Page 1 of The Billionaire's Wife

1

TRISTAN

“Faith.” I took a long look at the woman by my door. She’d changed. Of course she had. It had been fourteen years since I’d seen her in person. And she was good at keeping a low profile online. Even with the tools at my disposal as an attorney, I’d had a hard time keeping track of her. I cleared my throat and dug my keys out of my pocket, then closed the distance to the door.

Faith stepped out of the way.

My lips twitched up. She still smelled like watermelon bubble gum. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, then glanced over my shoulder. “I guess you should come in.”

I paused just inside the door of my condo to take off my shoes and set down my bags. I didn’t bother to see if she followed. I needed aspirin. And a minute to gather my wits. Why was she here?

I stalked to the kitchen and yanked open the drawer where I kept vitamins and first aid basics. I grabbed the pain reliever bottle and wrestled with the cap. When it finally came off, I shook two into my hand and tossed them into my mouth so I could swallow them dry.

“Bad day?” Faith leaned against the corner of the hallway wall where it ended at the kitchen.

“Just long.” I closed the bottle and put it back in the drawer, then moved to the fridge. I grabbed a diet ginger ale and, after a moment, held it up. “Want?”

Faith’s eyebrows lifted. She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

I could think of ten reasons why not just off the top of my head, but I reached into the fridge to grab a second can instead. I shut the door, set one of the cans on the island and pushed it toward her, then popped the tab on my drink and took several long swallows of the icy cold soda.

My headache didn’t magically disappear, but I could pretend that I felt it easing. “Did you lock the door?”

“I did.” Faith scooted a little closer and stretched to get the soda.

I headed into the living room and dropped into an armchair, then propped my feet on the coffee table. I didn’t want to be the one to broach the topic. Silence was the best weapon of a lawyer. Most people felt the need to fill silence with noise. I learned a lot that way. So. I’d wait. And I’d see what I could learn from Faith.

Faith opened her soda and shuffled into the living room. She hovered at the edge a moment, like a nervous butterfly, before finally lighting on the sofa. But she stayed perched on the edge.

Purposefully casual, I lifted my drink and took a sip.

Faith cleared her throat. “So. Hi.”

I tipped my head to the side.

“Right. Of course you’re not going to make this easy.” Faith set her soda on the coffee table. She reached up and pulled off the baseball cap, then gathered her long, brown hair and twisted it into a knot that she fastened with a band off her wrist.

“Am I supposed to?” I sat up, my feet dropping to the floor. “It’s been a minute since you disappeared, Faith.”

She swallowed visibly.

“I’m ordering Chinese.” I dug my phone out of my pocket. “You still like pot stickers and pork fried rice?”

Surprise flashed across her face before she nodded.

Maybe I shouldn’t remember her favorite meal. But I did. I remembered everything. No matter how much I tried to forget. I didn’t bother to sigh as I opened the app for my favorite Chinese delivery, then I glanced up. “Feel free to keep talking.”

“Should I start by saying I’m sorry?” Faith twisted her fingers together.

“Only if you are.” I offered a tight smile then returned to ordering the food. I was being antagonistic. I could put the blame on my headache, but that wasn’t the only reason. All the hurt I’d buried had resurfaced the minute she’d spoken in the hall. Fourteen years, and the gaping wound she’d made when she walked out was still bleeding.

“Tristan.” Faith stopped and I heard her take a deep breath.

I looked up.

She blew out her breath. “I am sorry.”

I nodded. I wanted to ask for more details. Was she sorry for leaving? Sorry for hurting me? Sorry for disappearing? Or was she simply sorry because I’d implied she should be?

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