The Perfect Wife

“I’d like to.”

She paused for the longest time, trying to figure out how to explain. She might appear vain on the outside, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“All I wanted to do was make my husband happy he married me.”

Bo didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. It had to be obvious to him and the entire neighborhood that her efforts to please Greg hadn’t worked.

She thought long and hard before explaining. She wanted to answer honestly without revealing too much. It was a tricky row to hoe, but she’d give it her best shot.

“I was brought up in a blue-collar home where we didn’t have money for extras. And when Greg took me to meet his parents, I just wanted to fit in. To be accepted.”

“Greg wouldn’t have married you if he hadn’t seen something of value in you. If you hadn’t been good enough already.”

There was some truth to Bo’s words, but he had no idea how imperfect she’d been, how hard she’d had to struggle to prove herself.

“You don’t know the Bannings,” she said. Nor did he know the Aldersons. The families were complete opposites.

Bo took a sip of his merlot. “Tell me about them.”

“Greg’s parents? They are ultrawealthy and have high expectations for their son, for his wife.”

“Did they treat you badly?”

“Not really. Gregory was all right, I suppose. But Vanessa was almost impossible to please.”

“But you tried.”

She nodded. “Yes, I did. And it was a constant struggle.”

Her thoughts drifted back in time, to the only memories she was willing to share.

“For example, as a wedding gift, my mom and sister sent us a fancy coffeepot. But the Bannings gave us enough money to purchase a house on Danbury Way.”

“You can’t measure love by the cost of a gift.”

“I don’t. Believe me. My mom loves me as much or more than the Bannings love Greg, but she’s on permanent disability, and it’s a struggle for her to get by each month.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

So was Carly. But she did what she could to help out. “I send her money regularly, but she hates taking it from me.”

“I can understand that. I’ve always wanted to build my folks a new home in a better part of town, but they refuse to leave the old neighborhood. Still, I’m not sure if it’s because they really don’t want to move, or if their pride won’t let them accept my help.”

“It sounds like we have something in common.”

“Maybe so.” He took another drink.

She followed suit, then fingered the stem of her glass. “Within two years, Greg was a rising star at his father’s company and a great provider. I didn’t have to work, so I had plenty of time to focus on the house and on becoming a good wife.”

But a lot of good that had done.

Carly had started by working on her physical appearance—something she actually had power over. She’d even gone so far as to have a nose job, but she didn’t mention it to Bo. Nor did she tell him about the grueling daily workouts with a personal trainer, the regular visits to the salon, the shopping trips that kept her wardrobe constantly updated with stylish clothes and shoes.

“I threw myself into decorating the house,” she admitted. “And as Greg gained a more prestigious position in the company, we bought the lot next door, tore up both houses and rebuilt a larger, fancier one.”

Plans for a deck turned into plans for a pool, and soon they had the biggest, most impressive house in town.

All right. So Carly was the one who had pushed for the renovations, but Greg had been happy with them. At first, anyway.

“But the new construction wasn’t enough,” Bo said. “Was it?”

“Apparently not.” She lifted her glass, took another sip of wine. “The neighbors all came to ooh and aah, but there was talk behind our backs that our house was too ostentatious for the neighborhood.”

“Does it bother you that people refer to this place as the McMansion?”

“No. I guess not.”

Thanks to the gourmet cooking classes she’d taken, Carly was soon known as the Martha Stewart of Danbury Way. Everyone looked forward to coming to one of her parties or get-togethers. Well, at least they used to. She hadn’t issued any invitations in ages.

“It sounds as though you took great pains to be the perfect wife.”

She had. “And a lot of good that did me.”

“Maybe Greg would have preferred you to be yourself.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He told me that marriage wasn’t about how pretty I was, how perfect our house was or whether we had a baby ‘on schedule.’ He wanted someone who really cared about him, someone he could be himself with.”

And Carly had failed him in that respect.

She’d been devastated by the rejection she’d been afraid of all along.

“My pride took a hard blow when he said he didn’t love me anymore, and I threw him out of the house. Maybe if I hadn’t…”

She didn’t continue, but didn’t suppose she had to. Bo was a man. And he probably understood where Greg had been coming from, even if Carly was still struggling with it all.

“If you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be alone,” Bo murmured.

“That’s about the size of it.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” he asked.

“Just a sister. Shelby.” That’s about all Carly wanted to offer.

“Is she in Texas?”

Carly nodded. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess. But I figured that’s where you’re from because of that soft Southern drawl you have.”