Page 46

Before

I took advantage of the fact that Find My still showed Will was at the office when I got home.

Walking past the pantry, I checked the floor for the puddle of glass and bourbon from the night before.

It was gone, and so was the mess I had made getting his ill-fated short ribs ready.

Everything was perfectly tidied. As if nothing had ever happened.

He’s a lawyer. He can’t help himself. Evidence is evidence.

I headed upstairs to peel the day-old, rain-soaked, and then air-dried designer dress off and put it with the dry cleaning so Alma could run it up to the cleaners and help me bring it back to life. I gave it one last I-know-it-to-be-parting look before heading to the shower.

It’s too bad. It really was a great dress. Now, I’ll probably never wear it again.

I was already dreading seeing it hanging in my closet, thinking all the tears and bad energy from last night might have sunk into every careful stitch in the fabric. But I quickly shook the self-pitying thought off, remembering the pep talk Marcus had givenme.

I’m not wallowing. I’m going to be assertive. I belong here as much as any of them. As much as Will.

I planned to confront him about it when he got home. I was going to fight fair, but firm. It would be different this time because I wasn’t going to leave things up to chance.

At least that was the little speech I was giving myself. Then almost without thinking, without hesitation, I opened the web browser on my phone and searched: Winter Park divorce attorney.

Stop it, Nora. What are you doing? It’s not like the museum has called to beg you back.

Watching the results populate made my stomach hurt.

I’m not leaving. Who the hell would leave this?

No one in their right mind would walk away from this world.

This life. But my younger self knew that you have to have contingencies.

You have to have a plan B. My mother’s only plan B was find another guy.

Until that happened, the mornings I had to scoop her off the bathroom floor to make sure that I got to school on time were too many to count.

While she could sink herself into another romantic story line, I couldn’t be so na?ve.

I didn’t want to leave, but I had to know my options.

I had to know that if I needed to go, I could, and that I wouldn’t be left with a weird couture wardrobe and not much else.

This world had taught me that you have to fight for what’s yours.

If Will was going to stay distant and cryptic and act out, I needed to be responsible.

And I was so hurt by his inaction that I had to make a plan.

I needed to know how to right things if they went wrong.

And if this marriage was going sour, I was determined not to cower while it all played out.

I scanned reviews and logos, seeking something that looked professional and not sleazy. I scrolled past aggressive attorney taglines and revenge-driven slogans before I landed on one that was straightforward and simple.

With a shaking thumb, I clicked on the number.

“Fisher-Grant Family Law,” a pinched female voice answered after a few rings.

“Hi…” My voice shook a little. “I would like to schedule a consultation with one of your attorneys?”

“Sure, dear. But this is just an answering service. Can I take down your contact information? I’ll have someone return your call when the office reopens on Monday.”

“Okay,” I said before reciting my name and number.

As I hung up, I let out a big breath.

There. You’re just getting information. Getting information isn’t betraying your husband. He’s a fucking attorney. He doesn’t have to call anyone because he already knows all the information. I should at least have some.

I showered and pulled on leggings and a sports bra, thinking a run before he got home would help me feel clearheaded.

Endorphins are good. Endorphins make you feel powerful.

Turning the corner to go downstairs, I walked straight into Will.

“Fuck. You’re home.” I jumped back, startled.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “God, I’m so happy to see you.” He pulled me into him, and the hug was warm. But I was frozen, keeping my arms at my sides. “You were right about everything.”

He released me, and I looked up at him, perplexed.

He’s contrite. I was not counting on contrite Will.

“What are you…?” I frowned, taking in his face, expecting him to be bleary-eyed, like someone who’d waited up all night for me or something. But he wasn’t. He was just sorry.

“I acted like an ass last night. I don’t mean to shut you out. I’ve just been so busy looking out for the future that I haven’t looked out for us. I fucked up.”

“Fucked…up? Will, fucking up is forgetting an anniversary or something. You threw a glass. It was scary and not okay.”

“You’re right. I’m so embarrassed.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. Maybe we should go away next weekend. I’ll have Autumn plan something for us. Let’s go to the beach. Why don’t you go spend an offensive amount of money on bathing suits?”

“The beach?” Twenty-four hours ago, I would have swooned over this offer. But now…I can’t just whisk off to someplace that makes it all seem like problems can be blown away with fairy dust. “We can’t ignore last night, Will.”

“I know. I was inconsiderate and childish, and I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you call? After I left, I mean. Don’t you want to know where I was all night?”

“I assumed you went to Este’s to cool off. Didn’t you?”

“I drove around most of the night,” I lied. “I popped a tire near Phelps Park. I had the car towed to Leroy Tire to get fixed.”

My second lie.

Staying at Marcus’s was innocent. I don’t know why I was covering it up. I just didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were.

He frowned in concern. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to get you.”

“What’s going on at work, Will?” I parried.

He took in a long, drawn-out breath. “There’s a big case—Martinez.

If we handle it the right way, it could be an earth-shattering win.

Eight or nine figures. A career milestone.

Maybe I could slow down, and we could spend more time together.

But Fritz keeps trying to let his ego get in the way of things.

All he sees is dollar signs. I’m having to manage him and the case.

It’s twice the work. Sometimes three times. ”

“That’s the case Gianna mentioned at dinner,” I said.

“Fritz shouldn’t be running his mouth about cases at home.”

“Fritz’s ego getting in the way isn’t exactly new.”

“True. But when there’s tens of millions of dollars on the line, the stakes and his ego are…

heightened. He keeps trying to insert himself, and if I don’t keep him on a short leash, we’re going to end up with a fraction of what the case is worth.

It takes patience to work a case like this up.

Not a strength of his.” He put his arms around me.

“None of that is an excuse. I’m so sorry, Nora. ”

I looked at him for a long minute. I was grateful to be let into the conversation, but I couldn’t overlook his bad behavior. “Will,” I said. It was equal parts a plea and a warning.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. But if you ever pull shit like last night again, I’m leaving, and I will not come back. Not ever.”

He kissed the spot on my forehead where my hairline begins. “If I ever pull shit like last night again, I’ll handpick your divorce attorney. Just to make sure I get taken to the cleaners. Because I’ll deserve it for fucking something this important up.”

I laughed a little.

Damnit, Nora.

He was saying all the right things, but something still didn’t sit right. I wanted to believe my hesitance was just the regret-hangover from the fight.

He kissed my cheek. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Maybe so.”

“You want to take the boat out for some fresh air?” He kissed my other cheek. “I don’t need to work anymore this weekend.”

“No,” I huffed in fake annoyance.

His brows knitted.

“I was prepared to have a big conversation and tell you that you were wrong. And I was going to be so respectful and mature and tell you I belong here just as much as you. And you can’t shut me out anymore.”

“You’re right,” he said softly.

“I had a lot of really good things I was going to say.”

“I want to hear them.”

“Well, you’re just taking the wind out of my sails completely.”

“You want to do this over? I could go out and come back in. We can start from the beginning, and you can say all the things you want to say. I promise to agree with you.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds like overkill.”

“Do you really think you don’t belong here?”

I shrugged. “People say something to you often enough, it gets easier and easier to believe it.”

“Fuck them. You belong with me. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I just wish other people saw it that way.”

“Oh, Nora. These people are wretches. Trying to win their affection is Sisyphean. They don’t like people.

They like shiny things—diamonds, private jets, black cards.

But how about this? I will throw you a party.

Ply my nearest and dearest friends with alcohol until they fall in love with you.

It wouldn’t take much. You’re easy to love and my friends are all lushes. ”

I stifled a laugh, warming up to him again. “What about your birthday? You’re going to be forty-six soon.”

He looked up at the ceiling for a second. “Don’t remind me.”

“I could throw you a party. And ply your friends with alcohol until they fall in love with me. Think of it as strategic altruism.”

He snorted as he brushed my hair away from my face. “Would that make you happy?”

“Celebrating you? Or being beloved? Because I’m mostly in it for the second thing.”

He laughed as he kissed my neck. “I’ll ask Autumn to give you a call this week. She’ll have people eating out of your hand by the time they cut the cake.”

I stared at him for a beat, letting him wonder if I was in, even though I was sure he knew I was.

“Now, can we go to bed?” he murmured into my ear. “I’ve got a few other ways to make it right with you as well.”

It might have been wrong to fall back into his arms so quickly. But love makes you do crazy things. As he slid a warm hand under my shirt, I began to mentally erase the darkness from the last twenty-four hours.

Fuck it. I’m his.

And my little lies about Marcus faded into the background.