Page 35 of One to Hold (One to Hold 1)

“I’m minutes away. Are you ready?”

Relief washed over me in a wave so powerful, I had to sit on my bed. “Yes, I’m ready. I’m ready now.” I felt the breakdown threatening, but I had to be strong. “Oh, Elaine. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, honey,” she cried. “I’d be there even faster if I could.”

I ended the call and pulled myself up by force of will. I had to collect the last of my things. I had to make sure I wasn’t leaving behind anything I couldn’t live without. I was never looking back.

Opening my closet, I dug through the remaining shoeboxes and old photo albums. The good news was most everything I cared about was i

n Wilmington now, and as depressing as it sounded, there was very little I wanted to keep from these days in Baltimore. I was just zipping up the large suitcase when I heard the light knock on my door. Looking up, I saw Sloan standing there, a severe line between his light-brown eyebrows.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

I jumped back from the suitcase as if electrocuted. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be at your office.”

“Gladys said you were acting strangely, and I should come home.”

“Mrs. Widlow,” I breathed. As if a switch inside me was flipped, the whole idea that every single person in this house watched me like a rebellious teenager and reported back to Sloan set me off.

The depression I’d been feeling over Derek turned into rage, and I jerked the suitcase off my bed. “There’s nothing strange going on,” I said, stalking over to my dresser and jerking open the small top drawer. I grasped the pepper spray canister, aiming it straight at his face. “I’m leaving this place. And if you try to stop me, I’ll spray you.”

Sloan’s eyebrow cocked, and he held both hands up as if I’d just pulled a gun. “By all means, leave,” he breathed a short laugh. It only fueled my rage.

“Don’t test me, Sloan. There’s nothing I’d love more than to burn your eyes out.”

At that he dropped his hands and walked out. “Have a safe drive,” he called over his shoulder.

Just then, Elaine jogged up the main stairway. When she and Sloan met each other, they both stopped. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what might happen. My best friend looked at my almost ex-husband as if he were Osama bin Laden, and he looked at her as if she were a witch.

I jerked up the handle on my suitcase and stalked down the hall, rolling it behind me. “I’m here, Elaine!” I called. “Don’t bother with him. It’s time to go.”

Her brow softened, and she turned from Sloan to me. “Let’s go,” she repeated.

On my way out, my eyes landed on a stack of envelopes sitting on the small table by the front door. The mail! I paused only briefly to spread them out, and my breath caught when I saw it—Aunt Bea’s check! It came! I nearly burst into tears at the sight of it. The envelope restored the tiniest bit of hope I needed. I was going to survive this. I was going to be okay. I might be alone, but I was going to make it through.

I snatched it up and walked out the door not looking back. I would never look back.

We lifted my huge suitcase into Elaine’s car and jumped inside. I watched as she guided us out of the long driveway away from the Reynolds mansion, but when we reached the main road, I put my hand on her arm.

“Wait before we get going.” My chest ached with what I was about to ask my best friend, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to have closure. “There’s something I need to do first. Will you help me?”

Her brows drew together, but she waited. “Of course, what is it?”

I pulled out the three pages that included Derek’s email and Sloan’s response. “I printed this off Sloan’s computer. Would you read it to me?”

Elaine was still frowning, but she took the sheets from me. “To [email protected]” Instantly she lowered the pages and looked at me. “Is this… Derek?”

“Please just read it,” I said, every muscle in my body clenched.

“Derek, I hope you remember your old mentor Sloan.” She stopped again, taking a breath and staring at me, brows clutched.

“Keep going,” I whispered.

“I found you online, and I hope you might be willing to do a favor for an old friend. Of course, I’ll pay you well.” Again she stopped. “Oh, Mel. I don’t think I can—”

“Please, Elaine.” My voice was sharp now. “Just read the damn email.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m afraid my wife is having an affair, and I need someone I can trust to verify this for me. Attached is her photograph and information. She is somewhere this week. She wouldn’t tell me where. I think it might be with him.”