And if nothing else, she would be gaining his full cooperation on a complete separation. No more phone calls.

Neck tight and body rigid, Ella felt the beginnings of a migraine and knew she had to get up. A sliding glass door led out to the back deck.

Moving stealthily, she pulled on a pair of thick socks, exchanged her pajamas for the jeans and sweater she’d worn that night, grabbed her sweater coat to ward off the fall chill and slowly and carefully lowered the latch to the door. The baby stirred when she slid open the door, and she froze. He settled and she slipped outside, shivering, and quickly got into her sweater, wrapping it around her and securing it tightly at her waist.

They were in the crazy time of year when days reached the high seventies but nights could drop to the forties.

The deck had been built a story above ground and was gated at the top of the steps leading up to it, hopefully precluding any wildlife from sharing the space with her.

It was dark, the moon almost completely hidden by the trees, but she knew her way around enough to find the padded lounge furniture and settle into a chair. Cool air chilled her face and fingers, the only exposed parts of her, but not enough to drive her back inside.

“Disclaimer. I’m here.”

Ella turned with a jerk toward the whispered sound. Brett was upright in a chair angled away but not two feet from her.

Her heart pounded out of fear, shock at finding herself not alone, and continued to pound even after the shock wore off. Brett had a way of eliciting that reaction from her.

“I’ll go back in,” she said, arms wrapped around herself as she started to rise.

“Don’t go on my account,” he told her. Still fully dressed, he lifted a beer to his lips. The same one he’d nursed during the game of cards they’d played before Jeff and Chloe ran off to have sex?

Or was he breaking his self-imposed limit? Not that three beers would even put a man his size over the legal limit, but Brett didn’t break his self-imposed limitations.

Not ever. She’d noticed that the couple times they’d had wine he’d stuck to his two-glass limit.

And why was he sitting alone in the dark?

None of her business. Or concern.

She should just leave him to it.

But she couldn’t do it. That had always been part of their problem. Her need to share his life with him.

“Would you be interested in taking a walk down to the boat?” he asked. “I left a small cooler of bottled water down there, and I’d like a chance to speak with you,” he continued as though they met like this every night.

She couldn’t say no to that request, either. So she got up and walked silently with him down the yard to the dock and even took his hand to steady herself as she stepped onto the pontoon boat that was swaying on the water.

The lagoon was dark, occupied only by docks from other summer residences. But because it was fed from the ocean, it was alive and even sometimes rocky as waves came into shore.

The boat had a couple of seating areas. Couches and chairs. She went to the back, where she was somewhat sheltered from the night air by a canvas half wall, and dropped into a chair.

After grabbing the small cooler at the front of the boat and bringing it back with him, Brett took the chair across from her, still with his beer in hand.

Silently he offered her one. Jeff had stocked the on-board refrigerator earlier in the day.

She shook her head.

“What’s up?” He’d been right to lead them away from the house. At least out here they wouldn’t have to worry about waking anyone. Or being overheard.

“I think after this weekend it’s pretty clear that the problem isn’t Jeff.”

Ella stared out in the direction of the ocean, watching for lights from ships to pass by their alcove. “How so?” she asked, carefully assessing. Carefully guarding.

Herself. Her heart. Her future. Chloe. She didn’t know what.

“I know the signs of abuse, El, and he doesn’t show any of them. He’s not controlling of Chloe—quite the opposite, really. He allows her to call the shots. He caters to her now as he always did.”

She’d noticed. And noticed, too, that she was alone, on a boat on the ocean, with the man she still loved.

“There’s no change that I can see in either of them,” Brett continued. “Personality-wise, or in their relationship, other than a certain emotional distance Chloe keeps from him. Timidity, maybe.”

Clearly he’d given the situation a lot of thought. He’d been sitting in the dark alone, with a houseful of people in bed behind him.

So Brett.

So heartbreaking.

“That’s a sign of abuse,” she had to point out.

“Not by itself, it’s not. It’s a sign that she’s struggling. Jeff doesn’t overdrink. He’s not short-tempered. Hasn’t shown anger once in this whole situation. At least not that I’ve witnessed, and certainly not even a hint of tension since we’ve been here.”

“We’re on vacation, Brett. Time out of time. There’s no responsibility. Nothing to stress about.” Other than the situation itself. One divorced couple and another one, estranged, sharing a cabin.

It was soap-opera fodder for sure.

But they’d all done great. As Brett had said, it had been a wonderful weekend. If she didn’t count the tension building inside her. She was tight enough that she could snap with the smallest provocation. A sensation she hadn’t experienced in ages—but one that had been her constant companion for the first year after Brett turned his back on her.

She’d thought she’d left that part of her behind. That she’d recovered from it. From him.

Brett tipped his bottle to his lips. Maybe he felt some of the tension, too.

“He’s a great dad. Patient. But firm, too. Cody was clearly happy to see him. I think back to vacations with my dad and, even when we were having fun, there was always this underlying sense of being on a tightrope that could snap at any moment.” Brett was definitely focused on Jeff and Chloe.

While Ella sat there filling up her senses with him.

He was right, though. Cody had shown no signs of being afraid of his father. Or even hesitant around him. To the contrary, he’d begged to ride on his daddy’s shoulders. “Up! Up!” he’d cried again and again since they’d been here. Whether they were walking down to the dock at the bottom of the yard or just to the bathroom for a bath, Cody had wanted Jeff to carry him.

But Ella had another memory, too. One she’d forgotten about until that afternoon. The boat rocked and she held on, riding the small swell. “I was at their house about six months ago. Jeff had asked Cody if he wanted up, and Cody ran behind his mother and hid. I just thought it was because he was going through a phase where he was afraid of heights, but I asked Chloe about it this afternoon.”

“What’d she say?”

“That Jeff had grabbed Cody by the arm the day before and shook him once, asking him couldn’t he just leave him alone for a damned minute, when Cody had asked to be picked up. Jeff had just come home from work, and Cody had run to greet him.”

“We all get impatient. Most particularly after a hard day at work. And clearly it’s not something that Cody remembers.”

“According to Chloe, Jeff shook him so hard, he cried.”

“Did he leave a bruise?” The question sounded more informational than doubtful.

“Chloe said no.” But she’d looked away when she’d said so. And Ella had sworn she’d seen guilt in the other woman’s eyes. But then Jeff had called to her to get the life vests so they could go out on the boat, and the moment had been lost.

“I’m worried, Brett,” she said now. “I think Chloe’s in denial, too. That maybe things are worse than she let on.”

Brett shook his head. “Sometimes you worry too much, El.” He spoke with a strange hint of affection in his voice. A familiar tone that sent a tingling through her. “I’m telling you, I know the signs. I lived with them for too many years to miss one.”