The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (top 20 books to read .txt) 📗

child. Too bad. But she had him for twenty-one years. That’s seventeen more years than I had with my real dad, before the first awful stepdaddy came around. She should consider herself lucky, but I know she doesn’t.

I’m too far away to hear what Nancy, Kate’s red-haired executive assistant, the office busybody who thinks she’s everyone’s mom, whispers in Ashlyn’s ear. But I know it was something about me. They both turn and stare at me, and I decide to meet their glares. I mean, really? You haven’t scared me away yet, so where do you think I’m going now?

Ashlyn doesn’t realize it, but she works for me now. She’ll be fine with it. We’ll be buddies again. I am much more fun than her mom.

I’m the new Kate. The younger, better version. Ashlyn already likes hanging out with me more, so she’ll get used to the arrangement. Or, rather, she will for a bit before she goes back to college. Bye-bye, Ashlyn. Then it’s just me and Kate. What a team. That thought brings a quick smile to my face. I drop my head and pretend to cough.

Nancy walks toward me. I suppose she must save face and murmur something kind in my ear, too. It’s only right. I am the grieving wife and the co-owner of EventCo. She’ll report up to me. It’s Kate and me in charge from now on. Won’t that be fun?

What? Nancy just wagged her finger at me, turned, and walked away. She didn’t come over to me to express her condolences. How dare she? As I watch her slow retreat, I fantasize about all the ways to fire her. I’ll get awful Sandra in HR on this immediately. Sandra is ruthless, I know from firsthand experience. She tried hard to force me out of the company after John and I were engaged. She’d pleaded with John to have me quit. But I told him I loved working with him, promised him some more after-hours fun on the conference table, and I won. I always do.

I glance at my purse sitting on the ground beside me. John’s phone is in there. I pull it out and hold it in my hand, although I’m not sure why I’m still carting it around. I tried to get into all his apps, but he never gave me a password to anything but his phone. And that doesn’t work on any of the apps—an extra layer of security that I find completely annoying. What was he trying to hide? I tried Ashlyn’s birthday, my birthday, our anniversary, and all the usual suspects. Nothing. I’ve kept it charged, hoping I’ll think of something.

I was able to clean up his texts, delete a few sweet notes from Kate, who calls herself Mabel for some reason. She was a little flirty but nothing overt. I suspect there were more that he deleted to hide them from me, and I have no way to retrieve them. The ones that weren’t deleted covered basic logistics of their sneaky affair: lunch dates, call time reminders, and the like. I can see how many calls John made to her. He even called her the night before he died, but she is the only one who has the voice mail messages if there are any. Not that any of it does her any good now. Or him. The cheaters. Kate likely reads the texts over and over again, pining away for what might have been. Too bad. She lost. How desperate to go after a guy who dumped you for a younger model.

It’s a shame Kate has no spine, trying to weasel her way back into my man’s life.

I look at John’s phone. Odd, isn’t it, how his voice mail has outlived him.

I drop John’s phone into my purse and grab my phone. I quickly check for messages. There aren’t any. I’m beyond bored. It must be time for this thing to end already. There’s nothing left to say. John is dead.

I, for one, am ready to go. There is so much to do now that I’m back in town.

CHAPTER 21

KATE

Nancy’s words of support give me the energy to handle the last of the mourners. I see the end of the line, some twenty people deep. Jennifer pulls on the heavy doors to seal off the ballroom and to keep anyone else from joining the line. She knows we’ve had enough. I nod thanks in her direction, and she offers a brief wave.

“How are you holding up?” Lance has tears in his eyes. He’s so much more than our COO. He’s family. Lance folds me into his strong arms.

“You must be exhausted, Kate.” Jennifer is behind me, patting my shoulder. “Have a seat. Drink some water.”

I do as she suggests and remind myself to breathe. I sip the cold water, not minding as condensation runs down my hand and puddles in my lap. I’ll never wear this dress again anyway.

Ashlyn is hugging someone I don’t recognize, engulfed in a conversation she doesn’t want to have. Tish is alone. She smiles at me and shakes her head at what she thinks is my weakness.

I want to jump out of my chair, grab her, and shake her. Hard. She has no idea how strong I am.

“Feeling better?” Lance asks. “You looked really pale for a minute, like you were going to faint or something.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Do I need to speak to anyone else?” I’m shielded from the remaining mourners in line by Jennifer and Lance who stand side by side to create a sort of protective screen blocking the view of what they decided was my near fainting.

“You can be finished. You’re not feeling well. You’ve done enough,” Jennifer says. “We’ll tell the rest to send you a note of condolence. They’re happily joining the celebration of life cocktail party.”

My shoulders relax. I glance up just as Tish darts down the center aisle of the room and out of sight. Ashlyn stands