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“Meredith,” he snaps. “Stop. What the hell are you doing here?”
I step back and unclench my fist, thankful that I didn’t punch her. I surely would have lost my job.
Meredith is now laser focused on Tristan, thank God.
“Who the hell is this?” she yells, flinging a hand in my direction.
Tristan grabs her arm. “I asked—what areyoudoing here?”
“Who is this?” Again, she gestures to me.
“Jesus, Meredith.” Tristan shakes his head, then looks at me. “I amso sorry, Lavi.”
Although my heart is roaring in my chest, I nod and bite my tongue.
“This is my ex-wife,” he says. “Please excuse her.”
Ex-wife?
Though Tristan is speaking to me, Meredith won’t stop asking him who I am. The sudden rush of noise has my pulse skyrocketing.
Tristan has to grab Meredith by her shoulders for her to calm down, and he explains that he has hired me to help with Nina. At the mention of his (current) wife’s name, Meredith’s eyes narrow and glaze over like ice.
It becomes clear that I am standing in the middle of some sort of domestic or family issue.
Tristan turns to me again. “I’m so sorry. Let me handle this. Just give us a minute.”
“Yes, of course.” I bow my head like a servant and step back. There is something about Tristan that makes me feel less-than. More than just his success and money, he has an air of power about him.
Instead of going back upstairs, I make my way to the kitchen under the guise of getting a cup of tea. Once out of their line of sight, I sneak to the edge of the door frame to eavesdrop, but it is no use. Tristan is speaking to Meredith aggressively—there’s no mistaking that—but in a hushed manner. They are arguing back and forth, and there is only one word I can make out:
Nina.
Frowning, I press my back against the wall.
Tristan has an ex-wife? And what is she doing here? There was no mention of an ex-wife when I ran a Google search on him, and Mariana didn’t mention it either. I know that Tristan and Nina have been married for forty-ish years. So, this must have been a previous marriage?
Eventually, the voices in the foyer begin to calm.
I peek around the corner as Tristan and Meredith disappear down the hall. His hand is on her lower back.
Well, this is interesting.
I decide to actually make myself a cup of tea, considering I am wide awake now.
I am pouring boiling water into a cup when I sense someone behind me. I spin around, sloshing piping-hot water on my socked foot, and I wince.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tristan says quickly.
“No, no, it’s okay.” I wiggle my toe to confirm it is still there and not a melted pile of skin on the floor. Then I (carefully) slide the kettle onto a potholder.
When I turn back, Tristan is staring at me in that same damn way he’s done since we first met. I don’t like it.
“So,” I say, if only to break the weird tension that has suddenly filled the room. “That was ...”
“Yeah. I know.” Tristan sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “So, yeah, that’s my ex-wife, Meredith Nichols.” He steps deeper into the kitchen. His lip curls into an embarrassed smirk. “Life lesson: never marry a woman named Meredith.”
I snort. “Yeah, she’s, uh, something else.”
