The Heiress by CATHY GILLEN THACKER

remember?”
    “For good reason, if you recall,” she reminded him.
    Tom shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah, because you put a wall between us.”
    “We had children, a home together…” She spoke as if she didn’t believe he was turning the tables on her.
    But Tom knew it was the truth. And he knew, whether she liked it or not, it was past time his wife faced just how cold and unaffectionate she had been prior to his interlude with Iris. “Yes, Grace, you distanced yourself from me.”
    “I was depressed! Finding out I was sterile was a devastating blow.”
    Or an excuse. Tom tread nearer, trying not to recall how much he had wanted to make love to her then, how much—despite everything—he still did. “We already had four children, Grace.”
    “Five,” Grace countered miserably, “if you count the baby we lost when I miscarried, the year after Amy was born.”
    “But you wanted more, didn’t you?” Tom remembered bleakly. And when she couldn’t have them, she had completely turned away from him, in her heart and in their marriage.
    “We both wanted more kids. Half a dozen, remember?” Grace’s voice became a strangled sob as she forged on. “Only I couldn’t because of the complications I had after the miscarriage. But that didn’t stop you, did it?” Her eyes gleamed with hurt as she reminded, “Because you went right on to have another child without me—you had Daisy.”
    Tom saw it all—the jealousy, envy, resentment—that another woman had given him what Grace no longer could. “That was never meant to be more than one night,” he told her with gut-wrenching honesty.
    Grace stared at him and slowly shook her head, appearing as if she could hardly believe his naiveté. “That night created a child, Tom. It destroyed our family.” Tears flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “But you can’t admit that to yourself even now, can you? You persist in saying and feeling I should just get over it.”
    Tom swallowed hard. “Why can’t you?” he demanded, feeling more frustrated than ever.
    Grace threw her hands up. “You know why I can’t! Because you betrayed me.”
    Tom clamped down on his own hurt. Jaw set, he said, “I made a mistake.” It had been a bad one, yes. But it should not have ended their marriage.
    “You ripped my heart in two,” Grace accused with insurmountable bitterness.
    And, Tom thought sadly, she had never allowed him to put it back together again.
    Grace turned away from him and walked over to the edge of the deck. Her back to the marina, she stared out at the harbor, and the coming together of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said in a low, defeated voice.
    Tom crossed to her side. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her resisting body to face him. “How can you say that?” he asked hoarsely. Didn’t she understand—would she never understand—his heart had been ripped into pieces, too?
    “Because—” Grace turned her sad eyes up to his and continued dejectedly “—it would’ve happened eventually anyway.” She paused, shook her head in silent remonstration. “My grief and depression were just an excuse to do what you already wanted to do in your heart, Tom, what you had probably always wanted to do, which was forget the wife you had at home and bed down with some young, rich and sexy society girl.”
    “That’s not true. It was you, Grace, who didn’t want me. ”
    Anger flared at the corners of her mouth. “Will you stop blaming me for what you did that night?” She balled her hands into fists. “You walked out on me, Tom. You answered Iris’s distress call and went to her apartment. You unzipped your pants, took off your trousers, and you were with her. And you probably would’ve kept right on seeing her if I hadn’t found you two.”
    Tom knew it had been an ugly time. All because he’d had too much pride to go to Grace and tell her how lonely—how bereft and shut out—he felt. He should