The Next Wife, Kaira Rouda [fiction books to read TXT] 📗

“How’s your salad?” she asks, watching me closely. Ever since I saved her from that rattlesnake, she’s been nicer. I guess we just need to come across a snake every few hours to keep things on an even keel.

“Good,” I manage to respond before shoving another bite in my mouth. Tish has ordered a bottle of rosé and is in the process of drinking the whole thing alone. That’s not healthy. I’d help her, but my altitude sickness is worse with alcohol. I’m saving myself for tonight. I’ll need a few drinks to get through until tomorrow.

“You sure you don’t want a glass of wine?” Tish asks. She’s slurring a bit. She holds up the bottle. “Oops. Looks like there’s only one glass left. Ha!” She pours the rest of the bottle into her glass. “Cheers! What else do you want to do today? What would make it special for you?”

I want to say “take a nap,” but I don’t think that’s what an old guy tells his young wife on a romantic weekend. “Whatever you’d like.”

She smiles at that. I am proud of my smooth answer.

“You know, I could use some retail therapy. A little shopping sounds good. You should get your daughter a gift. She loves Telluride, right?”

Ashlyn does love Telluride. She learned to ski here. We spent many happy Thanksgivings and Christmases here, just the three of us. I swallow. The last time I asked Ashlyn to come to Telluride with me, she told me I’d ruined it by proposing to Tish here. I’ll admit, it wasn’t well planned. But Ashlyn will come around. She’s had a wonderful life all in all.

Tish, well, I know she had it tough as a girl. She hasn’t told me much—it’s what she doesn’t say that lets you know it was bad. Tish never had anybody taking care of her until I came along.

Or, rather, she came along, and I thought with my dick instead of my brain. I swallow the pang of guilt at the memory and remind myself Tish will be fine. She’ll be rich and never need to worry about anything. She’ll be fine.

I don’t say what I think. I keep it in, and then things turn ugly.

Like now. It looks like we are a happy couple who shared a shockingly expensive lunch at one of the best restaurants in Telluride and are now out for a stroll through town. But we’re not. Not really.

“What’s Ashlyn’s favorite store?” Tish asks.

I’ve managed to finish my salad, pay the bill, and escort Tish out to Main Street all while lost in my memories. Good question. “Last time we were here was almost five years ago.” That revelation leaves a lump in my throat. Time is racing by, and my daughter and I grow further apart by the minute.

“That’s too bad. Well, Two Skirts is cute. I’ll find a little something for Ashlyn and something for me. You can wait out here.” Tish points to a bench, and I do as I’m told. With all the wine she’s had, I’m surprised she’s able to walk straight, let alone shop. I take that back. She can shop in any condition. That I have discovered firsthand.

Kate never went to a mall. She’d browse the windows here but preferred to be outside enjoying the fresh air. Of course, Kate has a stylist who refreshes her wardrobe every month. Somehow, though, that seems sophisticated, sensible. She doesn’t have the time to shop—she runs a huge company. But she always looked great. Still does. Kate would laugh at me if she saw me now, sitting on a bench like a scolded child in time-out.

Just an old sugar daddy waiting for his lady. Fuck. I pull out my phone. There is something I can do. Despite the fact I’m “not allowed,” I push Kate’s number. I have her in my contacts under Mabel, but I doubt we’re fooling anyone. Too bad, Tish. We have things to discuss that no one else needs to know about.

She answers on the first ring. “Are you OK? What’s going on? And are you alone?”

Let me unpack that for you. She’s worried because I’m calling her on a Saturday during my romantic getaway. That is because Tish has made a rule that Kate and I cannot communicate directly without her approval and supervision, especially outside of the office. I never call Kate when Tish is within earshot. That would cause an explosion at my current home. World War III.

I’ve come to realize this is all ridiculous. Kate and I run a company together. We have a daughter, we have—had—a life.

Shit.

“I’m stupid. I let her whisk me away.” I watch the front door of the boutique, ready to hang up if Tish appears.

“You’re leaving me to handle all the questions.” She exhales loudly. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s a lot. I’m at the office, fielding calls from employees. I wish you were here to help me. We’re so good together. A team. At work, I mean.”

“I know, Katie. I’m home tomorrow. I’m sorry. For everything. I’m going to fix this.” I don’t know why I added that, but I did.

“Where is she right now? How are you getting away with calling me? Won’t you be in trouble?” Kate is worried about me. But she’s right to. I’m beginning to think Tish is crazy.

“Tish is in a store, buying something for Ashlyn, after she buys twice as much for herself.”

“Shocking. She is good at that, so maybe just let her shop for the rest of the weekend? Don’t worry. I can handle things here until you’re back. It’s fine.” Kate is so nice to me.

“No, it’s not. I feel terrible about leaving you,” I quickly add. “I promise, I’ll pick up my share as soon as I get back tomorrow.”

Kate laughs. “Are you sure you’ll be coming home tomorrow? Doesn’t seem like you’re the one in charge. But I hope you’re right.”

“Look,