Page 15 of The Billionaire's Wife

He laughed and started the car. “At least you’re still honest about some things.”

I hunched my shoulders and turned to look out my window. I was honest about a lot of things. I didn’t need him judging me.

I’d done what I needed to do.

I’d done what was best for me.

If I’d learned anything from my parents, it was how to look out for myself, and I wasn’t going to apologize for doing it.

5

TRISTAN

Iglanced at Faith out of the side of my eye. The woman was an enigma. One minute, she was warm and funny like the girl I remembered. The next she was fiery and sassy…well, also like the girl I remembered.

Maybe she hadn’t changed as much as it seemed.

Maybe I was the one who’d changed.

Not the important parts of me, of course. Oh, no. Not the part of me that loved her. And it was just as dumb and useless a feeling today as it had been fourteen years ago.

The reality of the situation, though? I didn’t trust her not to run again. If we were going to work together to get her free—really free—from the mess she’d made? It was going to take time. And it was likely to be hard.

Seriously hard.

Which meant she needed the “babysitter” she so adamantly didn’t want.

I backed out of my parking space and pointed the car toward Scott and Whitney’s townhouse. As much as I wanted to keep this part of my life to myself, I couldn’t delude myself that it was possible. Not anymore.

I’d been almost all the way to accepting it yesterday. My friends were…nosy. Oh, sure, they’d probably call it “concerned” or some other word that made them seem reasonable and me like I was acting suspicious. But seriously, a guy can’t miss church now and then?

Or beg off poker?

And not answer the phone or texts all weekend without notice?

My lips twitched. Yeah, fine. I wouldn’t let any of them slide like that, either. And probably, on some level, I appreciated it.

Just not right now.

“Is traffic always this bad?” Faith didn’t turn to look at me when she spoke.

“It’s not all that bad right now, honestly.” We were moving. There were plenty of nights on my way home from work that it felt like I spent more time sitting and waiting than actually creeping forward. “Most of the backup is the stoplights.”

“Ugh.”

“I thought you were living in a city.”

“I didn’t leave the house much.”

Right. I’d forgotten that part of her story. “If you’re used to that, why is it so hard now?”

She managed a short laugh. “Come on. Things you choose are always easier than things forced on you.”

Fair enough.

I gave the car a little extra gas and zipped through the light. I was going to absolutely defend the color as yellow if anyone asked. But no blue lights lit up in my rearview mirror, and that wasn’t one of the intersections with the new red-light cameras attached. So yay for me.

We made it through the business district and into the residential streets—finally—and traffic thinned even more. I spotted street parking not far from Scott’s townhouse, so I went ahead and pulled in, then turned off the car.

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