The Desperate Husband
ALISTAIR’S POV:
But sometimes, in some of the moments, I had missed it.
I thought about the way Mary used to look at me when I wore it. The pride in her eyes, the small smile that played at the corners of her mouth. She had bought it with her own money, saved up for weeks, picked it out with care. It had been a gift of love and not obligation.
And I had thrown it away.
I had told her it wasn’t appropriate for someone like me. I had told her it was too casual, too ordinary, too common. I had watched her face fall, watched the light dim in her eyes, and I had said nothing to comfort her.
The collar of the Chanel suit pressed against my throat, tight and uncomfortable.
“I knew you’d like it,” Vesper said, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “You look so handsome.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
But the collar was still tight, and my mind was still elsewhere.
Who had Mary gone to meet today?
I had asked Marl, casually, over the phone. The conversation had been brief, clipped, the type of exchange that happened between men who had known each other too long to bother with pleasantries.
“I need to know who she was with,” I had said.
Marl had laughed. “Why do you care? You’re with Vesper now, aren’t you?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
I had felt my jaw tighten. “Who was she with?”
Marl had refused to tell me directly. That was typical of him. He enjoyed watching his friends grow anxious, enjoyed holding information just out of reach. But I trusted him enough to know he wasn’t lying.
He had only said one thing. That Mary had met a handsome man and that they had talked happily together in a café.



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