Something I wish I hadn’t done.
Things have been quiet on the divorce and the offer front, but here they are again. Back to annoy the fuck out of me.
* * *
Nancy Melton: Sean’s legal counsel has sent through a final offer. Please call me when you get a chance.
* * *
I let out a perturbed sigh, my head falling back against the headrest as I flash my phone screen so Kai can see.
“Do you want to give her a call or let them squirm?” Kai asks me, simple and to the point. “Your choice. What you don’t realize, Quinn, is that you have all the power in this situation. All they have are threats and money.”
He’s right. That is all they have. I’ve done nothing wrong in this situation, yet I’m being made out to be the difficult one. It’s only a matter of time before this all goes public. The media loves a breakup, especially one that has a strongly guarded backstory.
I’ll be getting calls from websites, magazines, talk shows asking for interviews, and once again being thrown money to tell my side of the story—a story that won’t be able to be told if I sign that NDA.
“I’m going to let them squirm,” I say with a satisfied smile. “Maybe if I make them wait long enough, the offer will be fifty million.”
The amount is a bit of a joke, and even as I say it, it sounds ridiculous. He has a ton of money, but he’s not willing to part with that much.
Again, my phone chimes, and I roll my eyes. Nancy really wants a cut of my settlement offer with Sean because that’s what was agreed upon when I hired her. If I settled, she would get a percentage, if I don’t, Sean pays her retainer, legal fees and court costs. Obviously, the latter would be much less money for her.
But when I grab my phone out of my bag, where I tossed it after seeing her text, it’s a text from my sister, and all it is are images.
A stack of three pictures that I stupidly open.
The first one is Sean’s profile on a dating app that says he’s been active for the last five years. While it’s no surprise, it still stings.
The next two are gossip site articles about Sean’s newfound single life. One of these “journalists” located his profile and has written an article full of speculation and lies.
* * *
I quickly text her back, sending exactly what I want to say: nothing more, nothing less.
* * *
Me: No thanks, Isla. I’ll call you later.
* * *
With that, I turn my phone off, shoving it into the bottom of my bag. Out of sight, out of mind. I’m tired of letting this bullshit ruin my happiness here.
Now that things have gone public, I’m going to turn my phone back on and be inundated with messages and calls—all things I want to ignore for at least the rest of today. Honestly, I’d like to act like it never happened, but that’s not how this is going to go down.
“You okay?” Kai asks, reaching over to rest his hand on my thigh.
“Yep, all good. Phone is off. Let’s get this surprise going.”
We arrive about ten minutes later at a marina, and Kai takes my hand as we exit the car, leading me to a boat that is parked next to a worn wooden dock. And while the marina is saltwater-weathered, the boat is a beautiful classic, all restored, but still shows its age.
“You know how to drive this?” I ask him as he steps aboard, holding out a hand for me. A stupid question because he was raised on the water.
“Of course I do. It’s my dad’s boat. Grew up on this thing,” he says, untying it and shoving away from the dock. “We’re going to do a little boating, a little snorkeling, and if you want, there’s a stateroom…” Trailing off, he hits me with a sexy smirk. “We could do a little making out.”
“All of that sounds like a pretty awesome second or third date,” I joke. “You’re really outdoing yourself when it comes to this dating thing, too. No one would ever guess you’re a first-timer.”
“I might be a first-time dater, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to do cool shit like surf and sail, snorkel and have nice dinners. I’ve just never done these things with anyone but my friends. Now I get to share it with a girl I’m fucking head over heels for.”
