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

Don’t worry, Ashlyn. We’ll be fine. I make that silent promise to my little girl as I watch her. Ashlyn and I will come together. We’re family. We’ll reconnect. She just doesn’t realize that everything I do, I do for her. She’ll understand. It will just take time. I’m all she has now.

As for Tish, I know her type. She’ll take the money and run. I am almost Tish-free.

“Ashlyn, ready to head home?” I don’t tell my daughter that I have a lot of work to do making sure this IPO doesn’t fall apart with John’s death. I know she doesn’t understand. She’d call me work obsessed.

Ashlyn stands frozen at the front of the stage, alone, staring at her phone. When I call her name, she blinks, as if she’d forgotten where she was.

My heart is heavy for my daughter. There is no telling what effect all this will have on her. John and I tried our best to be great parents. He couldn’t help his shortcomings, I suppose. But over time, I’ll help her see things clearly.

“I have some stuff to do, Mom. I’ll see you back at the house later.” Ashlyn picks up her purse from the floor. It looks just like Tish’s purse. The bags were like twins sitting side by side. Likely from one of their girls’ shopping trips. Another thing Ashlyn faults me for, my complete lack of interest in shopping. She can’t believe I outsource it to my stylist. I’m pretty much a big disappointment.

She’s practically running down the aisle of the ballroom. What is so important? I hope she isn’t meeting up with Tish.

She wouldn’t do that, of course not.

CHAPTER 22

TISH

It’s nice to be outside, away from those ghoulish people who wanted to touch my shoulder, hug me. Yuck. As I begin to walk to my car, I stop in my tracks when I see a surprise. Ashlyn walked out the door, too. Maybe she wants to make up? We’ll have a mother-daughter parking lot chat. How wonderful. Or not. She’s giving me a strange look.

Interesting.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” The poor little rich girl and I have barely spoken since I flew home with John’s body. Not his body exactly, his cremains. Strange word, isn’t it?

“Fine.” She crosses her arms, a smirk on her face. The designer bag I bought her hangs from her shoulder.

“You know I loved your dad. More than anything. And I’ll always be here for you.” I take a step toward her.

“He didn’t want to go to Telluride. You know it,” Ashlyn proclaims. “He was dreading it. He was supposed to have dinner with me. Why’d you make him go?”

“He needed a getaway. A break. You wouldn’t understand all the pressure he was under. The IPO was overwhelming, among other things that were taking up his attention. But I won’t fill you in on that adult stuff. He was overly stressed.”

“This doesn’t make sense. Dad was happy. He loved working on the IPO. And once that was finished, he was going to dump you.” Ashlyn takes a step toward me. “I think you knew it, and you did something to him.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic. He had a heart attack. Look at the death certificate. You should be nice to me. I’m running EventCo now.” Am I yelling? No, just speaking with conviction.

Ashlyn steps back, shaking her head. Over her shoulder, I see Jennifer hurrying toward us.

“Everything good, ladies?” Jennifer says, stepping into our standoff like an annoying watchdog.

Jennifer places a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder. “Where’s your car, honey?”

“Over there,” Ashlyn says, still staring at me.

“Why don’t you get going, Tish?” Jennifer says.

“Good idea. Glad this is over. Is there anything else we’re supposed to suffer through?”

“The funeral?” Ashlyn spews out the words as if I forgot or something.

“I know that. It’s tomorrow. I planned it. I’ll be there, of course. But today? I’m outta here.” I check my watch. I’m not busy, but I’ll pretend to be. “I have an appointment.” I blow a kiss to Ashlyn, just for show, and walk to my car, swinging my hips.

I sense the dagger eyes of the two women behind me slicing into my back. Whatever. I stop, turn around, and wave toward them. Ashlyn and Jennifer ignore me.

I’m surprised how bright the sun is today. The windowless ballroom, with its artificial light and heavy, tearful mourners, would make you think it’s dark out.

I slide behind the wheel of John’s beloved silver Audi. It must be 150 degrees in here. I turn the air-conditioning to high as I inhale the smell of his aftershave, still very much present in the leather seats. His aura, his scent, is all around me. There’s a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling like dread. I shake it off. It was all his fault, what happened to him. He couldn’t take the altitude, the pressure at work, the pace of a younger wife. But it was everything he wanted. I was everything he wanted. Until he didn’t. And then, well, RIP.

I pull out of the parking lot and turn into traffic. For John, I drive fast, even though I’m on a suburban street, weaving in between cars just like John does. Used to do. I need to stop dwelling on John. I need to move on, move forward. I smile as I scoot through an orange-yellow light and drive into the matching sunset. Poetic, isn’t it?

This day is finished, and it’s a relief to be heading home. I have one more ceremony to suffer through, and then on to my new life. I thought I’d be so happy being Mrs. John Nelson. I imagined myself a younger version of Kate, a hip parent to Ashlyn. But then he turned his back on me, on our life.

It’s time to recreate myself. I’ll become a powerhouse, like Kate. I turn up the radio. It’s John’s favorite station, classic rock, most recorded before I was