Page 19 of The Billionaire's Wife

I held back my retort. Nothing good was going to come from losing my cool. I needed to treat this like I would any other case with hostile witnesses and complex relationship dynamics.

Never mind that I didn’t do divorces anymore because of both of those things. I still had the skills.

I wanted to say, maybe I was grateful for the divorce case I’d handled last summer as a cashed-in favor, but I didn’t. That was taking it all too far. That case had been horrible and I was glad to be done with it, the client, and the client’s friend, who I had at one point considered one of my best clients and almost a friend myself.

I unlocked the car and got in.

Faith was a few steps behind me. She pulled the car door closed with more force than necessary. “How about now?”

I closed my eyes. “After dinner, okay? I need food.”

“Fine.”

I started the car. She might say “fine,” but I had a feeling it was anything but.

6

FAITH

Dinner was awkward and mostly silent.

Tristan had stopped at a taqueria on the way back to his condo. He’d assured me they were the best street tacos I’d ever had.

They were certainly close.

When we’d eaten and the dishes had been put into the dishwasher and the kitchen tidied, I was tempted to disappear back into my room and just leave it alone. I didn’t want to fight with him. I didn’t want to hear all the ways I’d messed up his life.

At the same time? If his problem with me was going to keep bubbling up as resentment and anger, we were probably both going to be better off getting it all out in the open. He’d heard my story.

Maybe now it was time I heard his.

I moved into the living room and settled in one of his ridiculously comfortable chairs. “Spill it.”

He heaved out a breath and sat across from me. “You left.”

My eyebrows lifted. “I left a note.”

“Pfft.” Tristan waved away my words. “Seriously, put yourself in my position and tell me a note would make it all better.”

I winced. Okay, no. Honestly? The two of us were similar enough that I could see now—even though I’d kept myself from seeing then—that the note probably made things worse. “How many times do I need to apologize?”

“I don’t…you’re not understanding.” Tristan closed his eyes and I could practically see him lining up the conversation in his mind. “I loved you. I know you thought I married you to help you out. And okay, sure, cool side benefit, but that’s not why. You could’ve come to stay with me at college to get away without the whole marriage thing. You had to know that, didn’t you? I thought we were going to figure it out and make it work. That you were at least willing to try to love me back.”

I blinked.

Of all the things he could have said, that was not one that I was remotely prepared for. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

He nodded and looked away. “Did you think I would have slept with you if it was all just for show? If I didn’t plan for us to be together?”

My cheeks burned. It was good he wasn’t looking at me, because I don’t think I could have met his eyes. The years since then had done a good job of peeling away all the convenient lies I’d tried to believe and now all that was left was honesty. “No. But I tried desperately not to believe it.”

“Why?” He turned back.

Now I couldn’t look away. No matter how much I might want to. My throat was so tight it hurt when I spoke. “No one has ever loved me without strings. I figured sex was your string.”

I’d never seen someone’s face completely lose all its color. And it wasn’t as if Tristan was tan to start with. Now he looked like he was about to pass out.

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I see.”

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