Chapter One
Vivian couldn't think of the precise word for what she felt, as she stared at
the small squirming mass of flesh. Disbelief? Shock? Dread? Detachment?
Loathing? Disgust? Even nausea. None of them was strong enough alone, and there
was no one word that encompassed everything she felt. Hatred? No. Any hatred she
had was reserved for Walter. It had been that way for a while. She wasn't a
hating kind of person, but he'd forced her, and she finally gave in. She
sometimes wondered if her habit of keeping a good black suit ready, still in the
thin plastic cleaner's bag, was wishful thinking. She couldn't remember the
first time she'd thought, on hearing his car in the driveway, "Why couldn't he
have been killed in a car wreck?" There had been so many times. This night had
been no different. The clock over the mantle said 10:45. Even for a Monday, he
was early.
"Does it have a name?" she asked.
It was the only question she could think of. What would be the proper question
to ask your husband of nearly twenty years, when he brings home his baby by
another woman, and without a word, casually places the carrier on the table, as
though it were a bag of groceries you'd asked him to pick up on the way? She
stared at the lit ... read full excerpt from Price of Passion ebook
