Page 87 of Finding Amanda

"There's nothing else to talk about. Give me my phone."

He slipped her phone into his pocket. "Take your time."

From the warmth of his truck, he watched as she stood, huddled against the cold. He wondered if she would head for one of the many buildings lining the beach to borrow a phone. If she did, what would he do, kidnap her? Fortunately, after about ten minutes of the nasty wind chill, she slowly made her way back to him.

She climbed into the car. "Take me home."

"Put on your seat belt."

She yanked it on, and he turned the truck around and headed back toward her house.

"So, last night . . . two women in one night, huh? I guess nobody can question your virility."

He shook his head slowly. "I didn't sleep with her, Amanda."

"Why not? I mean, cheat once, cheat twice, cheat a thousand times. It adds up to the same thing. And how am I supposed to believe anything you tell me?"

"What happened with her, it was a long time ago, before we were married. And I wasn't myself. Between the recovery from Afghanistan, and you not being there, and my parents . . . None of that excuses what I did. I'm just telling you, it was a stupid mistake I've regretted every single day since."

"Not enough to come clean with me about it, though, huh?"

"I never wanted to hurt you. There was no reason to tell you."

"So why are you telling me now?"

"Because Annalise told my mother, and I didn't want you to hear it from her."

"Well, how thoughtful, though you probably robbed your mother of what might have been the greatest joy of her life."

"I don't care about my mother, Amanda. And I don't care about Annalise. I care about you. What happened with her, it didn't mean anything, and honestly, I thought you'd never forgive me, and?—"

"Well, you're right about that. I never will forgive you. Never."

He nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well, I guess you and my mother have more in common than we thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Unforgiveness. It's the number one prerequisite for becoming a bitter old shrew. Just ask Mom."

"Oh, I don't think so. I think the only thing your mother and I have in common is our poor choice in men." She stared out the window.

Mark begged God for wisdom, for words, for . . . something. But God was silent.

When he parked in front of her house, he turned to her. "Amanda, I love you. That hasn't changed. I love you, and I want you back."

"I'm filing the papers tomorrow."

"Please don't. Not while you're so angry. Please wait. You promised—a month."

"You slept with another woman. I think you win in the whole broken promises department."

"You're right. But please, just give it . . . if you can't wait a month, then a week."

"What do you think is going to happen in the next seven days that's going to make me change my mind?"

"I . . ." He faltered. He had no idea. "Seven days, Amanda. Please."

She stepped out of the car and slammed the door.

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