Take a Chance on Me(45)

“I think it’s best this way. You can’t spill what you don’t know.”

“Ha! I never break.”

“I know.”

Another long, put-upon sigh. “So tomorrow then?”

Maddie traced the detailed etching on the desk. “Tomorrow.”

Maddie took a deep breath, her heart pounding against her ribs as she disconnected the call. She had to bite the bullet and get it done. She picked up the receiver, blocked the number, and dialed as fast as she could before she lost her nerve. Steve’s cell phone rang three times before he said hello.

She experienced a moment of unbridled panic before composing herself. “Steve, it’s Maddie.”

“Thank goodness. How are you?” He sounded completely normal, like she had called him to check in after work.

“I’m fine,” she said, as cold sweat broke out on her temples.

“Where are you? I’ll come get you,” Steve said calmly.

“No!” she shouted; then she lowered her shrill tone. “Look, I’m . . . I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.”

He clucked his tongue, and the sound vibrated through her, making her stomach twist. “I’d thought we’d gotten this impetuousness under control a long time ago, Madeline.”

The condescension lacing his words was like nails on a chalkboard, and she stiffened, tensing all of her muscles. This was where she failed: he knew her weakness—her guilt. Even worse, he understood where it came from. But she couldn’t buy into it, not anymore. Not if she wanted to make changes in her life. She ignored the dig. “Please leave Penelope and Sophie alone. I didn’t tell them where I was, and I’m not going to. In fact, I’m not telling anyone because I don’t want to be found.”

A long, tension-filled silence. “And how are you going to survive without any money?”

Maddie sucked in a breath. Had Steve had something to do with her credit card being reported stolen?

The idea had never crossed her mind. She’d chalked up the declined card to a mix-up at the bank and hadn’t given the incident another thought.

No, he wouldn’t. She was looking for a reason to assign blame. Steve wouldn’t do something so underhanded.

But the notion wouldn’t break hold; instead, it burrowed deeper until she was compelled to ask, “How do you know I don’t have any money?”

A pause. “It’s logical. Your wallet and purse were with the rest of our luggage.”

“How do you know I don’t have a credit card with me?”

Another too-long beat. “I’d told you I didn’t want you to worry about anything on your wedding day so I’d take care of paying all the vendors.”

The logic was perfect. The argument was sound, without a hole in sight.

She didn’t buy it. “I gave you my records a couple weeks ago because you wanted to go through them to get a handle on finances. You have my information.”

“How is this the point, Madeline?” Steve’s voice was totally reasonable and totally wrong for a man who’d been ditched at the altar. “We have bigger problems to worry about. Don’t you agree?”

He was right. This was about the time in their normal disagreements that she let it go. “Steve, did you report my credit cards as stolen?”


A long sigh. “For heaven’s sake. You’re being silly.”

In a quiet voice, she said, “You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m not going to dignify such a ridiculous question with a response. We’re wasting time. Tell me where you are so I can come get you.”

Right then, she knew he’d reported the card stolen. She didn’t need any more confirmation. She asked softly, “Don’t you even want to know why?”

“What are you talking about?” His tone was finally tinged with the first hint of aggravation.

A laugh slipped from her lips from out of nowhere, and she shook her head. “You really don’t, do you?”

“I’m getting tired of this, Maddie. Stop with these childish games and tell me where you are.”

A week ago, the manipulation would have worked, but today, nothing. She wasn’t going to budge. She straightened, more composed and centered than she’d felt in a long time. “No, Steve. And stop calling Penelope and Sophie.”

“Madeline,” Steve said, tone gentling. “Let’s talk about this and work things out.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You’re being very selfish.”

The jab hit her right in the solar plexus, but she refused to give in to the pattern. She swallowed past a dry throat. “Yeah, you’re right. Consider yourself lucky to be rid of me.”

“Mad—”

She cut him off. “Good-bye, Steve.”

She hung up. Yes, Steve was right: she was being selfish. But so what? The heavens hadn’t opened and poured vengeance upon her. She hadn’t been struck by plague or lightning. In fact, she felt . . . good. Better than good: awesome.

Maybe she was on the path to hell, but she was going to enjoy the ride before she started on the path to redemption.





Mitch scrubbed a wet cloth over the old bar’s chipped, faded surface, hating the place more with each passing swipe. Sure, he could make improvements to drive in business. Big Red’s in the next town was always crowded, so it wasn’t like the people in the area didn’t drink. But every time he gave it any serious consideration, he found something else to do. He didn’t want changes, didn’t want to invest. If he did, it’d be admitting that this was what he did.