A Man To Count On. Helen R. Myers
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you’re going to make me work this hard at reading your mind,” Dylan said, his voice gruff, “I should at least be allowed to see your eyes.”
His tender complaint sent a new delicious trembling whispering through her, one she didn’t have the energy or desire to repress. Ridiculous, she thought in the next instant. She was a married woman, eyebrow-deep in scandal—besides, surely he had someone, the proverbial significant other in his life by now…?
“You can’t come out here.” She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked like death warmed over, the last of her makeup just washed off, her eyes bloodshot from strain as much as from fighting tears the entire day. Dylan would be a dangerous mix of gentle strength and undeniable masculinity. Too tempting.
“All right. Not tonight…if you’ll promise to have a hot bath and go to bed. Whether you sleep or not, your body needs to stop,” he continued as though sensing her protest coming. “You’re too exhausted to reason clearly. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We can debate things further tomorrow if you insist, as long as you understand that I am serious about being there for you. Try not to file that away under D for denial, okay?”
“Getting Mount Rushmore’s support could be a coup,” she said, feeling a need to give him some ground.
“Who were you considering to handle your divorce? Or do you see the potential for reconciliation?”
E.D. almost choked. “That’s not remotely funny.”
“Stranger things have happened,” he said with no inflection whatsoever.
“Well, it won’t here.”
The anger in her voice made her wince, but on the heels of that rushed certainty: her marriage had been suffering for a good while. She’d been delaying looking at the possible reasons, aware that inevitably she’d contributed to some of the problems between her and Trey. But his conduct was offsetting any guilt she had been willing to accept.
“Have you heard of Alyx Carmel?” she asked. “She’s risen to be one of the best divorce attorneys in the South.” And as luck would have it, they’d belonged to the same sorority at UT. E.D. hoped that would help her to negotiate some financial compromises as she worked out her financial bird’s nest.
“I’ve heard of her,” Dylan replied. “Didn’t she win a tough suit a few months ago for some widow-real estate heiress?”
“Benton versus Benton, that’s right. The stepkids were so power hungry they attempted to even dig into assets derived by the stepmother’s first husband.”
“Unusual. There wasn’t a trust? Those are difficult to invade.”
“That bottom line fell just below the requirements. And thanks to the new and ferocious generation of legal minds, many previously solid wills are considered breakable.”
Dylan sighed. “Dare I hope you don’t have to navigate those tricky waters?”
“Who knows what else Trey has up his sleeve? Let’s just say that imagining the attorney fees reminds me that I’m in the wrong side of this business.”
“Your problem is that you were never a bottom line person, though I must admit it’s another thing I admire about you. After you talk to Mount Rushmore, call me.”
“All right.” E.D. wanted him to know one thing. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
Before he could reply she disconnected.
Energized by his support, she reached for her cell phone.
Chapter Three
E.D. waited for the phone to start ringing. Dylan was right; she was the wronged party and she knew of no judge who would look into this situation and not wonder, “Why?”
Almost immediately Trey came on the line with a curt, “You shouldn’t be harassing me.”
E.D. opened her mouth to define exactly what harassment he deserved, then considered that he might have a recording device handy. Editing herself, she replied, “It’s barely past eight, Trey, and you know we have things to discuss. But first I’d like to speak to the kids.”
“You know how restraining orders read. You can’t.”
“How you managed that I don’t know, but understand this, you are doing more damage than you can imagine.”
“I’m only protecting my daughter and son.”
“Our children, Trey. And you know damned well I know nothing about this mess with Dani. If anyone should, it’s you, since you see her more than I do.”
“How long does it take to negligently sign something she shoves under your nose?”
His condescension made her empty stomach burn. “I told you last night that I did nothing of the kind, and when that hack photographer is ordered to produce my signature in court, your apology won’t be enough. The fact that you so easily believe him over me is beyond insulting.”
“I believe my daughter.”
That was what had made her physically sick earlier, the assertion that Dani supposedly claimed E.D. had signed the document. Tonight, she was desperate to determine why her child would say such a thing. “She couldn’t possibly have said that.”
“Oh, stop pretending. You haven’t been a wife or mother in longer than any of us can remember. I had no choice but to conclude you were so preoccupied with your career that you’d approve anything just not to be bothered.”
E.D. cringed. She had shortchanged her kids due to her workload. But unlike her kids, Trey had no business judging her. “Has the reason for that crossed your mind? How else are the bills to be paid? We can’t both sit at home and languish in a fantasy world.”
“Smart move insulting my misfortune.”
“Dani is the only victim in this house. No one owes you a writing career. Either you produce something people want to read, or you face reality and get a day job like everyone else. The kids are old enough to manage on their own an hour or two after school. Good grief, with Dani’s dance lessons three times a week, she’s already under adult supervision.”
After a slight pause, Trey taunted, “Want to go for the full strikeout?”
His smug tone was inflaming her long-repressed resentment and E.D. could barely contain herself. If only she’d put her foot down sooner. If only she’d listened to the small voice in her head warning her that if she waited too long, her marriage would be a weight that could sink her in more ways than one. Hindsight was going to prove as bitter a pill as the rest.
Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to ask calmly, “At least tell me if Dani ate something today?”
“She tried, she couldn’t keep anything down.”
Her poor baby. “Please call Dr. Warren if things aren’t better tomorrow. What about Mac? How’s his asthma? He was pretty upset after he heard us last night.” E.D. had come home late yet again and at first had assumed all was well and that the kids were in their rooms doing homework or visiting with friends. Within minutes that assumption had been shattered, and by the time Trey had stormed off to bed, it was obvious that all of their lives were changing forever.
His silence brought her attention back to the present. “I’ll hold. Please go check on him. Do it, Trey.”
After another hesitation, Trey muttered, “Okay.”
His acquiescence surprised and worried her. Did this mean he’d not seen Mac for hours and only now remembered him? Their son was the true introvert, a quiet soul who could get lost in his projects and painstaking study forgetting everything including the need to breathe.
“He’s