The last thing he wanted was to think about what had been done to her by another man, one who’d married her and failed to cherish her.
“Oh. No.” She set the spatula down in the pan with a thunk, covered her mouth with both hands and her eyes widened. She looked a little green around the edges as she spun, racing toward the bedroom. Her skirts swished, her patched shoes beat against the floorboards and the door slammed shut behind her.
He was alone again.
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