"Trust me. He won't go through with it. Without me, he's nothing."
In Hildegarde's eyes, Wilfred had always been nothing more than a glorified housekeeper. For five years, all he'd done was cook, clean, and watch the children. He had no skills, no career, no standing.
She refused to believe a man who depended entirely on her would actually dare leave.
What would he eat? Where would he go?
She was convinced he couldn't survive a single day on his own.
"He'll come crawling back tonight."
She lifted Hilary into her arms and turned to face the guests with an apologetic bow. "I'm sorry, everyone. Forgive the spectacle."
"Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Pruitt. Couples argue. He'll be back before you know it."
"Honestly, a woman of your caliber, your looks—married to him? What a waste."
"If you ask me, you and Patrick are the real match."
"Patrick! How about a toast with Ms. Pruitt? A lovers' cup!"
"Yes, yes! A toast!"
Patrick raised his glass, gazing at Hildegarde with practiced tenderness. "Hildegarde, you've put up with so much these past five years. Let me drink to you."
"Thank you, Patrick. But I'm not feeling well. I'll pass."
She shook her head.