“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but he’d said it so many times it was an automatic response that no longer held any meaning for either of them.

“Today, when you said you left Crescent City because you missed us and wanted to be with us, I thought…”

He glanced at her in the mirror, saw her nostrils flare.

“Well, I assumed you were home for the rest of the weekend. And you know I thought that.”

The last sentence dripped with accusation. In order to sidestep a major blowout, he decided to play dumb. “So? What are you getting at?”

“I’m wondering why you weren’t courteous enough to disabuse me of that notion.”

Because she would’ve started pouting and might’ve refused him sex.

“Rick?” Mercedes prompted when he didn’t respond.

Here we go again…. “I didn’t know I’d have to leave tonight.”

It was easier to lie, but he’d been too obvious about it. The disappointment he’d created by setting her up for this reversal made her pounce.

“That’s not true,” she snapped, coming to the door.

He didn’t bother arguing. “Sorry.”

Ignoring his second empty apology, she blocked his path and he realized it hadn’t been very smart to let her box him in. “Can’t we have even a partial weekend as a family?” she asked.

“We had dinner. That was more than we would’ve had if I’d stayed in Crescent City.”

“Dinner? You think I should be happy with one meal together in a whole week?”

“We had more than a meal.”

She rolled her eyes at his meaningful grin. “You were home just long enough to lift my nightgown so you could get off, and now you’re leaving.”

He should’ve gone to the trouble of pleasuring her. Then maybe she wouldn’t be acting like this. But he’d been so preoccupied…. “Better your nightgown than someone else’s, right?” He chuckled as if he was joking, but the anger that flashed in her eyes told him he’d been made on that, too.

“What are you saying?”

He sobered. “I’m saying that at least I still come home for it.” Usually. “That’s something.”

“It’s not enough. Not anymore.”

“Come on, Mercedes.” He hung his head, implying that he felt bad, but he didn’t. Not really. They fought so often, he’d grown numb. “Please?”

“Please, what? Please don’t ask for anything? Please don’t expect you to behave like a husband? Please don’t demand that you do your part in our relationship or as the father of this family?”

Jerking his head up, he shot her a look that said he was tired of hearing the same old complaints. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to miss my plane.”

She didn’t move out of the way. “I want you to quit your job.”

He gaped at her. “Are you kidding? How would we pay the bills?”

“You could find something else.”

“Nothing that’ll pay what I’m making now!”

“Then I’ll go to work, too. I need to get out, anyway, make a change. I’d do anything to fix what’s wrong. Our children need to see more of their father. I need…” She let her words dangle, probably because she knew how selfish they sounded. “I can’t take the neglect, Rick.”

“Neglect?” He grimaced. “If you want to get off and I’m not around, use a damn dildo. Maybe you need to grow up and start fulfilling yourself a little bit instead of relying on me.”

“I’m not talking about sex!”

“Then what are you talking about? You think it’s my fault we’re having trouble? How do you know it’s not you? Maybe you don’t like that I have to work so much, but I don’t like that you’re so needy. It makes my skin crawl.”

He actually shuddered. The minute that registered on her face, he wished he could take it back. It was the stress—the pressure he was under. Maybe Mercedes had gained some weight, and maybe she’d let herself go in other ways. He couldn’t help finding her drab and worn compared to the women who caught his eye. Compared to Peyton, who particularly appealed to him. But he still loved her. Didn’t he?

“I wasn’t needy until I married you,” she said. “You made me like this.” He heard their youngest daughter come into the living room then, yelling “Daddy!” and Mercedes dropped her voice. “And sometimes I hate you for it.”

“You hate me?”

He expected her to deny it. He’d taken her words out of context. She hadn’t really said she hated him. But she didn’t attempt to correct him; she stood there, glaring at him through those hazel eyes that seemed years older than when he’d looked into them last.

“Mercedes?” he prompted.

“I hate what you’ve turned me into,” she finally declared.

The tears that streamed down her cheeks made it possible for him to breathe again. She didn’t mean it. It wasn’t as if she’d ever leave him. “We’ll talk about it when I get back, okay? I promise. And…and maybe we’ll get counseling.” She’d been begging him to go to a therapist for more than a year. Maybe if he gave her that hope, she’d calm down and he’d be free to do what he had to do before dealing with his marriage.

“If we don’t get help, we won’t make it,” she told him dully, and turned, like a tired old hag in her sloppy sweats, to do the laundry.

Rick knew he should put his arms around her, comfort her, tell her he still loved her and offer a sincere apology. He could see how she’d feel used. When they made love, he pretended she was someone else, someone more attractive. And lately that someone had been Peyton. Fantasizing about another woman wasn’t the best thing for their relationship. He owed Mercedes more. But he couldn’t bring himself to touch her right now. He kept seeing Peyton’s bright eyes, beautiful face and perfect figure, and the contrast between them was just too great; he was losing all desire for his own wife.

Or maybe it was Mercedes’s fault for not taking better care of herself. If she was more attractive, he’d want her—as long as she could stop acting like a bitch when he needed a little understanding.

Regardless, they’d have to solve their problems later. If he didn’t make this flight, Laurel might not survive the night. Then he wouldn’t have the option to quit; he’d be fired.

“Listen, I—I’ll call you later, okay? I wouldn’t go tonight if I had any choice, but…something big is going on at work. Something that came down from the governor himself. This isn’t optional. It’s flattering that they’ve chosen me to implement it. And I would’ve told you I had to leave except…I knew it would upset you and I didn’t want to deal with the backlash. You can understand that, can’t you? I’m so tired of fighting.”

“You can’t be any more tired of it than I am,” she said.

“Daddy?” Ruby came to their bedroom. “You’re leaving again?” she asked, and the disappointment in her voice and on her face so mirrored her mother’s he could barely bring himself to swipe a kiss across her cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, princess,” he said, and went to tell his other daughter goodbye.

7

Peyton wanted to know more about the crime for which Virgil Skinner had lost fourteen years of his life. She also wanted to know more about his mother and his uncle and what they’d done to help or hurt him.

Figuring there had to be some details about him in the media, a piece on his exoneration if not the crime, she went online and began to search. Because he’d been incarcerated in Colorado, she first visited the website of the Denver Post and was pleasantly surprised to find an article dated two weeks ago.

Convicted Murderer Exonerated

After Fourteen Years

Virgil Skinner, thirty-two, was only eighteen when he was convicted for the murder of his stepfather, Martin Crawley, who was forty-six at the time. Given a life sentence for shooting Crawley with Crawley’s own gun, which was kept in the house, Skinner wasn’t expected to see a parole board for thirty years.