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Chip and I both laugh. Chip disentangles himself from us and gets to his feet. I look at him. “You taking off already?” I ask, surprised, and maybe a little hurt.
“Oh, no, just gonna borrow your bathroom and clean up a little.”
He heads for the bathroom and I hear the sink running. Hazel sighs happily and snuggles her head into my chest. “Well,” she remarks, “That was unexpected.”
“You’re telling me,” I laugh.
I hear a phone start to ring. The ringtone isn’t mine or Hazel’s, so my initial thought it maybe it’s the resort phone, but then I see a glow on the floor beside me and realize it’s Chip’s cell phone, having tumbled from the pocket of his pants in the chaos.
“Hey, Chip,” I call, “Your phone’s ringing, want me to grab it for you?”
“Sure, thanks!” he calls back, “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Hazel lifts her head off my chest to make it easier for me to reach down and grab the device. I scoop it up, swiping the screen to answer. “Hello?”
“Um, hi, I’m uh, I’m looking for Chip Bailey?” a hesitant female voice asks.
“Yeah, hang on just one second,” I sit up, getting off the bed to take the phone to Chip in the bathroom, “Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Yeah, uh, this is Emma. Emma Bailey. I’m his wife.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chip
I pad back into the bedroom to see a stunned-looking Brendon standing beside the bed, my phone pressed to his ear. “I’m sorry,” he says, “You’re his what?”
Hazel looks at him with a furrowed brow, and I’m sure my face mirrors her confusion. There’s an edge to Brendon’s voice that sends chills down my spine. “Right,” he says, “Just a moment.”
He turns to me, holding the phone out. His jaw is tight, blue eyes frosty. “It’s your wife,” he says flatly.
For a second, I think this is some kind of joke and a nervous laugh escapes me. “What?” I take the phone from him, lifting it to my ear, “Hello?”
“Um…hey, Chip. Long time no talk.”
My blood runs cold. The voice on the other end of the line is one I never thought I would hear again. “Emma.”
Brendon turns away from me and starts gathering my clothes off the floor, tossing them at me and pulling on his own in the process. “Brendon, wait,” I say, trying to hang onto the phone while catching things.
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Emma asks.
“Yeah, kind of the worst possible timing,” I grit out, “I’ll call you back.”
With that, I hang up. I recognize the number on the screen as the one I’d gotten the mystery text from the other day. Of all the possibilities that had run through my mind, I’d never suspected that it was my ex-wife.
Or, I guess, technically Emma was still my wife, legally, although we’d been separated for over six years. After doing her best to ruin my life and cheating on me repeatedly, she had left me several months before I moved away from New York, and I hadn’t seen or heard a word from her since the day she’d walked out.
I had no idea where to find her once she’d left, so I’d never been able to serve her with divorce papers.
She was the one who’d destroyed my career and forced me out of the only city I’d ever called home. She’s the reason I don’t date anymore, because I know firsthand how it feels to give everything you have, everything you are, to another person and have them throw it all back in your face with a middle finger.
And now, somehow, it seems she’s managed to step back into my life in the worst way possible and dropped another fucking bombshell.
“Brendon, wait, give me a chance to explain-”
“I need some air,” he says, “And I want you gone by the time I get back.”
“Wait, please, Bren-”
