Eileen Wilks - The Wrong Wife

Of course. Cassie’s panic fled as she realized what she needed to do. “Jaya,” she said slowly, “do me a favor and go tell those guys I won’t be needing them, okay? They can bill Gideon for an hour of their time or something.”

Jaya whooped. “I knew it,” she said, her long legs taking her to the door in a twinkling. “I knew you were too smart to do this.”

“That’s right,” Cassie said, moving briskly herself now that she’d decided. She stopped at the little breakfast bar where Mickey Mouse held the telephone receiver out. “There’s simply no reason to make all these decisions today. I’m paid up until the end of the month, so I’ll leave most of the furniture here for now. We don’t need to pay a mover for the other stuff.”

“Cassandra Danielle O’Grady.” Jaya turned, one hand on the doorknob. “What are you talking about? You aren’t still planning on moving, are you?”

“My name,” she said as she dialed, “is now Cassandra Danielle O’Grady Wilde.” And that was the key. As of last night, she was part of Gideon’s life. Even if he’d changed his mind and didn’t want her there. Even if he did try to put fences around their relationship with his stupid one-year-marriage idea. Even if he had an apartment full of grays and blacks with no color....

Especially because he lived without color. He needed Cassie, needed her and her paints and her tacky little shell angel, and she didn’t need to put half of her life in storage in order to be with him. She had to believe that, or give up hope right now.

Cassie was simply no good at giving up. “I thought I’d see if Sam and Nugget could bring a truck and some muscles,” she explained to Jaya. who glared at her from the doorway, as Cassie listened to the phone ringing at the other end. “I’m sure Mo will help, too. Even if I leave some of the furniture here, there will be a lot of lifting involved, and it’ll go faster if—oh, hi, Sam. I have a favor to ask. But first...guess what I did yesterday?”

Four

At 5:20 Gideon started clearing off his desk. He put the rolled seismic section he’d been studying into the stand behind his desk and shut down the computer. After a brief hesitation he put his working disk in his desk drawer, which he locked. He wouldn’t take any work with him today. Cassie was waiting.

When he reached for his coffee cup he noticed the framed photograph that had sat on his desk for the past six months, a token that had reassured him daily of how close he was to his goal. How close he’d thought he was. The painful bewilderment that had ridden him for the past five days, ever since Melissa’s phone call, rose again to tighten his throat.

He couldn’t very well keep the picture of his former fiancée on his desk now that he’d married another woman, could he? Gideon picked up the picture.

Six months ago, when he and Melissa had become engaged; her parents had given him this studio photograph of their daughter, framed in silver. He held it in his hands now, feeling the weight of that heavy frame, staring at the lovely, poised woman in the pale blue Chanel suit who was supposed to have become his wife.

Why hadn’t she wanted him?

It should have been perfect. They never argued, and their tastes were almost identical. They’d agreed on everything from music to movies to where they would live and what kind of house they would live in. Oh, they’d had a minor difference over the wedding itself. They’d agreed that the sanctuary at St. Luke’s was the only possible place for the ceremony, but St. Luke’s was the most fashionable church in the city. The sanctuary had been booked up on weekends for the next two years. Gideon had put his foot down. No way was he waiting more than six months, as Melissa had urged at first. In the end, she’d agreed to a weekday ceremony. At least she had told him she agreed. How could he be sure of anything now? She’d also told him she wanted to marry him. and she hadn’t meant that.

Slowly Gideon opened the back of the frame and slid out the glossy photo. He unlocked his desk, opened the. bottom drawer and pulled out a photo album.

The album had been cheap to start with—a dull green binder with gilt trim stamped into the vinyl. Now, many years and much handling later, it looked shabby and completely out of place in the elegant office.

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