“Because he’s stubborn like you.”
“So,” I growled, “if that’s the fate you’re going for, go right ahead. But your death won’t be fictional. It will be 100% legit. Because if you so much as look at my wife or my sister, I’ll?—”
“Kill me yourself?” he asked. “I thought you said Juliette Serrant wasn’t all that. She must be something if you’d go to jail for her.” He shrugged one shoulder like he wasn’t about to be my first victim. “Just sayin’.”
My jaw locked. But rather than kill him, I glared instead.
“Which part makes you madder?” he asked. “The image of me with your sister or the fact that I hit the nail on the head?”
It was pretty equal, honestly.
I jumped to my feet, swiped my empty Gatorade bottles off the ground, and stalked away.
“It’s the sister, right?” he called, a smirk in his voice. “Just promise you’ll take me home with you when it hits you how stupid you’re being.”
“I’m not the one being stupid!” I whirled to face him. “I’m finding myself, okay?” Lies. I’d never felt more lost. “And I’m not taking you with me, because I’m not going back!”
“Griffin Tate Dupree?” a male voice whimpered, right at my back.
I spun back around to see… nothing.
“Down here.” A hand waved in my face, way too close.
I looked down. Right in front of me stood a man barelyfive feet tall, with a magnificent head of white hair and an even more magnificent three-piece suit.
He shoved a legal folder toward me. “You’ve been served.”
I took the folder, my mouth parting slightly. “Served what? I haven’t done anything wrong. How did you even find me out here?”
“It’s my job to find you. Have a nice day.” Then he whipped around, shrieked when he realized the sole of his shoe was smoking, and sprinted out of view.
“Oh, I think you’re going home now,” Boone sang, barely holding it together.
“What are you talking about?” I grumbled, ripping the folder open. I stared down at the document. COMPLAINT FOR DIVORCE. My stomach dropped to the sizzling ground. I spotted a sticky note at the bottom of the first page. “What the…”
Like he thought I’d suddenly forgotten how to read, Boone narrated the handwritten message.
Not Juliette, not Jules. Just J. Like shecouldn’t be bothered to write her name.
“Holden?” I said his name like an accusation. The air went out of… everything. “J-Jules is di-divorcing me?”
Boone flipped the sticky note over. “Oh, there’s a PS.”
“XOXO?” my voice cracked. “She can’t write XOXO on a sticky note and attach it to divorce papers!”
“These aren’t divorce papers,” Boone stated. “This is just the document letting you know they’ll be coming soon.” He flipped to the next page. “Just kidding. She included a marital settlement agreement.” He flipped another page. “And a waiver of service.” And another. “The Consent Documents. Yup,” he said, almost admiringly. “She’s included everything you need to end it now. You sign that and you’re a free man in a couple of weeks.”
I ripped the papers from his reach. “Stop talking,” I said, my lungs burning hotter than the fire we’d just fought. Jules was divorcing me? This separation was supposed to be temporary. A quick breather so she could realize she missed me too much to stay in Seddledowne. But divorce? Was…permanent. Final. “No,” I growled. “Absolutely not.” I jammed the papers back into the folder. “Have it your way, Jules. Two can play this game.”
“Awfully hard to play a game when you’re thousands of miles apart,” Boone said.
“Shut it. We won’t be thousands of milesapart for long.”
“What was that?” He cupped his ear again. “Did someone make a complete U-turn?”
“Careful, Boonie Boy. You’re still standing awfully close to that cliff—and I’m mad enough now that I just might do it.”
He sprinted past me, face twisted in mock terror. Then he clicked his tongue like I was his puppy. “Let’s go, Ctrl-Z. I’ll drop you at the airport.”
