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Jolie waited, feeling on the edge of a bottomless chasm. Drew’s tall form filled her vision. A button looked loose on the front of his denim shirt, she noticed, and felt the urge to scream rise inside her.

"You can have Bennett Ludlow represent you if you want," he said. His voice was low. Husky. "He’s right here in town, so it’ll be convenient for you. I’ll find a lawyer from over in Braden."

Had she ever felt this cold in her life? Only by clenching her jaw was she able to keep her teeth from chattering. "Lawyers. You...want a divorce, then. That’s what you’re saying."

He didn’t answer immediately and she felt a quick dart of hope. But then he silently inclined his head. Just once. And hope died.

Drew no longer wanted her as his wife.

Maybe later she’d appreciate the irony of the situation. Unwanted by both Taggart brothers in one lifetime. But right now, right this minute, she could barely draw breath. "And Evan?"

Finally, Drew showed some emotion. His jaw cocked to one side and he shoved one hand through his hair, leaving it in disheveled black waves that made her fingers long to stroke back from his brow. "You can have anything you want, Jolie. But I won’t lose my son."

No, you’ll just throw away your wife. The cry went unspoken. One thing was clear. If she didn’t leave his presence right this second, she was going to break down. "You built this place," she said stiffly. "You’ll stay here."

Then she turned on her heel and went into their bedroom. She pushed the door closed, hearing it latch very, very quietly. Her vision blurred as she leaned back against the door panel. After a long moment, she heard the creak of a floor board. The scrape of a boot.

And then...nothing.

She slid down the door and buried her face in her hands, tears slowly scalding their way down her cheeks.

"What do you mean you and Evan have moved into Rebecca’s old apartment?"

Despite the horrified question from Hope, Jolie continued sorting mail into the post office boxes. She tried to have the mail in the boxes by 10 very morning. The townspeople counted on it. "I mean we’ve moved. As of yesterday."

"But...but why?"

She wouldn’t cry. She just would not. She’d spent all last night in tears, muffling them in her pillow so she wouldn’t disturb Evan in the next room. He’d made no secret of his confusion of the turn of events that had them hastily packing some of their clothes and moving from their wood-surrounded ranch house to the apartment that had once been Dr. Rebecca’s home before she’d married Sawyer Clay.

Jolie was confused, too.

And surely by now there weren’t any tears left inside her.

"Ask Drew," she told her friend. "He’s the one who decided it." She slotted the last letter and slammed shut the hinged metal door.

"Tristan hasn’t said anything to me. He and Drew are best friends but I don’t think Drew’s told him a thing." Hope’s violet eyes were shocked behind her delicate gold-framed glasses.

She followed Jolie back out to the front counter of the small — and mercifully empty — post office. "I don’t understand this. I thought you guys were the perfect couple."

So much for not having any tears left. "You and Tristan are the perfect couple," Jolie corrected. She dashed her fingers across her damp cheek and blindly began straightening the mailing supplies stacked on the counter. "You love him and he loves you."

Hope frowned. "What are you saying? Don’t you love him?"

The slippery express mail envelopes scattered all over again. "Yes, I love Drew. But he doesn’t love me, Hope," she admitted miserably. "He never has. And I need to start facing the fact that he never will."