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Has she missed me too? I have to find out… if she gets her way, after this weekend I’ll sign divorce papers and there will be no more family obligations. She’ll be completely out of my life. Determination bolts through my veins. No. I can’t let that happen.

I have this weekend to show her we deserve a second chance.



I slipout of the large free standing bathtub and wrap myself with the fluffiest robe I’ve ever touched.

Lillian wasn’t kidding… this view is out of this world. Lush, tall coconut trees below, and the glorious beach on the horizon. Because our room is on the second floor, no one can see us from the outside—but that’s due to the type of glass. A couple on a honeymoon could make love right against the wall, with the whole world below.

I quiver. We never got to have a honeymoon because he was knees-deep into work at his sugar baby company, and I was launching a new jewelry line with an important department store chain. We decided to do it later… but later never came.

I comb my hair, then look around for clothes. Oh, shit. I should have brought them to the bathroom. I inhale, exhale and repeat before I twist the door handle and return to the interior of the large suite we’re occupying.

Now it’s time to face the music… or the hot man sitting in a chair wearing lounge pants and a gray cotton shirt, scrolling through his phone.

I clear my throat, and he raises his gaze from his phone to me. “I just need to grab a few things,” I say. We haven’t really talked much at all, what with a long dinner with his family, then me scurrying to the room to take a shower.

I knew part of this charade was sharing a room with him, but now, it’s all so… real.

When I dash to the luggage rack and open my luggage, I fumble through my things, searching for the respectable dark blue silk pair of pajamas I brought. I can see his gaze on me, and it’s a weird sensation—what is he thinking?

“Eliza,” he says in that deep, rich voice that sends my heart racing.

I stop fumbling, but don’t turn around to see him. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry about what Mimi said about making babies. She doesn’t know, and I figured if I made a big deal about it, it’d only get worse.”

I circle back to see him, and shrug. “It’s okay. She’s a sweetheart.” A bit of an overbearing sweetheart, sure, but I figure she’s not going to change now at eighty-years-old. I didn’t want anyone to know about my miscarriage, and four weeks after, when he left, my fear had turned true. He’d married me because of my pregnancy. I bet he felt relief afterward.

“No it’s not…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I fucked up, Eliza.”

“Yes, you did. That’s why we’ve agreed on getting a divorce after this trip,” I say evenly, not only to him but so I can hear myself too. It’s important I remember the boundaries here… even if every little part of me questions my decisions.

Loving him though can’t make him love me back. Not then, not now.

“I was talking about not setting things straight with Mimi.”

A hot wave of embarrassment crosses my face. “Oh.” Of course he wasn’t thinking about our break-up. He’s moved on. He’s part of a fucking sugar baby agency. Women are probably crawling through the windows to get to him. “How’s work?”


“I bet,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes. A small voice inside me warns me against being petty right now, but I ignore it. “All those hot young women for you to vet.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re talking like I’m part of some sex trafficking operation. I thought after all this time you’d be less judgmental,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or amused.

“I am just saying…” my voice trails off. Okay, so I am being judgmental, but not for the reasons he’s assuming.

“You should be happy I’m doing so well, Eliza. Our divorce settlement will be good for you.”


I taste bile at the back of my throat. Just because it’s what we need, doesn’t mean it’s what I want. “I don’t need a cent of your money,” I say. I haven’t crawled my way to the top of the Texas’ jewelry designers for nothing. “Besides, we weren’t together that long… it’s not like it was a real marriage, anyway.”

He stands, and I see hurt in his eyes.

A twinge of regret twists in my chest, and I second-guess my words. But now it’s too late. The words already left my lips, and now they hang in the air between us, cementing the resentment from both sides. Certainly from my side.

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