The Perfect Wife

Plans for a deck turned into plans for a pool, and soon they had the biggest, most impressive house in town.

All right. So Carly was the one who had pushed for the renovations, but Greg had been happy with them. At first, anyway.

“But the new construction wasn’t enough,” Bo said. “Was it?”

“Apparently not.” She lifted her glass, took another sip of wine. “The neighbors all came to ooh and aah, but there was talk behind our backs that our house was too ostentatious for the neighborhood.”

“Does it bother you that people refer to this place as the McMansion?”

“No. I guess not.”

Thanks to the gourmet cooking classes she’d taken, Carly was soon known as the Martha Stewart of Danbury Way. Everyone looked forward to coming to one of her parties or get-togethers. Well, at least they used to. She hadn’t issued any invitations in ages.

“It sounds as though you took great pains to be the perfect wife.”

She had. “And a lot of good that did me.”

“Maybe Greg would have preferred you to be yourself.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He told me that marriage wasn’t about how pretty I was, how perfect our house was or whether we had a baby ‘on schedule.’ He wanted someone who really cared about him, someone he could be himself with.”

And Carly had failed him in that respect.

She’d been devastated by the rejection she’d been afraid of all along.

“My pride took a hard blow when he said he didn’t love me anymore, and I threw him out of the house. Maybe if I hadn’t…”

She didn’t continue, but didn’t suppose she had to. Bo was a man. And he probably understood where Greg had been coming from, even if Carly was still struggling with it all.

“If you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be alone,” Bo murmured.

“That’s about the size of it.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” he asked.

“Just a sister. Shelby.” That’s about all Carly wanted to offer.

“Is she in Texas?”

Carly nodded. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess. But I figured that’s where you’re from because of that soft Southern drawl you have.”

“Dallas, born and raised.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Carly. Reach out to your family.”

It wasn’t quite as easy as he made it sound. Her family was so far away. And besides, her mother didn’t leave the house much these days. “I suppose I could fly to Texas.”

“Or bring them out here.”

She’d tried that once. For the engagement party.

At first she’d made excuses to put off having her family meet Greg’s, which wasn’t hard since they lived so far away. But when she couldn’t put it off any longer, she’d prepped her mom and sister on the “right” way to behave. And then she managed to keep everyone apart until the dinner party at the Bannings’.

But even though Antoinette had been thrilled that her oldest daughter had truly “made it” and would never have to worry a day in her life, she’d found the formal dinner to be nearly overwhelming.

Yes, thanks to Carly’s coaching, Antoinette and Shelby had faked their way through it all. But trying to be someone she wasn’t had been entirely too stressful for Antoinette, and she’d made no secret about dreading the actual wedding.

Carly had been on pins and needles the whole time, too. She was afraid Greg and his family would learn that she was a phony and didn’t belong in his circle.

That evening had passed without any serious problems or social blunders. But when it came time for the wedding, neither Antoinette nor Shelby had been able to attend.

Shelby, who’d always had one crisis or another while growing up, had gotten pregnant, which was a problem in itself, since she didn’t know who the father was. But to make matters worse, she’d started spotting right before she and Antoinette were to fly out for the wedding.

They’d had a good excuse for not attending, Carly supposed. But it was still weird seeing the Bannings’ family and friends fill the pews on both sides of the church.

She’d been disappointed, of course. But she’d also been relieved, knowing she wouldn’t have to stress about Shelby acting up and creating a scene during the wedding.

However, Bo was right.

“I’ll give my mom a call tonight,” she told him.

But she wouldn’t push too hard about her flying to New York. A part of Carly liked keeping her past at a healthy distance from her present.

“How about you?” she asked, wanting to get the focus off her family, her humble beginnings. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Only brothers. Three of them. Pete, Jr., Rick and J.J.”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah.” He grinned, fondness for his family lighting up his eyes. “My folks encouraged a healthy competition among us, especially in sports. But they also fostered a strong sense of loyalty. So we might rib each other unmercifully at times, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t cheer each other on—not just in sports, but in school and now in the real world.”

Carly found his love of family touching and decided she’d like to meet them someday, to see what kind of people had created such a nice guy.

As the two of them sipped their wine, they made small talk.

Carly was charmed by Bo’s sweetness, by the sense of humor she hadn’t realized he had.

Before she could offer to pour more wine, he placed his empty glass on the coffee table and stood. “I probably ought to get going.”

“Oh,” she said, not at all ready for him to leave yet. “All right.” She followed his lead, going through the polite, thanks-for-stopping-by motions.

But it had been ages since she’d…well, since she’d felt as at ease with someone. She enjoyed Bo’s company, not to mention his smile and the way her pulse fluttered whenever she caught his eye.

Gosh, maybe Molly and Rebecca had been right.

There was life after divorce.

But what if Bo didn’t come back? What if she’d done something, said something, to run him off?

Her mind scampered around, searching for some reason to invite him back—an excuse that didn’t sound as though she was interested in more than his friendship. After all, she wasn’t entirely sure her marriage was over. But she liked Bo and looked forward to seeing him again.

She wasn’t sure how to orchestrate something like that, other than come up with a bogus project she could hire him to do.

“You know,” she said, creating a feasible ploy on the spot, “I’ve been wanting a built-in bookcase in this room. I don’t suppose you have time to make one for me?”

He scanned the den, eyeing the walls, the ceiling. “Sure, I can do it. Why don’t I come by on Monday? I can measure the area and show you some wood samples.”

“Sounds good,” she said, feeling as though she’d scored, even if it was by default.

She led him to the front door, and as he stepped past her, his gaze snagged hers. Something—God only knew what—passed between them. Something she could almost touch.

“But it’ll have to be bright and early on Monday morning,” he added.

“That’s not a problem.”

“It isn’t?” he asked. “You’re not an early bird by nature.”

No, she wasn’t. But she hadn’t been sleeping well lately and often had the coffee brewing before dawn.

“I’ll be awake.”

And looking forward to seeing him again.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.