Husband by Choice. Tara Taylor Quinn

by now. I picture him in his booster seat at the table with tomato soup smeared over his chin and the corners of his lips.

      I can smell the soup. And see his sweet little face, those precious big brown eyes crinkled almost shut, as he lifts his mouth up to be wiped.

      I can’t think about him missing me.

      I also can’t picture his father’s identical eyes at the moment.

      Maybe in time.

      As another tear dripped onto the page, Jenna set down the pen and shut the book.

      * * *

      MAX HAD JUST deposited his cranky son in his crib Thursday night, turned on the monitor, the night-light, and shut the door when the doorbell rang.

      Meri. Heart racing, he descended the stairs two at a time, his black canvas high-tops hardly touching the ground at all, before he realized that if his wife had returned she’d use her key, not ring the bell.

      And before the thought slowed his feet, he countered it with the realization that Meri had left her keys in the cup holder of her car. He was supposed to have picked them up at the police station that afternoon but he’d had a late walk-in, a little boy with swollen adenoids and a panicky first-time mother, and the day care had been calling about Caleb’s distress and....

      He was pulling open the door before it occurred to him that Meri wouldn’t have left her house key in her car for anyone to find. If someone stole her old van, oh well...but she wouldn’t take a chance on a stranger happening along and getting access to their home.

      A woman stood on his front step. Her uniform, the blond hair, caught at his heart and he took a step back before he realized that she wasn’t Jill.

      “Chantel,” he said, sounding as surprised as he felt. He wasn’t at his best. Had none of the infamous Bennet bedside manner.

      “You look like you were on the losing end of a water fight,” she said, standing on his front porch as though it hadn’t been years since they’d seen each other.

      The last time had been....

      Jill’s funeral. She’d stood next to him. Squeezed his arm once. And too choked up to speak, had walked off into the sunset.

      “Caleb wasn’t happy to take a bath tonight. Kept insisting that Mama do it.”

      Her expression didn’t change much, but he was used to reading a female cop’s eyes. The way they’d glisten almost imperceptibly, focus a bit more, when the woman was moved.

      “You decided to go with superhero today,” she said, remarking on his black, white and red superhero imprinted scrubs, that were wetter than not at the moment. The shoes matched because Meri liked it when he bothered to find the right color, which he did about half the time.

      “You’re a long way from home,” he replied.

      “Three hours.” She shrugged. “And I’m here on business.” Holding up her left hand, he recognized Meri’s key ring dangling there.

      He snatched the ring. Not wanting anyone to wipe away what was left of Meri on those keys. Resisting the urge to raise them to his lips, he studied them for the couple of seconds it took him to get himself under control. He’d have to go get her van.

      He’d gone to work that day because he hadn’t known what else to do. Chantel, people she’d called, were making some follow-up queries, but as far as they were concerned, Meri had left of her own free will.

      She’d left a note. There’d been no sign of a struggle.

      Didn’t matter that he knew better. Husbands always thought that.

      Still, he’d referred most of his patients to another doctor at the clinic that day—a pediatrician in private practice like himself who traded duties with him whenever one or the other of them was sick or going to be gone.

      He’d seen a couple of minor cases. And tried to get caught up on his reading. And on a paper he was writing for the pediatric journal, whose editors had sought him out.

      “Her house key is missing.”

      “It looked like it to the officers here, we just needed your confirmation that a house key had been on there in the first place. I’m guessing she kept it.” Chantel’s tone was soft, filled with a nurturing that he knew she didn’t often express. “It’s further proof that she left of her own accord, Max. An abductor isn’t going to wait for her to take a key off her ring. Just like he wouldn’t wait for her to write a note.”

      “Any news on Steve Smith? Surely the man didn’t just disappear into thin air.”

      Chantel’s hair bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head. “He’s not coming up in any databases,” she said, leaving Max with the feeling that their attempts to find the man had been cursory—a matter of professional courtesy only.

      “Can I come in?”

      He was facing another sleepless night. Alone with a panic he’d promised not to feel. He had to get her to understand that Meri was in danger.

      “Sure,” he said.

      And tried to pretend he didn’t notice when her hand brushed his arm as she passed.

CHAPTER FIVE

      ONE OF THE things Meredith Bennet never failed to marvel at in her life with Max was being able to crawl into bed beside him every night. Like magic, she could cuddle up to the warmth of his body, rest her hand atop the springy dark hair on his chest, and sleep without fear.

      Without nightmare.

      Meredith’s alter ego, Jenna, who’d awoken alone no fewer than four times with cold sweats the night before, was just as happy to be sitting on the antique chintz sofa in Lila’s sitting room, even if it meant giving more of herself than she wanted to give.

      If this plan—to put an end to Steve’s presence in her life—was going to work, she had to be flexible. To go with the flow. At least until she’d had enough time to get ready....

      And the plan was going to work. One way or another....

      She was out of choices. Out of the will to run, to invent yet another life. She’d found the life she was meant to live—the only life she wanted.

      She’d found a love that was real and true and as deep as it got and the only way to honor that love, to keep it in its purest form, was to love unconditionally. Selflessly.

      There was no way Max would let her confront Steve on her own, and no other way to make the man go away. Max trusted his cop friends. Jenna was dealing with a man who could think like the cops and stay ahead of them at every step.

      A man who didn’t respect the jurisdiction of any law but his own.

      She knew. She’d seen him in action.

      If Max knew that Steve was after her, he’d call the cops and end up getting hurt. Cornered, Steve was the devil himself. He very well might snatch Caleb, hurt an innocent little boy, just to get her to do what he wanted.

      Which was why she had to let him know she’d left her family, rather than chance going home again. She’d left her cell phone so he’d find the van, the note she’d left. He’d read that note and think she left Max just like she’d left him. She hoped she was buying time by making him look for her again.

      To keep him in the game of finding her.

      “Did you go to college?” Lila, sitting in a wing-backed armchair opposite Jenna, asked her. She held her cup of tea with both hands, and looked as though she was settled in for a long chat.

      “Yes,” Jenna said. She’d tried the tea. Didn’t like it all that much. The milk made it too heavy. But she’d sip it. Slowly. Because she could tolerate pretty much anything as long as she didn’t focus on it