Chapter Text
Ichabod crept down the street in his car, taking care to keep himself from being seen. His headlights were turned off for extra precaution as he moved along the curb. And the distance set of tail lights pulled into a driveway.
For a moment he was taken aback. Just why the hell was Katrina going to Bram's house this late at night?
Oh he knew why. He'd be a fool not to know by now. A fool in deep denial. However a fool in deep denial he was not. He was simply confirming something he already knew.
Katrina was having an affair.
He had known she was having affair, he just had not known with whom. But now it was clear as freshly cleaned glass. To make matters worse, Bram was also married. While Ichabod had yet to meet the woman, he still felt for her.
Ichabod had come to America before his friend had. He had met Katrina and they had gotten married long before Abraham had moved over. Hadn't been long before Bram had found himself a nice American Girl and made a wife of her.
Four years. Various work schedules had kept Ichabod from actually meeting the illustrious Grace Abigail in person. Bram and his wife had simply engaged in a courtroom wedding with only the courthouse staff in attendance… because Grace Abigail had needed to work later that night. This was despite knowing Bram was financially comfortable enough that she need not work.
Oh, it was by no means the first time Bram had had an affair. Nor was it the first time Katrina had. But never had he figured they would cheat with each other. He thought he had known both of them much better than that.
He watched Katrina get out of her car and hurry to the entry door. Moments later it opened and Bram pulled her into the door. Ichabod eased the car further down the lane until he was almost directly in front of the house.
Even though the lights were low, he could still very clearly see Bram and Katrina in a lover's embrace. He sucked in a breath and pushed the car door open. This was ending right here, right now.
He wasn't going to do anything violent as that was not his style. But he was very much going to let Katrina know she needed to get her belongings out of their house.
And he would have done precisely what he had planned to do, had he not been thrown to the ground and handcuffed. “I swear to God if you fucked this up I am going to end you,” a stern feminine voice growled near his ear.
“I beg your par--” the rest of his exclamation was muffled by hand over his mouth.
“I have been working on this for six months,” she snapped. “Get in the bushes before you mess things up.”
The assailant gave him little to no choice in the matter as he found himself being hauled up roughly and shoved into the bushes. Much to his surprise he also found himself staring up at a petite black woman that embodied Authority.
She spared him only a momentary glance before turning around and kneeling down with a camera in hand. “I've been trying to catch this guy in the middle of an affair for the past year. He got reckless in the last six months with this floozy,” she grumbled.
“That floozy is my wife,” Ichabod stated.
“All the more reason to stop you from doing something stupid,” the woman retorted. “I'll make sure to compensate you when I get the big payday from this.”
Ichabod struggled to right himself on the ground, despite his hands being cuffed behind his back. “Big payday? What do you mean?”
“His wife has a really nice prenup with a clause that involves him having an affair,” the woman said.
“And she hired you to collect this information?” Ichabod asked.
“I guess you could say that.” The woman stopped snapping pictures for a moment to offer her hand. “Abbie Mills, private investigator.”
Ichabod cocked his head and gave her a sarcastic glare. “I would shake your hand and introduce myself but I am currently handcuffed.”
Abbie side and sit down her camera. She made a gesture for him to turn around. As soon as he had, he heard the handcuff lock click open and he was freed. When he turned back toward Abbie he took her hand and bowed over it. “Ichabod Crane.”
“Nice to meet you Ichabod Crane,” Abbie said sweetly. She picked up her camera and resumed her task. “So tell me, did your parents hate you?”
“Oh that's one I never heard before,” Ichabod huffed. “Do your parents know you're a bully?”
Abbie shrugged. “I take that as a yes,” she chuckled.
“I was named for my great grandfather, thank you,” Ichabod replied. “It's an honour to bare his name.”
“So how long did it take your parents to convince you of that?” Abbie asked, shooting him a playful grin. She laughed when he gave her a flat look. “Sorry. Just trying to make lite of the situation. Not every day I drag the spouse of the floozy into the adventure.”
Ichabod peered over the bushes. “What are they doing?”
Abbie cocked a brow. “You sure you want that answer?” When he nodded, she handed over the camera and nodded toward the house. “Far right window, living room.”
After taking a breath, Ichabod raised and aimed the camera. And immediately regretted it. He thrust the camera back into Abbie's hands. “Add that to the things I regret witnessing,” Ichabod sighed, trying to mentally dislodge the image of Bram bending Katrina over the sofa as he took her from behind.
“Definitely having an affair,” Abbie murmured. Her camera clicked a couple more times. She looked toward the house and sighed heavily. Sadness washed over her features.
“I know it must dishearten you to know there are two lives being harmed by this,” Ichabod stated.
“Yeah,” Abbie sighed. She gazed toward the house, scoffed and shook her head. “Especially since Bram is my husband.” She sat down hard on the ground and started breaking down her camera. She glanced up. “What?”
Ichabod blinked at her in surprise. “You're… Bram's wife?”
Abbie nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffled softly. “Sorry. I didn't plan on company tonight.”
“It's okay to cry,” Ichabod said gently, he reached out and placed his hand over hers.
She shook her head, solidifying her resolve to not cry “Not here,” she said. “Mind giving me a lift to the borough?”
“Not at all,” Ichabod replied.
“Besides, you'll ruin everything if your wife sees your car right across the damn street.” Abbie sniffled again but laughed.
#
Abbie was trying to hold herself together.
When she had started her mission, she had tried to be objective. She tried to have the same mindset she took when working for a client. Bram was just another scumbag, cheating husband.
She had planned to take an Uber back to her car at the borough. Cry on her way to Mabie's. Then have apple pie ala mode to make herself feel better, before calling Bram to see if he needed her to pick anything up on the way home.
What she had not planned on was running into the spouse of The Other Woman. Nor had she planned on barely being able to keep it together as he drove her back to her car. Angry helped her keep from crying in front of this near complete stranger.
“I knew he was a player when I met him, that’s why I got the prenup. I wanted to make sure he couldn’t take my house if we ever got divorced,” Abbie sighed, staring out the window. “He tried to talk me out of it. The prenup. He signed it and everything but then tried to convince me not to file it.”
Ichabod hummed curiously. “If you knew, why did you marry him,” he asked.
“Funny story,” Abbie chuckled. “We had been dating for about three weeks. Apparently some uncle or auntie died and left him a big fortune, if he got married. One of his cousins told me. Gave me a little nudge wink and said I should get a prenup to make sure I’m taken care of in case it doesn’t work out. To this day I don’t know if he knows I know about the inheritance.” She studied her fingernails. “He almost had me convinced not to file it. But my lawyer pointed out, if he doesn’t cheat, he’s got nothing to worry about. But since he did, I get a nice fat settlement in the divorce.”
It felt good to unload.
“You could have gotten divorced once his inheritance was assured,” Ichabod pointed out.
Abbie shrugged. “Things were going good so we wanted to give it a proper try. It’s worked for almost four years.” She looked toward the driver. “So what about you?”
“Katrina and I have been married for six years,” Ichabod said. “It’s not the first time she’s had an affair. The last time she vowed it would never happen again. I made the mistake of believing her.”
When he finished, Abbie got the distinct feeling that was all he was willing to share that moment. She could tell he was internalizing. Normally, that would have been her mode of dealing, but she had been trying not to cry in front of a stranger. Even now it felt like she was fighting a losing battle. She felt stupid. She felt betrayed. She felt like if she didn’t stop running every moment she called to say she was working late, only to be greeted with “Take your time darling, call when you’re on your way so I can have you a plate ready”, through her head she was going to…
Nope. Too late. She was crying.
And not the stoic, solitary tear she normally let herself get away with. It was a full on ugly cry. Complete with drool and snotty nose.
Though she knew things were coming to a head, nothing had prepared her for the reality of seeing it with her own eyes. She rubbed her temples then rubbed her eyes. “God how could I have been so stupid?” she wailed.
She was only moderately aware of the car pulling over until she found herself in a warm embrace. Abbie let herself sob in Ichabod arms as he gently stroked her hair. He didn’t say anything, just let her cry and let her get the evidence of her tears all over his shirt. When her tears dissolved into soft hiccups, Abbie pulled back. Before she could bring her hand up to wipe her eyes, Ichabod was tilting up her chin and lightly dabbing at her cheeks and eyes with a handkerchief.
Abbie drew in a deep breath. She blinked at him. No trying to fix it? No trying to tell her everything would be okay? Just listening to her and letting her cry?
Swallowing hard, Abbie sat back in her seat. She sniffled loudly. “Thanks. Sorry about your shirt.”
Ichabod chuckled lightly. “It can be washed. No harm, no foul.”
He regarded her for a moment before pulling back onto the road. Abbie let herself take cleansing breaths. Part of her couldn’t believe someone would cheat on someone like this guy. She wasn’t going to say anything just yet but, his wife had hired her to tail him to try and catch him cheating. Unfortunately, after about two months, she realized he was actually a bit boring.
The one time she thought she had caught something, it turned out to be a one-sided thing on the other person’s part--and he had seem blissfully unaware. When he had turned up empty, Abbie realized there must have been something the wife was trying to hide. That’s how she ultimately discovered Bram’s affair.
Now she was kind of wondering if Katrina hiring her had been a means of getting her out of the house for them to have their fling. Considering the timing, she was pretty damn sure it was. Obviously Bram thought she was either an idiot or just bad at her job. Maybe both. What else could justify him not realizing she wouldn’t find out?
She was a goddamn private investigator for crying out loud! It was literally her job to follow clues and leads to find out the truth.
When they pulled up to the police borough, Abbie gathered her camera bag and notebook. She paused as she opened the door. “Do you want to join me at Mabie’s for apple pie? It’s my go-to for stressful situations.”
Ichabod stared at her for a moment. “You like Mabie’s?”
Abbie nodded. “Long story but yeah. Love the place.” No matter how often she tried to get Bram to join her at Mabie’s, he never would. And the few times she had managed to get him to darken their doors, he had kept a sour look on his face.
“I would love to join you,” he said softly, giving her a soft smile.
Wow, she couldn’t help but think. He was actually handsome when he smiled. She wouldn’t go as far as saying he was the sexiest man alive or anything. But he was the kind of annoyingly handsome that made her want to smack him in the face with a 2x4 and tell him to stop. She could practically hear her subconscious rolling its eyes and sighing. Now isn’t the time to be noticing that kind of thing, Abbie.
She reasoned it was the heartbreak making her not think clearly. Surely the last thing she needed to be doing right now was thinking about having revenge sex with the spouse of the woman that was banging her husband. It could wait until after the divorce was final.
Although, the declination of that particular thought did give her another idea...