Hostile Wife
To Have & To Hold, Book 2
Sherri Banks-Howitt has spent nearly a year running from the man she married, convinced that Silas betrayed her in the worst way possible. She's built a new life without him, hidden her heartbreak behind lawyer's letters and carefully constructed silence. But when a summons arrives regarding her late mother-in-law's will, Sherri realizes her escape has an expiration date. She'll have to face Silas again, and worse, she'll have to hide the truth she's been carrying alone.
Silas Howitt never stopped fighting for his wife, even when she refused to hear him. He knows Sherri left believing a lie, and he's desperate to prove his innocence before the divorce becomes final. When his aunt's will creates an unexpected opportunity to keep Sherri under his roof for six months, he seizes it. This is his last chance to make her see the truth. This is his only shot at saving their marriage and claiming the family he's always wanted.
But when secrets unravel and accusations resurface, Sherri and Silas will have to decide if their love can survive the weight of betrayal, misunderstanding, and the question neither of them can ignore: Is trust possible after everything has been broken?
“You’re pregnant?” Silas’s voice held so many notes, so many nuances: shock, disbelief, anger. His mouth was slightly open, and his pale gray eyes were rounded as his gaze moved from Sherri’s face to her bulging belly and back.
Sherri let her oversized purse fall to the floor. Using it as a shield to cover her baby bulge had been a spur-of-the-moment defense, but it was all that had come to mind when her husband had walked in.
Pregnancy brain. Definitely pregnancy brain, she comforted herself.
“I asked you a question, Sherri,” he said, his voice a little unsteady.
“Well, I’d say the answer to that question is obvious,” she responded peevishly. “You have a pair of working eyes. What? Do you think I lug around a watermelon under my dress in my spare time?”
His jaw tightened, but before he could say anything Sherri felt a wave to tiredness wash over her, a desire to sit and rest. On the drive over she’d put up with that same nagging backache she’d been enduring all week, not to mention intensifying Braxton-Hicks contractions which, though painful and annoying, didn’t mean anything. They were just practice contractions, her doctor had assured her. All pregnant women got them. She still had two more weeks before her due date.
In the half hour since she’d sat down in the lawyer’s office, the contractions had become so severe that she’d had to catch her breath and squeeze the straps on her purse to keep from crying out and making a spectacle of herself.
She grasped the tabletop, steadying herself. Silas’s voice rang in her ears, and she had to struggle over the pain to understand what he was asking: “Is it mine?”
