but then last night, for the first time ever, Seymour had come home on a drug-induced high. He’d previously hidden the effects of the drugs from her and the rest of the world, but now his habit was known, he no longer seemed to care about covering it up.
That fact alone caused her to confront him. “How dare you come home in this condition?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear.”
“You damn sure do,” she lashed back. “Now that I know what you’re up to, it’s obvious you’re high.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Don’t insult me, Seymour. I may have been gullible in the past, but no longer.”
He smiled a cherubic smile. “You’re getting yourself all worked up for nothing, my dear.” He paused, his grin still in place. “I don’t know about you, but I’m calling it a night.”
Maci’s insides shook with anger, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Once her husband dug his heels in, there was no way she could penetrate his steel facade.
She was now at a loss as to how to reach Seymour. Their personal relationship and home life would soon suffer. Maci feared that if Seymour continued down this destructive path, the man she’d married would be lost to her forever.
Again she knew he needed professional help.
Maci paused in her thoughts and peered at her watch. Seymour was due home from the hospital any time now to join her for a late breakfast. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him.
“Mrs. Ramsey, Jonah’s about to go down for his nap.”
A smile transformed Maci’s strained features when she glanced at Liz Byford, her son’s nanny. “I’m right behind you.”
When Maci walked into the nursery, her baby, almost entering into the terrible twos phase, was bouncing up and down in his bed and grinning.
“Hey, big boy, what are you doing?”
“Down, Mommy,” he cried, reaching out his arms.
Maci gave him a bear hug, then a kiss on the cheek. “It’s time for your nap.”
He shook his head. “No, Mommy, no.”
“Yes, Jonah, yes.” She grinned. “How about I hold you and read you a story?” This was a tried and proven trick to get him to sleep.
His grin widened and his bouncing increased.
“Whoa, there, tiger. Mommy can’t lift you unless you settle down.”
“I’ll eat my lunch while you’re with him,” Liz said, blowing the child a kiss before closing the door behind her.
Maci lifted Jonah out of his bed, nuzzling him on the neck. He smelled so good, felt so good, she wanted to squeeze him into her. And she did for a second. Then he started squirming.
“Book.”
“That’s right,” she said, sitting in the rocker and grabbing his favorite nursery rhymes. “We’ll read this together, squirt.”
Five minutes later, Jonah was sound asleep, but Maci continued to rock him, loving the feel of him in her arms.
Her gaze rested on his perfect little features and tears misted her eyes. He looked so much like her it was uncanny. Yet he had the Ramsey build. When he grew up—she smiled inwardly at that coined phrase—Jonah would be tall and thin.
In her mind her son would make a statement in this world. She would see to that. He was the love of her life. And the purpose for her life.
She was blessed that Seymour felt the same way. He, too, doted on Jonah. Thinking of her husband removed the smile and tossed her thoughts back into chaos. How could she reach him? Holding her eyes steady on this precious child for whom they were both responsible made her grief and fear more potent.
Seymour had to get help. He had to beat his problem. It was imperative that he set an example for his son who would soon look to him for guidance and trust. A chill darted through Maci and she shivered. As though Jonah sensed her unrest, he jerked.
“Shh,” she said in a soothing tone, pushing a soft strand of wispy hair off his forehead. “It’s okay.”
Once he was sleeping soundly again, Maci wondered how she could have been so stupid or so incredibly naive. Both apparently applied.
Could his downfall partially be her fault? She admitted she hadn’t been Seymour’s mate in the true sense of the word.
She didn’t believe in trust, especially when it came to trusting men. Despite her warm, sunny personality and her love for people, Maci harbored a bitterness for the opposite sex fostered by her father and her ex-fiancé.
When Will Grayson had learned literally hours before their wedding that Maci’s father had lost his millions on bad investments, liquor and women, he walked out on her without a backward glance.
To this day, she saw no reason to forgive the man who had left her at the altar. Her father, however, was a different matter. She had tried to forgive him for his betrayal, especially now that he was dead. But she’d never been able to totally put that pain aside. Some days the hurt was as strong as the day it had happened during the summer of her sophomore year in college.
At the time, however, she had patched her broken heart as best she could and gone on with her life. She’d worked her way through school as an interior designer while taking care of her mother who had been stricken with Alzheimer’s.
During those years of hardship, her social life had been nonexistent. Only once had she agreed to attend a charity ball given by a client. There she had met Dr. Seymour Ramsey, a man twenty years her senior. He had been instantly smitten with her and wouldn’t leave her alone. Finally, he had worn her down after promising to love, honor and cherish her while at the same time resurrecting her previous life of wealth and luxury.
That had been a deal she couldn’t pass up. While she hadn’t loved him with passion, she had loved him.
She’d certainly been bowled over by his attention. Seymour had turned on the same charm that had helped catapult him, a young man from the wrong side of the tracks, to the top of his profession. Maci had sensed he was a decent man who wanted to make a home with her.
Being “in love” was no longer high on Maci’s priority list. Seymour understood, having told her he’d take her any way he could get her.
Two weeks after taking a Jamaican holiday, Maci had married Seymour despite the teasing from her friends that she would be joining the “trophy wife’s club.” Maci had known better. In their own way, she and Seymour had formed a bond based on mutual respect and admiration.
She had signed a contract that entitled her to a certain amount of money for every year she remained married to him. Once that fact hit the gossip mill, her friends had upped the ante on their teasing.
She had taken it all in stride since that contract had been so important to Seymour, which she understood. She’d had no quarrel with him wanting to protect his investment and his pride. What no one knew was that she’d had no intention of touching the money for her own use. Instead, she’d put it in trust to care for her Alzheimer-stricken mother as long as she lived.
The fact that shortly after they had exchanged vows Maci had found out she was pregnant had served to strengthen her and Seymour’s marriage. They had both been delighted. Her life then settled into a normal routine. She had thrived on her role as expectant mother and wife of Doctor Seymour Ramsey, convinced she had everything she’d always wanted.
And while she’d concede their marriage was far from perfect and probably unconventional by most standards, it had worked for them.
Until now. Until his abhorrent habit had come to light.
Maci’s