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Liam
“No?” I cough out, though maybe the whole low-speed chase out of O’Hare should have clued me in.
It doesn’t make sense. She’s beautiful, funny, sharp, and young. She’s fucking desirable. A year ago, yeah, we both had our reasons for doing what we did. But after all this time, I figured she’d be ready to move on.
Whyisn’t she ready to move on?
“I’m sorry.” She winces. “Probably not what you were expecting to hear.”
I give her a slow shake of my head. “You caught me by surprise, is all.”
“I know what we did was crazy. And I hope it hasn’t caused you any problems or… umm, gotten in your way.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and I realize what she’s getting at. Another woman. An obstacle or impediment to some happily ever after. But she’s so far off base it would be laughable if—
No ifs. That’s exactly what it is.
Straightening, I shake my head. “Stormy, this isn’t about a conflicting relationship. There’s no other girl.”
“I mean, it would be fine if there was. Obviously.” She won’t look at me now.
“Okay. But mostly, it’s not the sort of thing you need hanging over your head.”
Hell, when I booked my ill-fated flight to Vegas for earlier today, it was as much about setting her free from our epic act of stupidity as it was about extracting myself from a potential shitstorm I was pretty sure the cocktail napkin with our prenup on it wouldn’t protect me from.
She straightens, leaning in. “Hey, I know I said I didn’twanta divorce, but I didn’t mean I wouldn’t give you one. It’s just that ‘that thing’ hanging over my head feels a lot like an umbrella… and I guess I wouldn’t have minded hanging on to my secret marriage a little longer.”
Ahh. “And by longer?”
That soft laugh and sheepish shrug tell me everything I need to know.
“I mean forever.”
This time I laugh with her. “Figured. But in lieu of that, how about I order us some food while we wait out the weather.”
She covers her stomach and gives me an enthusiastic nod. We settle on the Thai place across the street. It’s one of those dives that has your food in ten minutes if you pick it up, but somehow takes an hour if you get it delivered, so I opt to run down and grab it.
Downstairs, Derrick, the lobby security guard, is parked on one of the couches flipping through aPeoplemagazine in front of the fireplace. He takes one look at me and clucks like a mother hen.
The guy’s got to be seventy if he’s a day. Wrinkles like he spent his life at sea and a habit of checking on me like I’m his eight-year-old grandkid.
“Hey, Derrick. You don’t have to get up.”
He starts my way, and I slow because, while I might not be the friendliest guy on the team, I’m not a total dick. And this guy is sweet.
“No coat?” he asks, following me to the revolving door.
I rub a hand over my mouth, sort of wishing I’d brought Stormy in through the lobby instead of the private parking entrance. Something tells me she’d get a kick out of him. And I know he’d get a kick out of her.
“Just running across the street for some food. You eat yet?”
He waves me off, but I know he likes the spring rolls as much as he likes a bit of gossip here and there.
“Walk. The roads are worse than that ice you skate on. Nonstop sirens, and you hear about the pile-up on the Eisenhower?”
My stomach drops. “Bad?”
“Bad enough they shut it down. And this snow?” He squints at the darkness above. “It’s not letting up anytime soon.
