Page 30 of Finding Amanda

"He said he felt like Gabriel was in bed with us."

"What did he mean by that?"

Amanda looked at her friend. "Obviously he can't get past it. He can't forget what I did, and it's . . . it's repulsive to him. I'm repulsive. So don't tell me he loves me, okay? It's not true. I hoped when I told him the truth about my past, he'd eventually be able to see past it. I thought when he read the memoir . . ." She shrugged as if it didn't matter. "He's sorry he married me. His mother's always told him I wasn't good enough for him, and now he knows it's true. She thinks he deserves better. Now that he knows about my past, he . . ." She wiped a rogue tear from her cheek. "Heck,Ithink he deserves better."

"Amanda, that's not?—"

"And I'm not going to spend the rest of my life with someone who doesn't want me."

Jamie reached across the table and took her hand. "If you'd seen him this weekend, you wouldn't doubt his love."

"He's just protective. He'd feel that way about you or Chris or anyone he thought was in danger."

"That's not true. If you two would just try counseling?—"

She yanked her hand away. "You know how I feel about shrinks. And it's too late for that."

"So you're just going to give up?" Jamie pushed her plate away. "What about your children. If nothing else?—"

"Mark's a great father. Now that he doesn't live with them, he makes more of an effort than he ever did. And I'm happier than I've been in a long time." Amanda's skin prickled. It was true, wasn't it? "I know divorce is against your religion, but I don't need your approval."

Jamie reached across the table and took her hand again. "Of course you don't. And I'll be with you, no matter what you do. But don't be so quick to throw away your husband. Marriage is hard, no doubt. But regardless of what you say, he loves you."

Amanda had been home justa few minutes when the doorbell rang. On the front porch, a gray-haired man held a bouquet of yellow roses.

"You Amanda Johnson?"

Her heart fluttered as she reached for the flowers. "Yes, I am. Thank you."

"Enjoy your day," the man said, already headed back to his truck.

Amanda carried the roses to the kitchen counter and read the card.

It was lovely to see you. Until next time . . .

Amanda read the note again, stifling a giggle. How sweet of Alan to send her flowers. Had she told him her favorite flowers were yellow roses, or had he guessed? Either way, she was really looking forward tonext time.

Jamie's tender encouragement to fix her marriage only proved how little her best friend understood. There was nothing left to mend. Mark wanted her to forget her past, to wipe it away way like chalk on a blackboard. But it was a part of who she was, a part he was unable to love and unwilling to accept.

Amanda headed back to the kitchen, her decision made. No matter how much she cared for Mark, there was no way she was ever going to want him to move back in.

It was time to file for divorce.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mark worked silently, ignoring the banter of his crew. The owners had hired him to gut the old place.Replace everything, they'd said.Leave no stone unturned.Oh, and we want to be in by Christmas.

He'd tried not to laugh. They'd be lucky to finish by Easter.

The house had been built in the late eighteen-hundreds in Hingham, an old, upscale town closer to the coast. It sat on three acres of pine forest and weed-infested lawn and was probably worth more than Mark would make in a decade.

Today, he and his youngest employee were measuring the edges of the ceilings for crown molding while the other guys tapped in tongue and groove hardwood in the living room.

When Mark wrote down the last measurement, the kid grabbed the notebook and headed for the garage.

"I'll make the cuts," Mark said.

"You sure? It's freezing out there."

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