kate and he watched her fawn all over her toy. He didn’t miss her, or what their marriage had been. Yet it was as if he stared at his life, which was so empty. Nothing had changed since he ended his marriage with Kate. He might be wealthier, but that was all he had to show for it.
At one time that would’ve been enough. It wasn’t any longer.
Elliott wanted more. He needed the woman who burned under his touch. “You’re right,” he said, turning to his sister. He raised his wineglass, tilting it toward her. Nothing like his sister putting things into perspective. “That life would be worse.”
Chapter Fifteen
The wind breezed through Mary’s Mercedes convertible as she glanced over to the flowers on the passenger seat. This morning, just after her coffee break at work, Elliott had a couple dozen red roses delivered. Since she hadn’t seen him since last weekend, they came as a surprise, but the card with them was more meaningful than the flowers.
Do this for YOU.
Yours,
Elliott.
When she’d flipped over the card, she had discovered a business card to a local widows’ group. The gesture had left her somewhat flabbergasted for a few minutes, standing in the receptionist area of her doctor’s office.
The meeting was every Saturday morning, which was tomorrow. Mary didn’t know if she’d go. She didn’t even know how she felt about Elliott sending the flowers, or the fact that he’d suggested she should go to a widows’ group.
The only thing she did know was that she needed to go to a place where things made her mind quiet. The last week had been mentally and physically exhausting. Her thoughts conflicted with her emotions, and she’d never felt so undone.
She missed Charles.
She also missed Elliott.
His smile. His gentle care. His Dominant touch.
Elliott had stayed on her mind all week, and Mary had never been so happy that her workweek was over so she could get out of Vegas. With her heart and mind constantly at battle, she just needed it all to stop.
She slowed the car on the paved road lined with palm trees and a sense of relief fluttered through her. Once she pulled into the driveway of her lake house, the quaint, two-story yellow-brick house with the Spanish roof brought immediate warmth to her soul.
Though the house was only a couple thousand square feet, it was perfect. It had enough bedrooms for the family and an open-concept living room and small kitchen, where they could be together. She wouldn’t change a single thing about this house.
She and Charles bought the property when the kids were young to give them a childhood outside of the city. Now it was her sanctuary. Her safe place that was all hers and where troubles didn’t follow her. She inhaled the hot, dry air as she exited the car, then she strode around the side of the house on the cobblestone pathway toward the backyard. Palm trees filled her grass yard, and seeing that the grass was wet, she realized the sprinkler system had recently come on.
The sun beat down on her shoulders as she gazed at the couple of boats drifting down Lake Las Vegas. Her small sailboat was tied up at the wooden dock near the beach. Then her gaze went straight to the eucalyptus tree by the water.
Charles wasn’t buried there—he was buried in his family’s plot in Vegas—but Mary had thought planting a tree in Charles’s honor at the lake house was a perfect sentiment. It had been a family affair, and that day was full of smiles, as well as tears.
Seeing how big the tree was now only reminded her how much time had passed since Charles left her. When she reached the tree, she dropped to her knees and read the plaque placed in the grass in front of the trunk…
For Charles, a man who made this house into a home.