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She shook her head and unwound her cashmere wrap, then tossed it at him. “It doesn’t mix well with my Xanax, and I can’t afford the extra calories. I’m looking for another rich man, one younger than me. I’ll show Robert.”
His mother sounded bitter. He wasn’t surprised. She’d always acted as if the world owed her something.
It was going to be a long evening.
Jason paced to the fridge and grabbed a beer, then tossed himself onto the black leather sofa, peering at the cityscape. He should probably keep his mouth shut. After all, he knew damn well that she hadn’t come to him for advice, but money and sympathy—in that order. Still, she was all the family he had. Even if she hadn’t been much of a mother, she was his.
“Maybe you should take some time to be alone, consider what you really want in a marriage before you dive into number five. There’s a reason things never work out, Mom.”
“That’s not fair,” she shot back. “Your father died on me when you were barely thirteen. I was married to Daniel Markham for over a decade before he got stingy.” She sighed. “Lloyd and I had a good five years, then…”
“He went broke, and Robert couldn’t keep it in his pants. Got it. I’m just saying that some soul searching wouldn’t be bad before you get involved again.”
She cut him a blue-eyed glare as she perched on the edge of a gray suede chair, ankles crossed primly. “What would you know? You’ve never been married.”
Jason froze. He should probably shut up, but the opportunity to shock her was too good to pass up. Besides, he’d learned a thing or two lately. “Actually, I’m currently married. Have been for almost a year.”
With that admission, a familiar weight pressed down on his chest, unbearable and suffocating. Anger charged his veins. The constant, nagging pain followed. He shoved it all down and blanked his face.
Samantha reared back, eyes wide, as if he’d just said he kept Godzilla as a pet. “You married? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried. That’s what the invitation to spend some family time last Christmas was about.”
“Oh, well. I didn’t know. You didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
“It was somewhat…impulsive.” Because at the time, he’d thought that if he didn’t own that woman in every way possible, he would go insane.
Well, he’d slipped a ring on her finger and taken her to bed. Sadly, none of that had kept him from losing his damn mind.
He’d been a stupid bastard.
Samantha’s surprise deepened. “You’re never impulsive. And you’ve always expressed utter contempt for marriage.”
For years, he had. The not-so-shining examples around him had convinced him that he should never attempt happily ever after. But she had been different. He’d been right about that. But he’d been so fucking wrong, too. He’d taken a stab at marriage, and the blade had cut him deep.
“Who is she?” Samantha rose to her feet, scanning his loft. “Where is she?”
Jason gritted his teeth. “She isn’t here.”
And she was probably never coming back. The truth fucking hurt.
For once, his mother looked genuinely concerned. “You’re separated? Have you started divorce proceedings?”
It had crossed his mind…but Jason couldn’t make himself call his lawyer. Some senseless part of him kept hoping that if he gave her more time, she would return.
It’s been three hundred forty-four days. What are the odds she’ll come back to play happy wife?
“No.”
“Has she violated her prenup? You do have one, right?”
“I do, and she hasn’t.”
His mother looked around his condo. All sleek black leather, chrome, floor to ceiling windows, and pristine kitchen—without a feminine touch anywhere. Every square inch of the place screamed bachelor pad. Samantha might be a pain in his ass, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d know his wife didn’t live here and never had.
“How has she not violated the terms of the agreement? You were specific, right?”
“I outlined how much money she would receive after every milestone anniversary if we divorced. There’s a sunset clause after twenty-five years. There’s a division of assets in the event of my death.” He shrugged. “Typical stuff, but nothing she violated.”
