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Of course, Michael's sleeping with other women hadn't helped.

“I'm sorry, Michael. I think this is for the best.”

“Good. I had the papers drawn up. Now, even though I made all the money, I'll do my best to give you something you can live on.”

I can make my own money,
she thought. But then, she revised:
I can make my own money later. Let me get some of his first. I earned it.

“Thanks.”

“I'll give you a call later in the week when everything is in order. You will still have this phone number, won't you? You won't throw it out and get another one?”

“No, Michael, I'll keep this phone.”

“Good, because that's just the sort of thing I would expect you to do.” She heard him take a deep breath. “Mallory, I can't tell you how great it feels for us to talk like this. It will be good to see you again.”

“Sure.” It will be good to sign those divorce papers.

“A little enthusiasm, Mal.
You're
the one who ran away from
me
, remember? You're lucky I'm even considering giving you anything in this divorce. I'm way too forgiving of you, Mal.”

“I'm very grateful, Michael.”

“Well, I should go. I told Bunny I'd go to her tennis tournament. Her husband is working so much, and I know what it's like to have a spouse who doesn't support you.”

Mal hit her head against the pillow. “Well, you won't have to worry about that for long.”

Michael laughed. “I won't miss that sense of humor, but it has been good to talk to you. I'll call you later. Don't lose your phone.”

Mal only just resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room—it wouldn't do to prove Michael right by calling him with a new phone number. Instead, she flopped back on the bed, threw her arm up over her eyes, and cried. She tried to be quiet about it, but little sobs kept escaping.

She couldn't stop crying. She was getting divorced—the best news she had heard since, well, since Michael had agreed to a separation. But Michael was the same Michael—not understanding her, not seeing her at all, not getting why her square peg couldn't fit into his round hole. She laughed a little at the unfortunate metaphor. Then she cried again—he wouldn't miss her sense of humor. God, what a dick. Why the hell had she put up with him for so long?

Because she'd believed him. She'd believed everything he said about her—that she was fat, that she was clumsy, that she was stupid. She'd believed him when he told her that she was lucky to be with someone as successful and as driven as him, someone who didn't mind that his wife was a complete failure. He would just have to be successful enough for both of them.

Peanut whined and put his head on her stomach. She leaned up on her elbows, and he lifted those big doggy eyes to her. “I was a real idiot, Peanut.” Peanut whined again. “No, listen, it's okay. Because I'm done with Michael now. And now I can do whatever I want. I can go anywhere. I've never been so happy.”

And she broke down in tears.

 

 

Libby smacked Keith on his rear and told him to sit down and use utensils like a human being.

“I'm in a hurry,” he said around a mouthful of toast.

“That's no reason to eat like an animal. Sit. Or no more food.”

He sat down with the rest of the family in a huff, but the huff exacerbated his headache, so he slowed down, chewed, swallowed, and reached for the coffee.

He was in a hurry, that was true. He had woken up late, and with a raging headache. Then he had remembered why he had been up so late and why his head hurt so badly. Beer tent. Dancing. Mal.

He shouldn't have kissed her. If he thought back to last night, which he tried not to do at the family breakfast table, he could remember that really, it was Mal who'd started it. She'd kissed him first. But it didn't seem very gentlemanly of him to admit that. Anyway,
she
was the one who was engaged, not him. So what if he'd been looking at her curves since she got here. So what if he'd kissed her back because he had been dreaming of doing that for the past few days.

He heard the water shut off upstairs, which meant Mal was getting out of the shower. Which meant she was wet. Which also meant she would be down soon. Keith wanted to be long gone when she got here.

“You still repairing fences today?” he asked Chase, sitting across the table next to a very bleary-looking Katie.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” said Libby.

“Yeah, there's just a big post down on the far end of the property. Shouldn't take long,” Chase said. With his mouth full.

“I'll help you.”

“I think Cal wants to—”

“Let him help you,” Cal grumbled. “I'm sick of your jabbering. If I wanted to talk while I worked, I'd join a damn quilting bee.”

“Have some more coffee, Cal.”

“That'll help.” Katie snorted. She was looking a little green this morning. In fact, Keith thought she was wearing the same shirt she had been wearing last night at the fair. He shook his head.
Don't even think about that.

“Who wants more eggs?” Libby asked. Every hand went up, and she started over to the table with the pan, dishing out eggs to her surly, hung over family.

“Morning.”

Damn,
Keith thought. Mal stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing those same old jeans and T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but he could see that it was still wet. She had dark circles under her eyes. She didn't look as bad as he felt, but close. He shouldn't have asked for more eggs.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Libby said. “Come on over and get some eggs. There's plenty. Coffee's in the pot.”

Mal looked at the coffeepot, then at Libby and the Carsons, all more or less silently shoveling breakfast into their faces. And she burst into tears.

Keith jumped out of his seat, and the others looked up at him. In that instant, they all noticed Mal crying. Keith sat back down.
Leave her be,
he thought.

“I'm sorry,” she said to the table of staring faces. “I thought I could . . . But I just . . . And then Luke said . . . I'm sorry. I can't.” She turned to go, but Peanut was standing behind her and she tried to stop herself from stepping on him. But she ended up going face-first onto the floor.

Keith was really on his feet this time, and so was everyone else at the table. He reached her first, pulled her up to a seated position. Now she was laughing.

“Jeez, Mal.”

She put her hand on his arm, steadying herself as she caught her breath. He looked over his shoulder at his family.

Katie shrugged. “She's losing it.”

Libby shooed them all out of the way and guided Mal to her feet. Then Libby did what she did best, what Keith always remembered her doing even when he thought he was too big or too tough for it. She folded her arms around Mal and pulled her head down to her shoulder, and gently rocked back and forth. Mal sobbed a little more, then took a deep, shuddering sigh and lifted her head up.

“Come have some breakfast,” Libby said. “You'll feel better with some food in you. Then you can tell us all about it.”

Mal nodded, then let Miss Libby lead her into the kitchen by the hand. She shooed Keith out of his seat and sat Mal down.

Mal started talking before she took her first mouthful of food.

“I'm not engaged to Luke. I'm already married.”

“I don't like being kicked out of my own house,” Cal muttered as he saddled his horse. The big black mare snorted and shifted, so Cal slowed down, patted her gently.

“Did you want to sit in there with those waterworks? I don't think I've ever seen someone cry so much before.” Chase was gathering supplies, throwing tools and hinges into a big white plastic bucket. “Keith, are you ready to go or what?”

Keith was already sitting on his horse, which was walking in agitated little circles right outside the barn.

“Son, you better calm down or that horse is gonna throw you.”

Duchess hadn't thrown him in the sixteen years he'd known her, and he'd met her when Dr. Monroe delivered her right in that barn. Duchess had made him want to be a vet. Duchess wouldn't mind a little frustration over lusting after a woman you'd thought was your brother's fiancée but turned out to be someone else's wife.

“Are we fixing those fences or what?”

“Keith, there's really not that much left. I just have to check that outer perimeter by the creek, but I told you, I think it'll hold up another winter.” Chase was mounting his horse, Bruiser, and coming out of the barn, supplies in tow.

Keith didn't say anything, just leaned forward to try to soothe Duchess. He did need to calm down.

“But if you need to ride, don't let me stop you.”

“Why would I need to ride?”

“You seem a little agitated.”

Keith didn't say anything, just looked toward the house.

“She really had us all fooled, didn't she?” Chase said. “I mean, I wasn't real convinced that Luke was that serious about her, but I never would have guessed that she's already married.”

“Are you boys done jabbering, or should I send the staff out to fix the fence?”

Keith turned Duchess and followed Chase and his father out to mend the broken fence.

 

 

Mal was sitting in the kitchen, clutching a mug of coffee like a lifeline. Libby had shooed the men out, but Katie sat next to her at the table, half pissed at having been duped, half curious at Mal's story. So Mal started at the beginning. How she met Michael in college. How she helped him pass history. How, when her parents were killed in a car crash, he took care of her.

“Oh, bless your heart, you were all alone,” said Libby, reaching across the table for her hand.

Michael had been wonderful then. When the RA came up to give her the news, she was inconsolable. She tried to get Mal to the counseling center, or at least to talk to the house mother, but the only one who got her to calm down was Michael. He came into her room and held her. She vaguely remembered hearing him talk to the others who came through, asking her roommate to crash elsewhere, sending the RA out for food. That night he changed her into her pajamas and tucked her into bed like she was a child. She didn't want him to leave. So he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed with her, even though it was against dorm rules for him to spend the night. He kissed her forehead, held her close, and said, “I'll take care of you now.”

She had liked him pretty well before, but that was when she fell in love with him.

“He did everything for me. He arranged for me to defer my exams, he made me eat. I'm pretty sure he even showered me a few times. I felt like I owed him a debt of gratitude for how truly wonderful he was then.”

Libby shook her head. “He was just doing what any man should do in a crisis. Taking care of his partner. There's no debt to be repaid. You would have done the same for him.”

Mal looked up at her. How could she explain the way Michael made her repay that debt? How his expectations of gratitude and entitlement made him unbearable?

So she told them the rest. How they moved to Maryland even though she wasn't finished with school, and how he insisted they get married first. How he sold her parents' house to finance the move. How she worked, and then she stopped working. How she dyed her hair, shopped, joined committees.

“I did everything he asked, but it was never right. I joined a book club at the library, and he said that was beneath me, that he made enough money so I didn't need to get my books for free. He would buy me all the books I wanted. He wouldn't even let me return the book,” Mal said with a sad laugh.

“Are you kidding me? Why didn't you just return the book? While he was at work or something?” Katie was giving her an incredulous look. She wasn't sure if it was directed at her or Michael.

“If I ‘defied' him—his word—he would never let me forget it. He wouldn't let me forget how he worked hard, how he was the only one who brought in money—”

“He wouldn't let you work!”

“—and then he would remember some other stupid thing I did, and how I had let myself go since we got married. It just became easier to do what he wanted. I think that book is still in the house somewhere. I should go return it.”

“He sounds like a toad,” Katie said.

“Don't insult toads, dear,” said Libby.

“I don't understand,” Katie said, leaning back to reach for a biscuit from the basket on the counter. “I mean, look at you. You're funny, you're hot, you're clearly not an idiot—maybe with horses, but you seem to have tamed Peanut, so that says something.”

“Thanks,” said Mal, patting Peanut's head. He had been sitting with his head on her lap for the past hour while Mal spilled her guts.
What a loyal friend,
she thought. Or maybe it's the bacon.

“But that's just it. You stood up to me just fine when I was giving you shit about letting Bob out.”

“Language, Katie,” said Libby, refilling Mal's coffee cup.

“Sorry. And Keith, he tried to take care of your dog problem, and you went behind his back and fixed it yourself. I don't understand how you can stand up for yourself here, but you couldn't even tell your husband you wanted to return a library book.”

“I don't know,” Mal said, fingering Peanut's collar. “I don't. I wish I could figure it out. Maybe it's because here, I don't already know you, and I figured you already had a pretty bad opinion of me, so I had nothing to lose.” And none of the Carsons had Michael's temper, she thought, flinching involuntarily.

“Why on earth would we have a bad opinion of you?” asked Libby.

“Because she showed up out of nowhere, allegedly engaged, and then she let the horse out,” replied Katie, helpfully. “And she doesn't own work boots.”

Mal tried to laugh, but it came out as a halfhearted snort. “Anyway, I knew I wouldn't be staying here. I knew I would never see you guys again. But I had to live with Michael, and it seemed easier just to make the way as smooth as possible.”

“By giving up yourself,” said Libby, stroking Mal's hair. “That's not a marriage, sweetheart. I don't know what that is, but it's no way to live.”

“So are you going back or what?”

Mal looked at Katie. “I should, I guess. But not to stay. Michael's agreed to the divorce. I'm letting him think it was his idea. He's not too thrilled I ran off. I made him look bad.”

Libby patted Mal's hand. “Maybe it's for the best. Some people are just not cut out for marriage.” Mal wasn't sure if she meant her or Michael. She stirred a little sugar in her coffee.

“I still don't get it, Mal. But if you're unhappy with him, you should go back, kick his ass, and move on.” Katie rose from her seat and reached for her jacket on the peg next to the door. “Now this has been real enlightening, but as my dear kind father likes to say, it's time to quit jabbering and get to work.”

She turned before she went out the door. “I'm real sorry that you've had a rough time, Mal. I like you. I think you would have been good for Luke.” Then she headed out to the barn.

“Luke,” Mal said, groaning. “Luke's gonna kill me. I promised I wouldn't tell you guys and that I would stay put until he got back.”

“Well, you can't sit around forever.”

“Although I will sit around until he can give me a ride back to DC. I should probably go get some more clothes, too.” Mal could not think of a single thing that she wanted from Michael's house, but a second pair of jeans was probably in order.

“I tell you, that boy wears me out. I don't understand why girls act so daffy around him. Anyway, I think Katie's right, you'd be good for him. You should marry him.”

“Luke's a good friend,” said Mal. “But he's definitely just a friend.”

Luke was a handsome guy, all right. Strong jaw, piercing eyes, the whole thing. But on the whole, Mal found she preferred guys who were a little rougher, whose haircut maybe wasn't so au courant, whose clothes were a little more careless. Guys with green eyes and dirty jeans who made her feel like they wanted to spend time with her, answering her dingbat questions about farm animals. Guys who kissed her back.

“Ugh,” groaned Mal, planting her forehead on the table. Her headache was definitely back. And she was falling for Keith.

She should probably go to DC to get that divorce.