The Saint's Wife Read Online Free PDF

gym. That had been a pleasant diversion for a long time. A way to blow off steam. A punishing workout left her feeling good and invigorated. Now she just felt…punished.
    She paid the bill and left her barely touched meal behind. Wasting food didn’t help the torrent of emotions threatening to turn her inside out, but that little bit of guilt was just a drop in the bucket.
    One more drop in a very, very full bucket.
    Joanna had left only a few months ago, but it felt like years since she’d been gone. The familiar buildings lining the freeways through Renton and Bellevue, two cities on the east side of Lake Washington, seemed like something out of a dream or a guidebook—places she’d seen, but not up close and personal. Something that hadn’t been real up until this moment.
    It was certainly real now, though. Especially now that she was taking the exit to Kirkland, the upper Eastside city where she and Chris had made their home. A few streets before the turnoff into the gated community, she pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and touched up her makeup. She let her ponytail down and ran a brush through her hair. Once she was presentable, she continued on her way.
    She entered her code at the gate. For a second, she was surprised it worked, but then realized, of course it did. Chris was hardly going to change the code or the locks. That would only give her a reason to not come back.
    The wrought-iron gate swung open, and she rolled forward, following the wide strip of asphalt from the upscale development onto their property. A thick blanket of pine needles crunched beneath her tires as she followed the driveway up the hill. There must have been some wind last night. Or even this morning. The needles on the ground couldn’t have been there long—Chris wouldn’t have stood for it. No doubt the landscapers would be out here soon with brooms and rakes. She’d have to keep an eye out for them and make sure she brought them coffee.
    The driveway wound through the trees, and then, just like that, she was in front of the enormous house. They’d lived in this place for nearly a decade, and it never had felt like home. That feeling definitely hadn’t changed. Gazing up at the immense stucco structure up against a backdrop of evergreens, she may as well have been pulling up to a stranger’s house to deliver a pizza like she’d done a lifetime ago.
    When they’d first moved into this place, she’d thought it was too big. Far too empty, far too much space. The farther she and Chris had drifted apart, the more grateful she was for the cavernous rooms and long hallways. The one-bedroom apartment they’d shared when they were dating would never have contained the cold and rapidly expanding distance between them.
    In the driveway, Joanna stopped, letting the engine idle while the garage door opened. She gazed up at the house, eyeing it like some nervous adventurer who’d come to spend a night in a haunted mansion. Except she was the ghost this time. The restless spirit who kept trying to leave and kept being pulled back by forces she couldn’t overcome.
    Joanna shook herself. No need to go down that mental road.
    She parked in the five-car garage between Chris’s Land Rover and his Ferrari. An invisible little imp on her shoulder suggested opening her door hard and putting a massive ding in the door of the Ferrari—of course she’d never do it, but the thought amused her enough to make her laugh, if halfheartedly.
    She got out of the car and slung her laptop case over her shoulder but left everything else in the car. The house and the man inside it would be easier to face without trying to wrangle a bunch of awkward, moderately heavy suitcases at the same time.
    And what a surprise—when she stepped into the kitchen, he was right there waiting for her. He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer, arms folded and shoulder pressed against the doorframe. His lip curled a little as he said, “Long