Page 84 of Finding Amanda

Amanda wanted him out of this place, and though he hoped to move home soon, he couldn't stay here with Annalise living across the hall, not even for a month. He'd look into the apartments Amanda suggested. Maybe he could take a short-term lease. Or maybe crash on Chris's couch.

"There's something else," Annalise whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

Her face had colored, and his heart hammered. "What?"

"When I talked to your mom last week . . . You have to understand, she said you were getting a divorce. I didn't know you were trying to work things out, or I wouldn't have, but . . ."

"But what?"

"I told her about that night. I told her you and I slept together. And, well, I guess, since she seemed happy about the divorce, I wonder if she'll tell your wife."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Amanda dropped the girls off at school the next morning. They'd grumbled and complained all morning—the price of too much candy and too little sleep. But their crankiness didn't dampen her high spirits.

While she waited to exit the school parking lot, she dialed her lawyer, who answered on the second ring. "I want you to hold off filing the papers."

"You sure about this?"

"Absolutely." She'd decided to wait a month. Maybe she'd hold off forever. Forever sounded good.

"All right. I'll put the file away until I hear otherwise."

That chore done, Amanda slipped the phone into the pocket of her navy blue sweat suit and cranked up the oldies station. She sang out loud to the music, only stopping when she turned her car into her driveway and saw Mark's truck. Her heart skidded to a halt, then picked up speed. She smiled so wide, her cheeks hurt as she climbed from the car. What was he doing here? Maybe he couldn't wait to see her again. He loved her. Amanda thought she might float from the car.

Mark was sitting on her front step, his head propped onhis hands. He looked up, and she froze in place. The soaring joy of a moment before collapsed like an undercooked soufflé. "What happened?"

His lips lifted at the corners just a touch—not a smile so much as a herculean effort not to frown. "Will you go for a ride with me?"

"Where?"

"Just for a ride."

She climbed into the passenger's seat of his pickup truck, inhaling the familiar scents of aftershave and sawdust. He closed the door behind her and slid into the driver's seat a moment later.

Without a word of explanation, Mark turned the car north.

How long had it had been since she'd been in his truck? A couple of months at least. Though it was a nice vehicle, Mark hated it. Or maybe it wasn't the truck so much as the work it represented. He hated construction. But the only other thing he felt qualified to do she'd begged him not to pursue. His dream job had been to work for the FBI or CIA, but he'd turned down both of their offers. She remembered too well her debilitating fear while Mark was fighting in Afghanistan, certain one day she would learn the love of her life had been killed on some dusty patch of earth in the middle of nowhere. She couldn't face that every day of her life. Reluctantly, he'd let his dream go and pursued her instead.

And so he worked construction and drove a truck. How selfish she'd always been. How generous he'd been in return.

How had she ever considered divorcing him?

He cleared his throat. He was obviously upset, but she wasn't worried. Whatever happened, they'd deal with it together.

Both of his hands squeezed the steering wheel. She reached across the front seat and touched his right wrist. He let go of thesteering wheel and held her hand. He felt warm and safe, but his mouth was turned down at the corners, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced.

"What's going on, Mark?"

He squeezed her hand. "Let's just ride for a few minutes. Do you have to be back at any particular time?"

She'd already called her lawyer. She'd posted her daily blog before she left the house. She'd planned to work on her edits, but somehow her latest book seemed unimportant as she considered the look on her husband's face. "I'm free till the girls get out of school."

"Good."

He wound his way toward the beach, though it wasn't a good day for a walk in the sand. Overcast skies and a cool breeze would keep her in the truck, but she knew how he loved the ocean.

The hope that had filled her since their conversation the night before staggered. "You're scaring me. Can you please tell me what's going on?"

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