Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“No.” He scrunches up his nose as he steps back from me. “She can’t cook for shit.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Lasagna?”
I really do want to find out about this douche radar.
“Ugh . . . fine.”
“Got to go.” He closes the door in my face, and I stare at it for a beat.
The tooth fairy can’t cook, which can only mean one thing . . .
She gives good head.
12:30 p.m.
I refold the napkin in my lap and look around the restaurant as I wait.
Where is he?
Typical of John, the prick, to make a grand entrance.
I glance at my watch and roll my fingers on the table as my impatience grows.
Fifteen minutes late.
If I didn’t know him, I would assume he isn’t coming, but unfortunately I do, and I know that this is his way of trying to assert dominance. He’ll swan in and pretend he was tied up at work when really, he is just too self-centered to worry about making anyone wait for him.
“There you are.” He smiles calmly before bending to kiss my cheek in greeting.
I turn my head. “Don’t kiss me, and you’re late.”
“Apologies.” He sits down in the chair opposite me. His eyes hold mine. “You look good, Rebecca.”
Don’t even . . .
“Why haven’t you replied to my lawyer?” I ask.
He casually pours himself a glass of water from the jug. “Because my relationship isn’t with your lawyer.”
“It is now.”
“No.” He takes a sip. “It isn’t.” He opens the menu and peruses the choices. “What are you having?”
“I’m not eating.”
“Aren’t we meeting for lunch?”
“No. We’re meeting because you won’t answer my lawyer’s calls.”
“The answer is no,” he snaps.
“You cannot stop me from divorcing you,” I whisper angrily.
“We’re not getting divorced; we are going to get through this.” He casually sips his water. “All couples go through a rough patch. When we come out the other side of this, we are going to be more in love with each other than ever.”
“You were sleeping with another woman for eighteen months. This is a little more than a rough patch, John.”
“I was having a midlife crisis,” he whispers. “I made a mistake.”
“That I will never get over. I want a divorce.”
“No.”
“We’ve been separated for over twelve months, and we are not coming back from this. Ever.”
His eyes hold mine, and he circles his pointer finger over the tablecloth. “Why do you want a divorce so badly?”
“I just do.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like living in a house that you pay for. I want this finalized so I can pay my own way and look after myself. While I live in a house that you pay for, I’m in limbo.”
“Oh please,” he scoffs. “What the hell can you afford?”
I open my mouth to say something nasty but close it again before I do.
Stay civil until he agrees to my terms.
“I want the house in the settlement, and you can keep everything else.”
His eyes hold mine. “No. You can have the ski lodge in Aspen.”
“I don’t want the ski lodge. I don’t even ski.”
“You can have the Manhattan apartment.”
“No, you like the city; you keep it. I want to stay on Kingston Lane.”
“How are you going to maintain a house of that size?”
“I think I’m capable of mowing lawns.”
“We still have a mortgage on it. You can’t afford to pay that.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“Why would you want to stay there?”
“Because my friends are there?”
His jaw ticks in fury. “Blake Grayson isn’t your friend, Rebecca; he wants to fuck you.”
“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “Blake is my friend.”
“Blake was my friend, and he just chose to be a traitor and go to your side.” He fakes a smile. “You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know why.”
“Shut up,” I whisper angrily. “Leave Blake out of this. Not everyone is a sex maniac. I want the house in the settlement, and I want a divorce. And you’re going to give it to me.”
“No.”
“This isn’t up to you.”
“Actually . . .” He narrows his eyes. “I think I’ll move back into my house.”
Panic sets in.
“No. You won’t.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I wonder what your mom and dad would say if they found out what you’ve done,” I fume. This is below the belt, but damn it, he cannot, under any circumstance, move back in with me.
“Don’t threaten me, Rebecca.”
“Here’s the deal . . . I want the house and a divorce, or . . . I’m going to your dad, and we both know that little family trust of Grandma’s will be ripped out from under you if they learn what kind of sleazebag their only grandson really is.”
“We’re going to get through this.” He sits forward and takes my hand in his. “I love you. You’re my wife; we are meant to be together forever.”
I snatch my hand out of his. “Don’t touch me.”