I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
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Something's wrong.
I can feel it so deep in my gut that it's making me itch, only I have no idea where to scratch. I've had this feeling for three days, ever since Charlotte slammed a literal door in my face. Not a single one of my texts or calls has been answered, which is so out of character for her. She is always prompt. She is always considerate. She is always available.
Charlotte will make you a great wife, Mr. Montgomery. I've raised her to know exactly what to expect when it comes to a man of your caliber.
Her broken, defeated face flashes through my memory before disappearing entirely behind the guest room door. The question that has been niggling in the back of my mind ever since that night is why?
Why was she so broken?
Why wouldn't she speak to me?
Why did she behave so out of character?
Don't get me wrong, I understand completely that the conversation Charlotte overheard must have come as a complete surprise and, to be honest, was quite uncouth. I had no idea of Abigail's intention when she asked to speak with me in my father's office, and I certainly didn't handle the situation as well as I should have. I allowed my storm of emotions to blind me at the moment, and that's not something I can afford to do again. Regardless of the details of Charlotte's and my marriage, we're still married. And, anything that has to do with our marriage should be discussed between us, not with Abigail.
Of course, I still love you, Abigail. I flinch at my idiocy.
Shaking my head, I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. I've been sitting in the empty conference room for the past thirty minutes with my phone sitting in front of me, willing for Charlotte to respond so I know she's okay and I can finally move on with my day. The need to call her again burns so hot it's become almost an obsession at this point, but what good would it do when she won't respond anyway?
How hard can it possibly be to let me know that she's all right? I'd leave her alone after that. Maybe I need to have someone check on her. I had promised her space, but if she won't do the decent thing and let me know she's at least alive, I don't see why I should keep my end of the deal.
My phone screen lights up, and for a brief moment I'm filled with relief when I think Charlotte is finally responding, but my stomach drops when I see Abigail's name flash across the screen instead. I couldn't tell you the number of times she's called and texted me these past few days and I've ignored every single one. The last time I spoke with her was Monday afternoon when I called to tell her that an emergency had popped up and I'd be unable to go with her to the attorney. There was no emergency, but I didn't feel right helping Abigail with her marriage problems when I had my own that needed to be dealt with first.
Charlotte and I aren't in love. Our marriage was never about that, which is exactly why, when her father brought the idea to the negotiation table all those years ago, I had agreed to marriage with her in the first place.
