Page 114 of Dream Chaser

I chuckled. “Remember the one we had in college? It lasted until March.”

“This one will last longer. I’ll stop by for weekly checkups.”

“And you’ll bring wine.”

She winked. “Duh, of course. I’ve got some in that red bag too. Straight from la France.”

“Thank you, Scar. You’re spoiling me.”

“Like every friend should. Like everyone should, because you deserve it.”

I blinked, peeking into the red bag, trying to hide the tears that welled up in my eyes. She’d always cared about me. If only I’d been smart enough to keep our friendship alive after college.

A gift wrapped in white paper with a red bow on the front caught my eye. I shook the box, and something splashed inside.

“Wait,” I said. “Don’t tell me it’s my favorite perfume.”

“This one hasn’t launched yet. I’ve been working on it in France. Your favorite one is also in the bag.”

She laughed as I squeezed her in another hug.

“I don’t deserve you,” I said.

“You do, silly.” She smoothed a hand down my back. “Of course, you do.”

***

An hour later, we sat on the couch, an open box of chocolates on the coffee table and wineglasses in hand.

“I must admit”—Scarlett popped a candy into her mouth—“you’re an excellent cook. That tenderloin melted on my tongue. And that sauce? Girl, if you get tired of marketing, you could become a world-class chef, and I’m not even kidding.”

I grimaced. “No, thanks. I love cooking, but only if it’s stress-free, like tonight.”

“Cheers to a stress-free life.” Scarlett clinked her goblet against mine.

“It’d be a nice one to live,” I said quietly, rubbing the stem of my glass.

“Okay.” She sat straighter. “Time to spill the tea. Tell me everything I missed. How’s the divorce going?”

“It isn’t.” I leaned my head on the back of the couch. “Preston still hasn’t abandoned the idea of getting back the money he invested in my grandma’s place.”

“Oh wow.” Scarlett’s face twisted into a grimace. “First he illegally touches what’s yours, and then he wants compensation?”

“Probably needs to feel important after losing the election.”

“He deserved to lose.”

I took another sip, shrugging. “Sure did, but I don’t care. I just want to be single and free. I wish he’d just stop. Sometimes I think I’d rather pay than keep up this back-and-forth.”

“No.” Scarlett wiggled her finger. “No, my dear. He’s not going to get a cent of your money.”

“If this drags on, I’ll keep paying thousands in lawyer’s fees. Even more if this goes to court.”

“Bet that’s what that asshole wants,” Scarlett mumbled, twirling her glass. “His fragile male ego can’t stand the thought of you thriving without him, so he wants to make sure you don’t. But you will.”

I wished I had Scarlett’s optimism, but helplessness was beginning to creep in. I had way better things to do with my money than spend it on my divorce, like taking a photography course to hone my skills or investing in my own photography business. I’d started working on it after Pradollano. Now I had a portfolio. Soon, I’d have a website.

“I need to talk to my lawyer,” I said. “I’d rather Preston and I reach an agreement sooner rather than later.”