The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

they’d stop trying to get an interview or a picture or a comment from anyone going in or out of the main gate.
    She’d come home after leaving Simon two days before because she couldn’t think of anywhere elseto go. Pitiful. But the only place she wanted to be was with Simon. And since she couldn’t do that, what did it matter where she went?
    At least here, on the estate, she was protected enough that she didn’t have to deal with the media. Charlotte had welcomed her into the cottage, since Megan couldn’t bear the thought of moving back into her old rooms in the family home—just the idea of having to deal with her parents right now gave her cold chills. Charlotte though, busy with her plants and flowers in the greenhouse, gave Megan plenty of space and time to herself.
    Now, all she had to do was try to find a way to keep herself busy until thoughts of Simon faded away. Shouldn’t be more than twenty or thirty years. How hard could it be?
    She flopped back into one of the comfy, squishy chairs in the cottage living room. “Oh, God…”
    “Why don’t you come and help me in the greenhouse?” Charlotte walked into the room and stopped beside her. “Take your mind off of things.”
    Megan sighed and patted her cousin’s hand. “Thanks, but we both know I suck at the whole Mother Nature thing. In ten minutes, you’d be able to hear your plants screaming for help. I’d just be getting in your way.”
    Charlotte smiled. “I don’t mind.”
    “And I appreciate it,” Megan said, looking up at her cousin. Her features were serene, but her darkeyes shone with worry and Megan appreciated her cousin’s unspoken concern. “But I’m just lousy company, Charlotte. I think I’ll take a walk or something.”
    The other woman shrugged and gave her a half smile. “Or, you could take a drive. Back to your own house. To your husband.”
    Megan’s heart twisted and the rippling pain of it shot throughout her body with lightning-like precision. “I can’t. I can’t drag him through this mess.”
    Charlotte cocked her head to one side and studied her for a long moment before asking, “What makes you think you would have to drag him? Maybe you should give him the option of deciding for himself.”
    “Say I did,” Megan countered, “say he decided to stay with me and because of that decision, he lost clients and his family was hurt by what’s going on with our family. Then what? How long before he resented me? How long before he couldn’t stand the sight of me?” She shook her head. “No thanks. My way’s better. Quicker.”
    “Megan…”
    She lifted one hand and rubbed at the ache in the dead center of her chest, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. Ever. She’d be walking through the rest of her life like this. In pain. Might as well get used to it. Megan stood up, reached out and gave her cousin a brief, hard hug, then pulled back. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really.”
    “But butt out?” Charlotte asked, smiling.
    Megan managed to briefly return the smile. “Gently put, but yeah.”
    “Okay,” her cousin said and started for the back door that would lead her across a tidy garden to the greenhouse, “but remember, if you change your mind, I’m here if you want to talk.”
    Alone, Megan headed for the front door of the cottage and stepped out into a splash of sunshine that dappled the stone pathway with light spearing through the sheltering leaves of the nearby trees. She wandered along the path, then stepped off into the lush green grass and let her gaze sweep wide across the manicured lawn. Rolling hills of rich green stretched out in front of her like swatches of velvet. Well tended flower beds were a riot of color—purple, yellow, deep red—and their combined scents filled the air.
    Yet for all the beauty surrounding her, Megan felt as though she were locked in a dark room. Worse, deep inside, she knew there was no way out. This was a lose-lose situation all the way around.
    Simon had spent the last forty-eight hours trying to find a way into the Ashton estate. But it was like trying to sneak into Fort Knox. The security guards out front weren’t letting anyone through, damn it. Every time he tried to phone, he was told politely, but firmly, that the Ashton family was not accepting calls at the moment.
    “Not even from husbands,” he muttered grimly and stared down the burliest of the guards, who’d planted himself in front of Simon’s car like a cement