Page 65 of The Farmer Has a Wife

Danni didn’t stop her.

She listened as Eleanor’s footsteps receded, as the front door clicked shut behind her, as the engine of the little sports car roared to life. Then she just stood there, staring at nothing, fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles ached.

What the hell had just happened? What had changed? How had they gone from building something to suddenly there being nothing there? It didn’t make sense. Except that Eleanor was so obviously hiding something.

She’d come to her senses, Danni thought. Once she was alone in that big, empty house, she’d realize what she’d done. She’d miss waking up together. She’d miss their stupid fights, the banter, the way they made up afterwards. She’d miss it all. She’d—

A knock at the door startled her.

She blinked, shaking herself, before realizing that this could be Eleanor. Maybe she’d come to her senses already, maybe she’d changed her mind, turned the car around, come back here to say that she’d been afraid, been stupid, been…

Danni yanked the door open, but Eleanor was not standing there.

A man in a motorcycle helmet and leather jacket was holding out a large buff-colored envelope. “Delivery for Danielle Franks.”

Danni frowned, taking it. “What is it?”

The man shrugged. “Legal documents. Sign here.”

She signed, her hand trembled, her pulse pounding in herears.

When she closed the door, her fingers fumbled with the envelope, tearing it before she slid the papers free, crisp and cold between her fingers.

At first, she took nothing in.

Then she read again.

Only then did her stomach knot and her breath stop. Only then did she really understand.

Eleanor wasn’t just moving home. She wasn’t taking some space. She wasn’t just freaked out because it had all got serious. No.

Eleanor wanted a divorce.

It was over.

Danni sank onto the bottom stair, staring blankly at the words on the page. She’d been wrong. Eleanor wasn’t coming back. Not ever.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Eleanor walked through the grand front doors of the manor without even noticing that they hadn’t been locked. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, the sound echoing through the empty, cavernous entryway. She could smell dust and paint and all the reminders that the house wasn’t yet finished. But she strode through the house to the west wing, holding herself together, not spilling a single tear.

She’d done it.

She’d walked away from Danni.

It had seemed best not to complicate things, best to separate, be clear that this was a business relationship. That was the best way of Danni keeping what was hers, of not putting Danni’s livelihood at risk.

Any hint that a divorce wasn’t on the up-and-up and Danni’s assets could come back into play, and that wasn’t why she’d done this at all.

So she’d walked away from Danni and the farm, from the warmth of waking up beside someone who made her laugh. So she’d done the right thing.

Why, then, did it feel so utterly wrong?

She exhaled slowly, straightening her shoulders. It was better this way, she kept telling herself. She had to protect Danni. Andif that meant cutting her out of her life completely, then so be it. No room for doubt, no room for second-guessing. She’d been brought up to do the right thing, and damn it, she was going to do the right thing. What she might actually want was completely irrelevant.

“Did I not tell you to get a night watchman around here? Or at least lock the damn door?”

Eleanor spun around to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway, her suit wrinkled and her eyes tired. “What do you need?” she asked.

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