Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I laugh. “Words are one thing. Actions are entirely another. You act like husband material—that’s your problem.” In contrast, Worth’s words and actions are completely aligned.
“Yes,” Noah says. “You need to act like a dick. Then you’ll be fine.”
I smile, gaze roving from Noah inhaling pancakes to Oliver, who’s sweaty and eye-rolling Noah.
I’m really pleased they came to visit.
TWENTY-SIX
Worth
I finger the pages from my lawyer as I pull them out of the envelope. I didn’t exactly ask him to draw up the papers, but I told him what happened and inquired about the easiest way to exit a spur-of-the-moment marriage. He’s taken the initiative to draw up divorce papers for us to sign. I knew what they were when they arrived at my office, which is why I brought them home. I didn’t want to look at them earlier, and I don’t want to look at them now. The last thing I want is to divorce Sophia.
The doorbell rings and I put the papers down on the console table before opening the door. Sophia is on the front stoop, looking beautiful. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her hair peeks out from under her hat, making her look younger than usual.
“Hey,” she says with an adorable little wave.
“Thanks for coming.” I kiss her on the cheek and take the duffel she has by her side. I usually stay at her place. Tonight is the first time we’ll be staying together at the brownstone.
“This feels weird,” she says. “And you look so formal.”
She looks nervous, and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s so beautiful. It’s good to have her here. “I just stepped through the door. You must have followed me up the street.”
“Did you walk?” she asks, as I help her out of her coat.
I laugh. “No. My driver dropped me.”
“So here we are,” she says. “I’m officially staying over at the brownstone.”
I want her to feel comfortable here, like she’s at home. I know she doesn’t want to move in, but I want her to see that living together would be something positive. Nights spent at her apartment are just that: nights. We go there after dinner or a movie. But I want to hang out here. I want this to be ours.
I put down her bag and pull her into my arms. “I’m happy to have you here.”
Her smile falters. I don’t know why.
She glances sideways, and I follow her gaze. She’s staring at the papers from my lawyer.
“I got them today from my lawyer. I’ve not had a chance to look at them.”
“Divorce papers?” she asks.
“I think so.”
“Let’s look,” she says, nodding at the table.
My body sags. This is not what I had planned for our first evening here. I want to cook together, slow dance in the kitchen to some Luther Vandross, eat dinner, then take a bath together. I want us to talk. I want to hold her. I really don’t want to talk about divorce.
“You can read it,” I say. I’m not hiding anything from her.
She picks up the papers, follows me into the kitchen, and slides them onto the kitchen table.
“Would you like some wine?” I ask.
She nods, and I show where the glasses are while I get a bottle of red from the wine fridge. “This Argentinian malbec is gorgeous,” I say. “Efa says her brother-in-law owns the vineyard.”
“Really?”
“Efa has a brother-in-law for every occasion.”
“I like her,” Sophia says.
“I do too. She’s good for Bennett.”
“You’re lucky to have such wonderful people around you, Worth.”
I pour the wine. “I know. I’m a very lucky man.” My eyes slice to hers and she offers me a half-smile.
“How’s Avril?” she asks. “Have you decided on the hotel yet?”
I pull out a chair and take a seat. “Not yet. I think Avril’s committed and it would really give her a focus. A challenge. Apparently Poppy is interested in getting involved, too.”
“Wow. A family affair.” Sophia takes a seat at the end of the table and our legs intertwine.
“She’s got it in her head that the hotel would be a family legacy. Something positive to work on together, rather than something negative binding us together.”
Sophia nods but doesn’t offer an opinion.
“I think it’s a good idea,” I say.
“For them,” Sophia says. “Or for you? Is it what you want?”
“I want Avril and Poppy to be happy.”
“But beyond that, what do you want? You’re so good at caring for everyone else, it worries me that you don’t take time to figure out what you want.”
“Well, I’d like to beat Bennett in Hotel Games.”
“Hotel Games?” Sophia asks, frowning.
Have I never explained to her that the six of us all have hotels, which we use to compete against each other? “It’s like the Hunger Games, but nobody dies and all the competitors own luxury hotels.”
“So not at all like the Hunger Games,” Sophia says. “Whatever keeps a billionaire feeling alive, I guess.”