“Of course you did!” she almost shouted. “It’s been a bizarre few weeks.” She ran her fingers down his arm, silently asking him to take her hand.
He didn’t.
“I’ve been a little out of my head,” she tried again, “but inside I’m still the person I’ve always been.”
“Maybe I’ve just never really stopped to find out exactly who that is.”
Stepping back, Becca wrapped her arms around herself, chilled in the white satin gown she was wearing. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure.”
Becca, horrified and frightened beyond belief, didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t even think.
“Let’s just get some rest.” Will’s voice sounded as weary as she felt. “We can talk about this later.”
She couldn’t go to bed, couldn’t lie there alone in the dark, tormented by waking nightmares.
“Do you want a divorce?” She had no idea where the words came from. Or the strength to say them.
Her heart splintered when she heard his softly—painfully—uttered, “I don’t know.”
“And when do you think you’ll know?” The sudden rush of anger was keeping her alive. Breathing.
“Because I kind of need to know, seeing that I’ve got more than just me to think about.”
“We both have more than just ourselves to think about, Becca.”
She accepted the reprimand because she deserved it. Will was the most responsible man she’d ever met. He’d never desert his child. Or her, if she needed him.
He’d never make an appointment to have his child aborted, either. Not without far more conclusive evidence than she’d had.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Her agonized heart found a moment’s solace when Will’s head jerked up, his eyes piercing her even through the darkness surrounding them. “Of course not!” he said.
He’d obviously never even considered the idea. She took courage from that. If Will’s thoughts were turned toward divorce, they hadn’t traveled very far along that road.
In the long run, it meant nothing, only that he hadn’t reached the end of his soul-searching journey—which she’d already known. It changed nothing. She’d still done something, contemplated doing something, that had changed her in his eyes.
And maybe in her own, too.
“Let’s just give this all some time to settle, eh, Bec?” Will drew his hand along the side of her face.
Unable to help herself, Becca leaned into the caress. She allowed him to gently dry her tears, too, when they began to spill silently down her cheeks.
AFTER ONE of the longest weekends of his life, Will discovered that Monday morning seemed even longer. He sat at his desk, in the presidential suite of offices at Montford University. He signed papers, talked to important people, dictated a day’s worth of work for his secretary.
And watched the clock.
He spoke with John Strickland on the phone. The architect was going to be making a second trip to Arizona. Will invited him for another round of golf after they finished the work Strickland was coming to do.
And he watched the clock.
Montford had to hire a new English professor, and because of the university’s mission to uphold only the highest standards, Will personally looked over each application before the department chairs began the interview process. Distracted though he was, one of them caught his attention. Dr. Christine Evans was overqualified for the entry-level professorship position. He couldn’t help wondering why the woman was leaving a more prominent position in Boston to come to Montford.
But he couldn’t find any reason not to grant her that chance. Her portfolio was impeccable. He’d be the final part of the interview process if, indeed, the department chose to hire Dr. Evans. If there was a problem, he’d be able to ferret it out then. Giving the application his approval, he glanced again at his watch.
It was only eleven o’clock. The day was crawling by.