Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Feeling sick to my stomach from the thought of Shane with another woman, I move away from him, pressing a palm to the wall to steady myself. “Why can’t these stupid doors just open?”
“How are you, Cat?” Cate . . . We’ve come full circle as if everything between the question he asked earlier and then again just now has been erased. “Are you okay?”
“I’m . . . good.” I’m not at all, but we’re here for one thing, and that’s to get a divorce. My feelings don’t matter anymore and shouldn’t to him. This is just a formality before we return to our own lives again. “You?” No need to be rude when he so chivalrously let me sit on him.
“We’re about to find out.”
I stare at him, wondering what the hell that means. “Don’t worry, your bank account is safe from me.” I don’t bother to laugh. It wasn’t a joke anyway.
Willing the doors to open for us, I’m so close to banging and yelling, but I’m positive that won’t help in this situation. So I chant it inwardly instead of out loud.
“Money is the least of my concerns.” His voice is so smooth, so confident that I’m trying to read between the lines as if I’m missing something.
Why am I suddenly feeling paranoid? I’m sure he wants to get this over with and back to his fantastical life as much as I want to get to drinking margaritas with Luna. “Okaaay.” I glance up at the floor indicator, noting that we are forever stuck on the fourth floor. “That feels showy, but you are an entertainer.”
Offense narrows his eyes as he stares at me. “I’m a musician.”
“You’re an entertainer, though.” I shrug, missing his point. “Comme ci comme ça.”
“What?”
“It’s French.”
“Oui, parlez-vous français?”
“Non.” I waggle my finger. “I took Spanish in high school.”
Running his hand over his head, he looks up at the stalled number like he’s ready to escape as well. “I don’t even know how this conversation started.”
“I was basically saying it must be nice to never want for anything.” I dare to look his way again, catching him studying me like prey.
Should I be worried or—I pluck at my shirt again, hoping to cool off in the hot elevator. Damn. Why do I react so easily to him? He knows I do, too. I can just tell by the wry grin resting on his face.
He says, “I want—”
The doors open. I throw myself into the lobby of the law offices just in case it decides to trap us inside for another round of battering my heart.
Shane’s exit is much cooler. He swaggers off like he owns the place. According to him, money flows like water right into his bank account, so I guess he could buy the place. I can’t get caught up in his chaos again. We didn’t have a great ending the last time. This meeting will make it final.
No use in delaying our destiny.
20
Cate
“I’m here to see Mr. Whittier,” I say, whispering to the receptionist. “I have a meeting scheduled. We were caught on the elevator. Long story short, we’re late.”
She checks us in, and we follow her down the hall to the conference room. I stay close, needing to get my head off Shane and into the divorce game we’re about to play. The proximity of his presence caresses my backside, which I swear I didn’t imagine until my feet falter, and his hand keeps him from running into me.
When I peek over my shoulder, his eyes are still set on mine, but the smile he used back in the elevator is nowhere to be found. It hits me like a ton of bricks. He’s the hunter. I’m the prey. The receptionist opens the door to the lion’s den.
I thought I was ready, but I’m immensely unprepared for what I assumed was a simple meeting. It’s not. Files and envelopes are lined up on the table, each side guarding theirs like secrets will be revealed. I look back at Shane once more, and whisper, “You’re not asking for anything, right?”
He stops shy of pressing against my arm, but the high-quality fabric of his shirt is soft against my skin. “I never said that.”
“But I did, so I assumed you wouldn’t.”
The blue of his eyes pierces me, and under his breath, he says, “We’re already late.” The hint is taken, so I lean against the door to let him by.
A million things run through my mind. I shared that I had lost the earnest money with the house but never spent the down payment. Shane saw my apartment. It’s not exactly the lap of luxury, though I love it. He knows my car is older than Galileo, so what could he possibly want of mine?
I sit next to my attorney across from Shane and his attorney, who really looks like an asshole ready to take me to the cleaners. Max Whittier is jovial by nature, which is one of the reasons I’ve worked with him on little matters like a fender bender where the guy didn’t want to pay up. Divorce is no joke. I need a viper to take on this snake.