An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

respect of many if not most of her colleagues for the way she’d tried to hang on to Zach. The firm was meant to be hers. She was now the face of Flynn Law, and dammit, she intended to keep it that way.

She’d thought about asking her mother to fire them both, but she knew that without cause they could sue her and the firm. They were both outstanding at their jobs. In Grace’s mind, it was a matter of who was going to blink first. It wasn’t going to be her.

The fact that she was sick to her stomach every morning when she stepped off the elevator wasn’t as important to her as being the last one standing.

She’d tried everything she could think of to win him back, but nothing had worked. He had made it very clear they were over by filing for divorce two months after Art died.

“I’m sorry to have to deliver the second blow, Gracie, but I held off while your dad was sick.” Zach had looked up from packing a suitcase when she’d walked into the bedroom one evening to let him know dinner was ready, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d be eating alone. There had been several bags sitting by the door already packed and ready to go. “I didn’t want to upset anyone any more than they were. But I don’t love you, and I haven’t for a long time.”

She’d been stunned. Had he really just said he didn’t love her? That couldn’t be right. When had that happened? Why?

She’d broken down and begged him to try to work things out. They could go to counseling, she’d said through her tears, but then he’d hit her with, “Stop demeaning yourself. I’m in love with someone else. I’ve moved on, and I suggest you do, too.”

He’d picked up his bags and walked down the stairs and out the front door without saying goodbye. Or maybe he had. All she’d been able to hear inside her head was, I don’t love you . . . I’m in love with someone else.

They’d been together since law school, married for almost ten years.

This isn’t real, she’d told herself. He’ll be back.

At first, after he’d moved out, she’d tried to pretend that everything was normal, not mentioning their impending divorce to anyone. She’d waited weeks to tell her mother and sister that she and Zach had separated, but added they were trying to work things out, which was true only in her own mind. Still, at work she’d directed cases to Zach that she believed would require her input, but he’d declined her offers to assist. Then one morning, weeks after he’d left, Grace had been in the break room, where someone had left a box of doughnuts on the table. She’d peered into the box, then picked up a chocolate frosted and said to no one in particular, “I think I’ll take this in to Zach. Chocolate frosted are his favorites.”

An awkward silence had fallen over the room. Then Amber had smirked, taken the doughnut from Grace’s hand, and walked out, still smirking. One by one, wordlessly, the others had left the room, leaving Grace with chocolate on her thumb and the feeling she’d missed something important.

About a half hour later, her assistant, Terri, had come into Grace’s office, closed the door behind her, taken a deep breath, and said, “Grace, there’s something you need to know. It’s about Zach.” Another deep breath. “And Amber.”

“What about Zach?” she’d asked. “And Amber?”

Terri had stood at the front of Grace’s desk with a pleading look. “Grace. It’s not Zach. And Amber. It’s Zach and Amber. They’re together. Like, living together.”

The punch to Grace’s gut had been so fierce and so sudden she couldn’t speak. Finally, “Zach and Amber? They’re together? Like, together together? Are you sure?”

“Do you really think I’d come in here with idle gossip?”

“How do you know . . . ?”

“Grace, everyone in the office knows. They’ve made no effort to hide it. Haven’t you noticed she’s always in his office?”

“She works on some of his cases . . . ,” Grace had replied weakly.

“She’s working on his case, all right.”

Grace had looked down at the report she’d been reading. All she’d seen was a black blur.

“Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up.” Grace had tilted her head in the direction of the door.

Terri had gotten the hint, but before she’d opened the door, she’d added, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but someone had to. I can’t stand watching you humiliate yourself every day.”

Grace had nodded slowly, her eyes downcast. She’d wanted to thank Terri for clueing her in, but her voice had seemed to have gone AWOL. The door had closed softly, but Grace hadn’t been able to move. She’d thought back on moments over the past few months when she should have picked up on what everyone else apparently knew. Motionless at her desk until shadows began to ease across the room hours later, finally she’d stood. Outside her office, she’d been able to hear the sounds of the workday shutting down: the ping of the elevator, the good nights and the see you tomorrows of her coworkers. When the voices had gone silent, she’d gathered her briefcase, stuffing in work she’d wanted to take home even as she knew she wouldn’t look at it, grabbed her purse, and slung it over her shoulder. Turned off the lights, closed up her office. Passed Zach’s half-open door, through which a giggle escaped. Grace had paused in the hall, listened for a moment, then gone back to her office, into her private bathroom, and thrown up.

By the time she’d pulled herself together, most of the office suites were dark. She’d gotten into the elevator and punched the button for the lobby with more force than was necessary. Once home, she’d allowed herself to cry until she was hoarse. After she’d dried her face, she’d poured a glass of wine and considered her options.

Her first thought had been to