Page 11 of Marrying My Ex's Boss

“I only did that with that consulate prick in Myanmar.”

“So why….? Is she dickmatized? Carl, you take a look; you’re the one with medical experience.”

“And how pray do tell do I diagnose dickmatization?” He turned to me after answering her with his nose in the air.

“Ma’am, I take it that you’re not sure that this is real, that he is real. I assure you that he is. I know your father was in the military; I’m ex-Navy myself.”

“How did you….?”

“It’s my business to know these things. Mr. Devereaux guessed that you might be worried about your children. They are at your mother-in-law’s home at three-seven-three Eastwood Lane.”

“Her mother-in-law is dead. Ex-mother-in-law, ex.” Marcus made that distinction before turning back to the stove in his frilly apron.

“Does he do this a lot? Pick up strange women, I mean.”

“No, this is the first time I’ve seen it in fifteen years,” Carl answered, and I looked at Monique for confirmation. She’s like my tribe; she won’t bullshit me.

“He’s done some crazy shit, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this nuts over a woman before. It must be the real thing. Tell him to give me his new Phantom, and I’ll tell you all his secrets.”

“Give her your Phantom.”

“I’ll get you your own and Monique, no.”

“Why not?” She actually pouted.

“Because it is illegal for someone with your intellect to get behind the wheel of a car,” Carl answered with a straight face.

“Eat shit and die, you old sea dog.”

“Time out, both of you, or you can go sit in the sand.”

“You must be out your damn mind. You know how much you paid for these shoes?” She cocked one of her heels to the side, and I got a glimpse of the snakeskin red-bottomed shoe.

“No, I try not to pay too much attention to your highway robbery. Though I think Carl is keeping a tab.”

“Two-hundred and fifty-three thousand….” She threw something across the table at him, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

Justice was sitting up in his seat with his chin on the table, enjoying the show. ‘I like her. She’s my kinda girl. We’re going to do lots of naughty things together.’

Your ass gonna end up in jail or the madhouse.

Either way, we fucking, either way.

* * *

Marcus made Monique her eggs and brewed another pot of coffee because Carl seemed to need it intravenously. He kept casing the place like he was on twenty-four-seven alert. “You two ready? Monique, take notes.” She opened her bag and pulled out a notepad and a felt pen. I haven’t seen one of those in years.

She saw me looking and explained. “Oh, Che Guevara over here don’t like me to take electronic notes.”

“Why not?” I stupidly asked.

“You can eat paper or burn it. Everything you put in those devices leaves a trail.” Marcus answered as he refilled everyone’s mugs.

He went through pretty much everything we had discussed so far about my divorce and the three of them were discussing the best course of action and who would take care of what.

I felt like I was standing outside a big-picture window watching a play being enacted. This whole thing was so far out of the realm of my norm that it wasn’t even slightly plausible. And yet, I could almost feel like it was happening.

My husband is rich, not life-changing for the long run rich. But if he stayed in his job for a good few more years, he’d be able to retire without a worry. This wasn’t that. I’ve never seen what this is before, not up close and personal.

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