Page 124 of Sunday Morning

“I’m glad she’s dead.”

He winced before offering the tiniest nod.

“Did you love her?”

He ran a finger along a scratch on the table. “I cared about her if that’s what you mean.”

When I didn’t respond, he risked a glance at me.

I shook my head. “You do it for love, or you don’t do it at all.”

He hummed. “Are you speaking from experience?”

I shrugged, wadding the dirty tissue in my hand. “I don’t know. I wasn’t married when I cheated.” I studied his reaction, having no idea if he knew anything for certain about my weekend with Isaac. There were so many unknowns.

Did Matt tell him about the barn?

Did Vi know about Brenda?

I hated the secrets.

“Cheating?” With a slight grin, he shook his head. “Sarah, you’re right. You’re not married. You’re a young woman finding your footing in the world. Unless you’re doing something with a married man, I don’t think you qualify as a cheater.”

“That wouldn’t make me a cheater. It would make me a homewrecker.”

“I suppose.” He pursed his lips. “Not all affairs wreck homes.”

“How can you say that?” I canted my head to the side.

“Because I have a wife and two sons.”

“And a dead mistress.” As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back.

Wesley’s eyes reddened again as he swallowed hard.

“Why?” I whispered. “Why do that to your wife? Why risk it?”

He rubbed his temples. “It’s not as simple as you think.”

“I’m listening.”

Wesley shook his head. “I appreciate your willingness to listen. You’re a good person, Sarah. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. But some things are personal, complicated, and far from what they seem on the surface.” He rested his elbow on the table with his chin in his hand. “You don’t deserve the burden of my life or the story of my marriage. I’m a flawed man who lost my way after something happened. It’s not an excuse for anything that I’ve done. And the pain and—” He fisted his hand at his mouth and shook his head.

The tears fell, and his body trembled.

I wasn’t expecting that level of reaction. Did Vi leave him? Was it all about Brenda?

“I’m sorry,” he said with a strained voice. “I’msosorry.”

I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

He rubbed his eyes, and the pain in them said otherwise.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

Wesley dug his hanky out of his pocket and wiped his eyes and nose. “Anything.”

“I need a ride to a motel in town.”