Daddy On The Doorstep. Judy Christenberry
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He took a step toward her and she turned and fled to the kitchen. Somehow she feared he might mistake her for his meal.
They ate in silence until Nick had finished.
“You’ve got a healthy appetite,” he observed.
Her head snapped up and she stared at him before looking away. “I always have,” she said mildly.
“True. But you didn’t always look like a waif with eyes too big for your face. What have you been doing to yourself?”
He continued to stare at her, and the turkey in her mouth tasted like sawdust. She swallowed before replying, “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to eat?” he asked skeptically. “Everyone should make time for proper meals.”
Since he’d constantly missed dinner because of work, Andrea couldn’t believe her ears. “Is this the same man who called most evenings to say he’d grab a bite somewhere, that I shouldn’t count on him for dinner?”
He gave her a lopsided grin, almost an apology if she could believe her eyes. “Maybe I learned the importance of meals after what I had to eat in Africa.”
The reminder of how close she’d come to living in a world without him pierced her heart. She’d accepted that he wasn’t going to be a part of her life, but she couldn’t bear to think of him dead.
“Was it very bad?”
A low grumble was his first response. When she continued to watch him, he muttered, “Yeah. Eat your sandwich. You can’t afford to waste any calories.”
“Will you tell me about it?” It would be torture to hear what he’d suffered, but somehow she had to know.
“No. There’s no point in talking about it. Eat.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t wanted to talk during their marriage. His only interest had been in the bedroom. In the beginning, she’d been so swept off her feet, so overwhelmed by his magneticism, she hadn’t noticed how limited their relationship was.
Then he’d taken her to a company dinner. The stunning blonde who worked in accounting discussed business with him. Then they talked about sports, mostly the Chicago Bears. Two men joined them and expanded the conversation to hunting.
Andrea had stood there, realizing for the first time that she had no knowledge of Nick’s real life. She could tell the blonde what turned her husband on. She could share with the gentlemen what he said when he reached satisfaction. She knew what he liked her to wear.
But she didn’t know him.
They’d only been married a month, after a whirlwind courtship that was even shorter. Andrea set out to correct the difficulty. And found herself blocked at every turn. If she made plans for the two of them, Nick inevitably canceled. Work was too hectic; candlelit dinners ended with her eating alone.
Attempts at conversation either were dismissed because he was too tired…or because he wanted her. When she protested her loneliness, he offered her a bigger allowance and told her to join some clubs.
Most painful of all, when she’d asked about starting a family, he’d flatly refused.
“You’re not eating,” he reminded her, dragging her from her distasteful memories.
She abruptly stood. “I’ve finished.” Crossing to the sink, she dumped what was left of her sandwich in the trash and began rinsing the dishes. The kitchen was completely up-to-date, thanks to Nick. He couldn’t persuade Aunt Bess to move to Chicago, or to let him build her a new house. But she was terribly proud of her new kitchen.
“So, where are you living now?” Nick asked as he sat slouched at the table.
Andrea eyed his casual air, but she wasn’t fooled. “You already know.”
He didn’t move, but his gaze intensified. “What makes you think that?”
“Who else would deposit ten thousand dollars into my checking account?” When she’d gotten the deposit slip in the mail, she’d first thought the bank had made a mistake. But when she’d called, the bank officer had kindly explained that her husband had thought she might need additional funds in her separate account. He even assured her that if she needed more, any check she wrote would be covered by her husband’s bank in Chicago.
“I thought you might be strapped for cash. You didn’t take much with you.” He didn’t meet her gaze.
“I’m fine. I can return the money to you whenever you want it.” She might not be living in the lap of luxury, but she was managing.
“I don’t want the damn money,” he replied, straightening, his shoulders stiff.
Forcing herself to remain calm, she crossed to the table and reached for his dishes. In a flash he had seized her wrists, forcing her to stand still.
“Andy, why did you leave?”
Her heart beat faster as she debated her response. They’d had an argument, but she hadn’t decided to leave until after he’d left their penthouse, bound for the airport for another business trip. Like most runaways, she’d left a note.
“I—I told you in the note.”
“‘Our marriage isn’t working’? You think that’s an explanation for walking out? Hell, we were only married for six months!” His brows furrowed across his forehead and those devilish blue eyes glinted with fury.
She pulled from his grasp. “What do you care? You didn’t come after me or call me. You just went on about your business, leader of free enterprise, billionaire extraordinaire.”
He rose and Andrea took a step back. “Is that what your leaving was all about? You wanted me to come after you? To prove that I love you? Didn’t I tell you I love you? Can’t you accept my word? Do I have to—”
“No!” she replied sharply, interrupting his tirade. “No, that wasn’t what I wanted. I want a divorce. That’s all I want. You can keep your money.”
She turned her back to him and took a deep breath, hoping to steady her racing pulse. She needed to stay calm.
When he spoke again, his voice was even, as if he, too, recognized the need for control. “At the moment, you’re still my wife, Andy. I’m supposed to provide for you.”
“We’re separated, Nick. Just because I haven’t filed for divorce, yet…” She stopped because she didn’t want to discuss why she hadn’t filed for divorce.
“And you think by taking an apartment in Kansas City, getting a job with Robbins Interiors, buying a beat-up old car that can’t safely take you a block—”
“How do you know all that?” she demanded, surprised before she stopped to think. When she did use her head, the answer was appallingly clear. “You had me followed?” she asked, her eyes wide with dismay, her voice rising several octaves. How else would he know so much about her life?
“No, of course not!” When she continued to glare at him, not giving an inch, he muttered, “Just checked up on. You’re my wife, Andy. It’s my duty to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection,” she assured him. Turning, she set his dishes on the cabinet and then walked to the door. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Where are you going?”
“To watch the news on television.”
Bess had refused all Nick’s attempts to buy her a television, but he’d finally surprised her with one for her birthday two years ago. Though she complained about it a lot, she’d finally confessed to Andrea that she “occasionally” watched a soap opera. And then proceeded to relate every plot twist for the past two years.
Andrea switched on the set and checked her watch. She