Page 39 of Dream Chaser

Her patient, soft gaze traveled over my face. I swallowed the knot of emotion, frantically smoothing my mussed hair. How could I have been so careless? How had I not heard my phone’s alarm? At least she was the one to find me. If it had been Alejandro, I would’ve died of humiliation.

I rose from the chair, legs wobbly. “Coffee? Um, sure. Just give me a moment to use the bathroom.”

She nodded, expression lacking judgment even though she must’ve figured out I’d spent the night in my desk chair.

In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. Shame heated my skin, but I couldn’t get out of talking to her. A convincing lie would be hard to come up with after she caught me, and I was tired of lying.

Eleanor was at her desk when I returned, but she stood and grabbed her red purse from the chair. “There’s a coffee shop next door. Come on, it'll be my treat.”

Five minutes later, we grabbed coffee and sat by the window. The hum of conversations and the soft music soothed me, dulling the edges of embarrassment.

I sipped my latte while Eleanor waited patiently for me to speak. If only I knew where to start.

Seconds ticked by, then she sighed. “I’ll just ask—did you spend the night at the office because you forgot your keys, or because you had nowhere else to go?”

She was giving me an easy out, but more lies would snowball and suffocate me. I could spend an eternity drowning in the mortification of being twenty-five and without a roof over my head, but it wasn’t my fault, just my circumstances.

“I left my husband,” I said. “And my mother refused to let me stay with her because she can’t get over the fact I want to divorce him.”

“Oh, boy.” Eleanor shook her head. “Your mother?”

I shrugged. “Preston—I mean, my ex—is running for mayor. His family’s famous in town. My mom just doesn’t realize those things matter way less than how he treats me.”

“So, you’ve been sleeping at the office,” Eleanor murmured. Still no trace of judgment.

I took another sip of coffee, tension melting from my shoulders.

“My car.” I curled my palms around the warm mug. “I only slept at the office once. Alejandro and I got stuck in an elevator yesterday during the blackout. Then he took me to lunch. It was still early, so I thought I’d work until the cleaning crew left and then stay there.”

“You should’ve told us.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “You hear me? There’s no shame in asking for help.”

Tears clogged my throat. I was so damn tired of being strong and telling myself things would get better. They should, but after weeks of not having a place to stay, it was hard to feel hopeful.

“Alejandro helped me immensely by hiring me,” I said. “I can’t tell him any of this.”

“He’d understand.” Eleanor smoothed her thumb over my bare ring finger. “But I get it. What’s your plan?”

I inhaled shakily. “Save up for an apartment. Hire a divorce attorney.”

“Do you have a prenup?”

I laughed. “Yeah, one that doesn’t benefit me. The house we lived in is his, and I don’t want his money. I just want my freedom.”

“I’ve been in your shoes,” Eleanor said. “My son was nine at the time. I thought we had it all—a home, our successful careers, a family. But my husband threw it all away by cheating with his coworker, and I loved myself too much to forgive him. He seemed remorseful, but only because he knew I’d hire the best damn lawyer I could find and force him to give us everything we deserved.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We don’t have any kids, although my mother wishes we did.”

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, sighing. “It was hard on my son, but I never badmouthed my ex to him. They have a good relationship. Nathan was a shitty husband, but he’s a decent father. I just didn’t want to second guess every time he was late from work for the rest of my life. Did your husband cheat too?”

I shook my head. “If he had, maybe people would understand my decision to leave. To the outside world, he’s perfect. But he’s suffocating to be married to. In the three years we’ve been married, I never felt like myself. Every time we had a disagreement, he ran to his mother. Our anniversary was the last straw. He called me a cheap whore in front of his friends, then pinned the blame for making everyone uncomfortable on me.”

She pressed her lips together. “If I knew your mother, we’d have a word. Nobody would treat my daughter that way.”

“Welcome to Millford, population two thousand.” A bitter chuckle slipped out. “Preston Marshall can do no wrong. If you think he can, you’re the problem.”

Eleanor nodded knowingly. “A good family man with morals. Except behind closed doors. Tell you what.” She downed her coffee. “I’ve got a spare room. You can stay with me while you’re sorting everything out. File for divorce and get the hell out of that marriage. Break it, but don’t let it break you.”

Gratitude filled my chest and leaked from my eyes in the shape of tears. “Thank you, Eleanor.” I hastily wiped my cheeks. “I feel bad accepting, but—”