Page 23 of The Billionaire's Wife

7

TRISTAN

Friday after work, I unlocked the door to my condo, stepped in, and once again—like I had all week—frowned at the silence. A week ago today, I’d come home to find Faith knocking. And then she’d disappeared again.

Maybe I should be willing to give her props for saying goodbye this time, but I couldn’t quite get there.

With a sigh, I closed the door and flipped the locks before toeing off my shoes and kicking them over to the wall. I carried my backpack with me and turned to stare down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

It was time.

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to clean her room. No. Not her room. The guest room. My home office.

I needed to stop tripping over the box of files in my bedroom and go back to using my desk. I should change the sheets and make the bed in case—ha ha—someone wanted to come visit.

I should have done it before today, but I’d found excuses. On Tuesday, I convinced myself that she’d be back. Same on Wednesday. Thursday? I’d given up on her returning, but the fridge had been bare and I’d decided to shop in person instead of ordering online like I usually did. So I’d run out of time.

I couldn’t come up with another excuse. Not even poker night—because the guys had decided they were coming here. So that only added a new reason for me to tidy.

“Better just get to it.” I took a deep breath and strode down the hall. I gripped the doorknob and hesitated. “I can do this.”

I twisted the knob and opened the door to the guest room. I could smell her.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the gentle scent of apples. It was her shampoo—she’d used the same scent all through high school. I’d teased her about it some when she switched, but she’d gone along with it.

I marched to the desk and put my backpack down in the middle. There. Reclaiming the space.

I wanted to call it enough, but it seemed cowardly. I checked the time—but there was still plenty before the guys showed up, so that excuse was out the window. Might as well get to it.

I turned and faced the bed and my heart stopped. The envelope holding the divorce papers sat in the middle of the bed.

Why did it surprise me? I’d given them to her. Of course she signed them and left them for me to deal with. I even sounded annoyed in my head, but I wasn’t, really. I’d started the process. It made sense that it fell to me to finish it. Plus I was a lawyer.

And, bonus, given that she’d signed them easily, this shouldn’t have to go to court and get sticky. It would be a simple, dare I say amicable, parting of ways. Done and dusted.

So why wasn’t I happy?

I gave a derisive laugh. Because this wasn’t what I wanted. I’d regretted tossing the papers at her almost as soon as they left my fingers. Oh, I stood by the decision—but it hurt. I’d loved Faith for a lot of years, and I wasn’t quite sure how to stop.

But now I was going to have to figure it out.

I picked up the envelope and smacked it against my palm for a moment before taking it over to the desk and putting it on top of my backpack. Then I got to work stripping off the sheets, concentrating hard to ignore the urge to curl up in them and pretend, for as long as I could manage, that I’d traveled back in time and I was still in college and the reason she wasn’t in bed beside me was because she’d gotten up to get us both coffee to drink while we cuddled.

I balled up the sheets and carried them to the washing machine, then pushed them in, added soap, and slammed the door closed, furious with myself for not only letting that memory loose, but luxuriating in it. That way lay madness.

I got the machine going, grabbed the spare set of sheets out of the linen closet, and made quick work of remaking the bed.

I still had twenty or so minutes before any of the guys would show up. I should have moved the files and set my desk back up. I should have looked over the divorce papers and made sure they were ready to file. Instead, I padded into the kitchen, grabbed a soda out of the fridge, and collapsed on the couch with my feet on the coffee table so I could scroll mindlessly through the various websites I followed.

I was relieved at the first knock. I left my soda on the coffee table and hurried to open it.

“Hey, man.” Scott stepped in with a grin and kicked his shoes off and over by mine. “I’m surprised you offered to host with Faith here.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Offered? You have an interesting definition of that word. Plus, she’s gone.”

“Yeah? She decided to join the girls? I’ll let Whit know to keep an eye out. I’m surprised you didn’t take her over. She’s not walking home in the dark, is she?” Scott followed me back to the living room, peppering me with questions.

I resumed my seat and picked up my soda. “She’s not joining the women. She’s gone. Left. Disappeared. Again.”

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