His Missing Wife by Jaime Hendricks (nice books to read .TXT) 📕

remove it,” I say through sniffles. “The marriage was annulled after a few weeks. It was never legal because I lied about my age. I had a fake ID.”

I always have a fake ID.

Assuming I was branded for life, branded with the truth, branded with what I deserved out of life, I stayed for a few more weeks, until he threw the boiling water on me.

“I understand if you want to leave.” I say it with a heavy heart. I’ll never have a normal life, with a normal, wonderful man like James. I’m a white trash whore. That’s why I end up with men who beat me and treat me like shit. It’s all I deserve. I’m branded like fucking cattle.

James tips my chin up to look at him. “We helped Dr. Matthews get her loan for her dermatology practice. I’ll make a call on Monday. We’ll get you a discount on laser removal.”

“I can’t afford it, James.” I need to think about every last cent. It’s going fast.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here for you. We’ll figure it out.” He takes my hand. “Together.”

We don’t have sex that night. We fall asleep together, and I’m wrapped in his arms. It’s the most freeing, comforting place I’ve ever been in. I feel more like a woman that night than in all my thirty-one years.

So, I jump him the next morning, and it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had.

I’m going to marry this man.

22

James

Sunday the weather turned, and fall came in with a blast. The temperature dropped into the midfifties, and the wind howled outside James’s windows all day. He didn’t want to go outside, but he couldn’t stay in his empty house anymore. It had become twice its normal size without them cooking breakfast together, or Tessa baking brownies for him, or them reading the paper together in bed on weekends. After walking Candy, he scanned a recent picture of Tessa on the computer and printed out a hundred copies, then went to the local hardware store for a heavy-duty stapler and duct tape. He handed a copy of the picture to every store owner he knew and peppered the light poles in town with her face. M-I-S-S-I-N-G, with Tessa’s picture and his phone number, all over town. The cops weren’t doing shit. Nothing but accusations and the runaround. If he had to take this into his own hands, he would.

After he got back, he didn’t even eat. Well, not really. A little bit of the food Evan brought over Friday night was still in the refrigerator, so he picked at it. His stomach turned against him and he couldn’t keep anything down.

Another lonely night in bed, just him and Candy. Party of two. Nights were the worst, without her there, safe in bed next to him. Where was she? Was she hurt? Alone? Cold? Did someone take her against her will? Was she wondering why James hadn’t rescued her? His heart split into a million pieces every time his mind wandered in that direction.

He slept in on Monday. It wasn’t like he had to get up and go to work. Even Candy rested beside him in Tessa’s empty spot, likely enjoying the extra daddy/doggie morning. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he slowly pulled Tessa’s pillow out from under Candy’s head and embraced it. It still had some of Tessa’s scent—her shampoo, that coconut oil she liked to use as moisturizer—and he took a deep breath of memories before he got up. After checking his phone, for something, anything to let him know that his wife was safe, he was yet again dejected to find no calls, no texts. Not like he’d miss it—his volume was as loud as it could go. He didn’t want to chance sleeping through something important.

He rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. His reflection was foreign. His gray eyes sunken, rings of worry surrounding them. He looked like he’d lost five pounds, all from his face. Hollow cheeks, dry lips, lackluster hair. He splashed water on his face and slapped his leg twice, to indicate to Candy it was time for breakfast and a walk.

Candy followed James downstairs, into the kitchen, and he prepped her meal—half wet food, half dry food. He looked at the clock—after ten. Half the morning was already wasted, yet he didn’t know what to do with himself. It wasn’t like James to be stagnant. He hadn’t heard from Solomon since he was at the station two days ago. Did Solomon do anything besides harass James and smoke cigarettes?

Were they not telling James details because they thought he did something to her?

The phone rang. It sounded different, ominous, like he was in a horror movie and the monster was about to attack. The number flashing on the screen was from the bank and he answered immediately.

“James. It’s Trey.”

“Hey.”

“Have you heard from Rosita?”

“No.” He hadn’t, but he didn’t want to omit anything. “Well, I spoke with her on Saturday.”

“About what?”

I sort of accused her of being involved in Tessa’s disappearance. “She let me know about VistaBuild. That I won the project.” Yes, he stuck in that dig.

“Really? She told you?”

“Yeah. What’s this about?”

An obvious sigh. “She’s not here. Not answering her phone. Andy and Kyle have questions from legal.”

“What do you want from me? I’m ‘sorting it out.’” Jerk.

“We’re a little strapped here, James. Can you come in?”

“Oh, so now you need my help. Now that Rosita is gone?” He knew he sounded antagonistic, but really?

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about the importance of this entire project to us. To the town.”

“And you haven’t been able to get a hold of her?”

“James, not now.”

James assumed Rosita jumped through hoops every time Trey called. When they were competing for the manager job, everyone worked overtime. James didn’t want to be the first to leave while Trey was in the office. He wanted to show his dedication.

James and Tessa had adopted Candy right before he was