Page 13 of Embracing the Change

So much, my legendary iron control snapped, and I jabbed at my phone until I heard it ringing.

I put it to my ear.

“Good God, it’s harder than fuck to get in touch with you,” Roland snarled by way of greeting.

“Well, warmest regards to you as well, my not-so-dearest, but thankfully only ex,” I drawled.

His tone changed to cajoling. “Nora?—”

Oh no, we weren’t doing this.

“Stop contacting me,” I bit. “I cannot begin to imagine how you haven’t received the signal I’ve been sending loud and clear but allow me to make it even clearer. I. Do. Not. Want. Any. Contact. With. You.”

“I’m in love with you, desperately, I have been since the moment I saw you, and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life wasn’t losing you, it was hurting you.”

I sat perfectly still in the back of a luxurious town car, seeing, without really seeing, the massive yacht Chloe had hired for our adventure (but of course it was massive, and openly opulent, so very Chloe—Lord, I loved that girl) looming larger and larger as we approached.

I did this while hearing my ex-husband’s words rattling around in my brain.

The only reason I snapped out of it was noting Chloe, Cadence, and God save me, Jamie’s daughter Dru hanging over the railing on the deck at the side of the yacht, waving excitedly at my approaching car (well, Chloe wasn’t waving excitedly, that wasn’t Chloe’s way, but I could see she was watching my arrival).

“I can’t do this now,” I said in a small voice.

Roland, not one to miss an opportunity, or miss noting an opportunity was there to be exploited, and I’d regrettably given him both in my moment-of-silence response to his words and following it with a small voice, did not miss the opportunity.

He said quickly, “Listen to me, darling.”

“I really can’t do this now,” I repeated.

“Dinner, tomorrow. Anywhere you like, but I’d prefer you came to mine so we can talk in private. I’ll cook.”

He was a fabulous cook. His Italian grandmother taught him. He didn’t do it often, but I’d always loved every tidbit he’d presented to me.

“I’m leaving on a cruise in about thirty minutes.”

That wasn’t true. I was late, per my protocol (how else could I execute the perfect entrance?). The yacht was set to launch in about ten.

“Then let’s make plans now for when you return.”

“Roland—”

“Please, Nora, allow me the chance to explain.”

My driver swung around to the red carpet that had been laid out to the gangway, and he got out of the car. But he didn’t come to my door as I was on the phone. He went to the trunk to deal with my bags, handing them over to the white-uniformed crew that waited at the edge of the carpet for that purpose.

As this happened, fury roiled in that deep pit I’d buried the lost love and hope of a happily ever after with Roland (or ever having one at all), and for the first time in eons, I allowed it to froth over.

“As you’re of that particular gender, and you’re making this request, then you’re in the position to explain to me, when a man breaks a woman’s heart, how he feels it’s within his right to request her time and attention in explaining why he did such a monstruous thing.”

“Your heart wasn’t the only one that was broken.”

“Yes, but you did the breaking of yours.”

“No, my darling, you did.”

He wasn’t serious.

“Pardon me?” I rapped out.

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