“Henry, what are you doing?”
He moved toward the bathroom. “I’ve got one night. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to clean you up and then I’m going to eat your pussy until you can’t order me out of our bed.”
“You can stay.” If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him to go back to the couch. “I’m fixing up the guest room while you’re gone. Then you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Then I’ll eat your pussy every fucking night,” he vowed. “I told you I’m not giving up. God, I’m going to miss you.”
She would miss him, too, but the words stuck in her throat.
She would miss him.
She hoped she wouldn’t miss him forever.
Fall
Chapter Seven
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Henry had left, and she wasn’t sure if she missed him or not.
Well, she was sure she missed her husband, but she didn’t miss the problems they had. Life had settled into a comfortable routine, and there were even days when she managed to forget that he’d lied to her.
When she really thought about it, what she liked was the numbness she’d found, and she knew that was a problem. She just couldn’t seem to find her way out of it. While Henry was gone, she didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to think.
Twenty-one days without him. Did she honestly think she could handle a lifetime of this?
The first week had been pretty easy. She’d spent her time changing the craft room into a guest room. Michael had driven her around in his big truck, picking up a mattress and bedding that Michael would use, and then Henry.
If she could hold out.
“I’ve checked the yard. If you want to sit outside for a while, it’s safe enough,” a low voice rumbled.
This was her life now. She had to make sure no evil was lurking before she did something as simple as sitting on her back porch watching the river go by.
Michael Novack took his job far too seriously. He shadowed her everywhere she went. He’d even stopped her from going to the ladies’ room at Stella’s until he was sure it was secure. She foresaw problems as she got bigger.
Right now her baby was only the size of an apple, but from what she’d read that baby would soon use her bladder as a trampoline, and then Michael was going to be in trouble because she wouldn’t care that an assassin could be waiting for her. She would use that bathroom.
“Thank you, Michael. Would you like a cup of tea?” She poured herself a cup of ginger tea. For some reason she found comfort in drinking something before bedtime. It used to be wine. She and Henry would sit together side by side and enjoy a glass of wine as they went over the day’s events.
What had his day been like? What was he doing even as she made tea and prepared for bed? Was he getting back into his former lifestyle? Was he surrounded by beautiful women, his heart pounding with excitement?
“I think I’ll pass on the tea.” Michael had shaved weeks ago, but his beard was already growing back in. They made an odd pair. Michael was a mass of muscle in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket most of the time, while she was most comfortable in her airy skirts and loose blouses and Birkenstocks. The weather was already starting to turn, the chill becoming clear in the air. “But dinner was actually pretty good. I didn’t know I liked eggplant.”
Most people didn’t. It was a highly underused vegetable, in her opinion. She took her tea and started for the back door. “It’s Henry’s favorite. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m making pasta and veggies tomorrow night.”
He followed her out, his footsteps resounding through the cabin. “I look forward to it. It’s nice to have something homemade. I’m afraid I’ve been living off beans and canned chili for a while. Did Henry reach out to you today? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” All he would tell her was his original plan hadn’t worked out, and he needed to go down to Mexico. Talking to her husband was frustrating these days. She wanted to know what was going on, and he would simply tell her he couldn’t talk about it. It had been her plan. She’d helped him, but now he was shutting her out. “I wonder if he’s going to come home at all.”
“Because of the dudes who showed up last week?” Michael eased himself into the Adirondack chair Henry always used.
It had been two men in black suits. They’d looked utterly out of place standing on her porch asking if they could talk to…Henry Flanders. The man who’d asked had to look down at his notes to remember Henry’s name. His fake name. She was sure they knew John Bishop. But she hadn’t pointed that out. She’d done exactly as instructed. She’d told them Henry was hiking in the woods, thinking about his life. Actually she’d told them he was on walkabout until he figured his ass out.
It was the kind of thing Rachel would have said. It had the men walking away quickly.
“I told him they’d come looking for him and that they were obviously federal officials of some kind.” She sat back, sipping her tea thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’s decided to hide somewhere else now that we know for sure the Agency is aware of where he is.”
Michael was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“He didn’t send me a note today. He always sends me something. In email or a text, although I have to remember that his number changes all the time. He’s using burners.”
Michael chuckled. “I’m
