“You’ll still have me Tuesday through Sunday. You only have to share on Mondays. And only for ten minutes or so.”

“I don’t know. Ten will turn into twenty. Twenty into thirty. Before you know it, you’ll be famous and you won’t want to have anything to do with us.”

He was teasing, but I wondered if there wasn’t a bit of truthful worry in his tone. We hadn’t left each other’s company on the best of terms. That mixed with me being offered a position in television was enough outside of any plan he’d ever thought up that he was probably about ready to crawl out of his skin.

“That’ll never happen,” I assured him. “The world can have me for ten minutes on Monday nights, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m yours.”

“I hate it when we argue,” he said, out of the blue.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Me, too.”

I made it home early in the afternoon. Linda left a note saying she’d taken the kids to see Felicia and to keep the twins company and out of trouble.

I picked the newspaper up from where I’d left it on the floor early in the morning. It’d been ages since I’d read the paper and had a cup of coffee, and at the moment it sounded like the perfect thing to do.

I was curled up on a couch in the library, coffee at my side, when I flipped to the political section. I almost missed it. If it hadn’t been for the paper crinkling up at just the right spot, I never would have seen it. But the paper crinkled and as I was straightening it out, I realized my thumb was beside a picture of Nathaniel.

My hands shook as I looked closer. He wasn’t the subject of the picture; that honor belonged to the council member who’d just been accused of misuse of public funds. Nathaniel simply had the misfortune of being seated nearby in the photograph of a fund-raising dinner. Nathaniel and his dinner date, that was.

Charlene. She was gorgeous in that naturally beautiful way some women were born with. I remembered from seeing her in person, but it was even more obvious from the profile picture. And while that was irritating, it was the look captured unknowingly by the photographer that made my chest tight. Nathaniel and his date were gazing into each other’s eyes, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

I set the paper down. Was it taken the day I saw them in the bar or some other time? I couldn’t make out exactly what Nathaniel was wearing, but I assumed it was taken in Delaware.

I didn’t like the thoughts forming in my head. While I knew, I knew, he would never cheat on me, the fact remained he’d had dinner, or lunch, alone with a woman and he hadn’t told me about it. That itself didn’t sit well.

Circumstantial evidence, one part of my brain said.

Still pretty damning, said another.

I should call him. Call him up and talk about it. But the more I thought about, the less it sounded like a good idea. There wasn’t any way to bring it up that didn’t sound accusatory. And we’d already fought over her once. Besides, I knew it was nothing.

The sound of Linda pulling into the driveway caused Apollo to bark and I decided to think about Charlene and Nathaniel later.

I found my chance to bring it up later that night. I’d put the kids to bed and everything was quiet. Nathaniel was in his office working. I picked the newspaper up from where I’d left it on my desk and opened it to his picture.

He looked up when I entered the room. “Abby?”

I put the paper down so he could see the picture. “Was this taken while we were in Delaware?”

His eyes widened as he looked down. “Damn, I didn’t see a camera.”

“Really? That’s how you’re going to answer? You didn’t see a camera?”

He picked up the paper and looked closer. “Yes, this was taken while we were in Delaware.”

I crossed my arms and waited.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he continued and he sounded tired. “We’ve already argued about her once. I really don’t feel like rehashing it again.”

I sat down in the leather chair across from his desk. “Then let’s not rehash it. Tell me what your business is with her.”

His lips pressed together tightly and for a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t say anything. But then he sighed. “I offered her a position.”

I shot up. “You what?”

“Running the nonprofit.”

Shit. It really was the nonprofit. I started pacing. And he’d offered her a job? She was never going to go away and I’d have to hear about her and talk with her and be sociable. “Why would you do that?”