“Of course.” I’d probably be in desperate need of a full debrief. I hung up the phone, tucking it into my pocket as I hurried to open my door. Isla stood there, hands in the pockets of her jeans.
“Your car’s here,” she said.
“Thanks.” I could have walked across town to the Sheriff Court Building on the high street, but the reality was, I couldn’t stomach the idea of everyone seeing and recognizing me. I didn’t want to have to deal with the questions from people wondering why I wasn’t with Weston.
Isla gave me a nod. “You need anything else?”
“Just the bill.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you not to worry about that.” She’d said the same thing when she’d handed me the room key.
“I mean it.”
“So do I. Missed you around town.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I admitted. I missed walking down the high street, hearing my name called, saying hello to people who had so quickly become my friends. I missed Bonnie and Agnes and Callum. I wondered how Arran was getting on. I even missed Jo and her busybody ways. But mostly I missed Weston.
I couldn’t miss him.
“You’ll have to come visit me in Houston some time,” I told Isla.
“So you don’t think you’ll be coming back?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Her cheek twitched, her lips pulled into a tight line, but there was understanding there too. At least, I thought so. She flicked her head in the direction of the stairs. “Better get down there before your cab drives off.”
I thanked her again, grabbed my purse, and headed off to play pretend for the last time.
The courthouse was a modest stone building near the center of town. The drive took less than five minutes.
Weston was waiting for me on the front steps when I pulled up. My stomach flipped, some part of me—everypart of me—warming at the sight of him before that instinctive reaction was replaced by a cold dread. I pressed on my stomach, silently begging it not to react to my stress levels with another epic vomit. At least I didn’t have plates full of haggis shoved in my face this time.
He stepped forward and opened the car door for me before I could get out, and I quickly dropped my hand.
“Hello, wife,” he said, extending his hand for me. His voice was low. Gravelly. Like he hadn’t spoken much today. His words broke some of the tension, but it couldn’t erase the awkwardness that clung to us now. Awkwardness we were going to have to shift before we walked into that building together.
“Hello, husband,” I said. It was easier than using his name. I reached for his arm. It was automatic. It was for show. Because none of this was real.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, his words overly polite, lacking the warmth I’d grown used to over the past couple of months. I hated it, but what did that matter?
“Of course. That’s what a good wife does,” I said. “Though I’m surprised you trusted me to come on my own and didn’t have me bundled away in the night.” I kept my gaze locked ahead even as I felt him stiffen. We passed beneath a coat of arms hung above the door. Inside, the walls were painted a dull gray color, with simple wooden benches filling the waiting area.
“Lena—
“Have your solicitors arrived?” I asked, cutting off whatever he was about to say.Happy couple. We were a happy freaking couple.That was the only way we were going to sell this and make sure Jasper didn’t rip away everything we’d worked so hard to achieve. “Their email said they’d be here early.”
“They’re preparing,” he confirmed, pointing out a door that led to the courtroom. There was only one. A single courtroom for a tiny town.
“Good,” I said, my insides trembling as he caught my eye. I ached to be this close to him after everything, but I’d promised to see this through, and whether he trusted me or not, I wasn’t about to go back on my word. Pete deserved to have his legacy come to fruition. I only wished I wouldn’t have let my heart get so tangled up in Weston.
The door to the courtroom swung open, and Henry Pembroke-Jones walked out to greet us. He was dressed in a smart navy suit and shiny dress shoes. He looked exactly as I imagined Weston’s lawyer would look on the day of the trial—confident.
“Weston,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Henry,” Weston replied.
“Lena, good to see you,” he said, shaking my hand next. “You both ready?”
