AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t even know what’s happening right now.
We’re all just standing here like someone called Cut! on filming, and now we don’t know what to do when we don’t have our parts to play. Even Marissa looks like a puppet with her strings cut.
The worst part is, Elle would know what to do right now.
She’d know how to smooth things over and move everything forward again.
Of course Elle’s not here anymore, thanks to my dumb ass.
All this time, I’ve been so angry at what my ex-wife did, expecting each and every last woman in my life to hurt me the same way Charisma did.
Only, I was the one who hurt the one woman who was trying her very best not to.
I knew I would.
I knew I’d hurt her again.
For a few bright minutes, I fooled myself into believing I could behave like a civilized human being.
Like the man she truly deserves.
It’s the stiff, silent lawyer who finally breaks the awkward scene. He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and plucks the recorder from Marissa’s hand. “I’ll just add this to our evidence and make sure it’s entered into the record before the case.”
Marissa shakes herself, giving him a lost look before her face tightens into a scowl.
“Right.” She sweeps us with a look. “The only Marshall who was invited here was Clara. The rest of you can get off my property. Unless you want me to have security escort you out.” Her eyes flick to me like glinting knives.
Very fucking funny, throwing my words back at me.
“Let’s go.” Aunt Clara touches my arm lightly.
Deb catches my eye over her head. She doesn’t have to mouth any words at me for me to know what she’s saying.
I’ve known her my whole life, and despite our teasing and bickering, she’s still my sister.
We’ll talk later, she says silently.
Still dazed, I start moving, feeling like the entire world’s been ripped out from under me.
I escort Clara to my car and tuck her into the passenger seat, then climb in and wait for Deb to drive through the roundabout before I follow her car like we’re in a funeral procession.
It’s dead silent, though now and then I’m painfully aware of little things like Rick’s sunglasses clipped to the visor, a bottle cap from one of his lemon Italian sodas in the cup holder, all those reminders that—fuck.
I can’t even sort my feelings there.
Why? Why didn’t he just trust me enough to come for help, instead of letting Marissa goddamned Sullivan blackmail him against me?
Then again, when I refuse to trust anyone else—
Have I really been someone who anyone could turn to for help in their darkest hour? Even my driver?
Goddammit.
Fine.
Maybe after this is over, we’ll sort this out and we’ll talk. But it’ll be a long damned time before I trust Rick to do anything more than pick up my dry cleaning.
I’ll definitely hire someone to get that compromising info Marissa has, even if it’s by less-than-legal methods.
