Center of Gravity by Laura McNeill Page B

You know full well Mike’s just a childhood friend. That’s all he’ll ever be.”
    â€œI’ve already had one wife betray me, Ava.” I point a finger across my desk. “Karen told me the exact same thing about her agent. Just a friend. Don’t you think I know the signs?”
    I pick up the phone, watching her as I grab the receiver. Ava presses her lips together and tightens her fists. Her chest flushes pink as a sunset.
    â€œGet me security,” I bark.
    â€œDon’t bother,” Ava says, eyes flashing. My wife lifts her chin, determined. She stands up and turns on her heel. “I know my way out.”

CHAPTER 19
    GRAHAM
    FRIDAY, APRIL 2
    â€œI take it this wasn’t something you expected?” I lean forward and grab a notepad and pen.
    In my past life, secretary summoned, I’d have gazed out of my corner office, overlooking a killer view of Birmingham, sipping a latte. But Ava has barely noticed the stacks of dusty books in the corner, the fake paneled walls, the less-than-ideal office with more than a few stains on the ceiling tiles. The rent’s cheap, the office sits in front of my tiny rental house, and for now, it’s enough for someone starting over.
    She shifts her weight, and the wide planks of the wooden floor creak beneath her chair.
    â€œNo. Never. He moved out a few days ago. I thought we’d work something out. But then he drops this bomb. He’s taken the kids and won’t bring them back. He’s filed for divorce.” Her voice breaks. “And I found out this morning, he’s called everyone. Every single attorney in a fifty-mile radius.”
    â€œEveryone?”
    Ava offers a rueful smile. “Except you.”
    If he’s gone to those efforts, that trouble, the husband is resourceful. Calculating. Definitely revengeful. But I don’t say the words out loud. Not yet.
    She stares at the wall. At nothing.
    I tap my fingers on the top of my worn oak desk. “Listen, it’s an old trick. Leave you no options. He’s trying to scare you.”
    Ava attempts a smile, but her face fights any sign of mirth. “It’s working.”
    I don’t need her fearful. I need her focused. I train my eyes on her face. “Tell me about your husband.”
    Ava draws a breath. “He’s smart, well-educated. A widower. His wife died in a car accident, so he’s especially dedicated to his son, Jack, who’s eight.” She hesitates. “Mitchell talks about the times they used to go camping. They were involved in scouting, sports.” She pauses. “He doesn’t have a lot of time for that now. He’s the new vice president of advancement at Springport. Lots of responsibility and pressure.” She ticks off with her fingers. “Fund-raising campaigns, donor meetings, events . . .”
    â€œSounds busy.” I take a sip of cold coffee and refrain from rolling my eyes. “Tell me more about the pressure from his job.”
    Ava grimaces. “Well, it puts him on edge, partly because he wants everything to be perfect. He’s always been a high achiever. Heading up fund-raising and marketing for a college like Springport is what he’s been working toward since he got his PhD.”
    I nod. “And how does everyone, including you, handle that?”
    She tears up and can’t speak. Not so well, I suspect.
    â€œTake your time.” I give her a moment.
    Ava swallows. “Everything seemed great. We had a wonderful honeymoon. Been married a year and a half. We have a lovely home. We-we’re even having a brand-new staircase built.” She stops and clasps her hands, shaking her head. “We have Sam, who’s one. And I just adopted Jack as my own.”
    â€œI see.” I make a few notes, and Ava watches me. “Go on.”
    â€œShortly after Sam was born, things changed. Mitchell became a bit distant. Right around that time, his position got a