Page 139 of A Lucky Shot

Josh shot her a quelling glare, and her grin widened in response. “How we couldn’t have done this without her,” he finished. “It’ll make her really happy.”

Dawson leaned away from the screen and ran a hand through the blond locks he was already growing out for his next movie. “Alright, for Cassidy, then.”

Josh gave a curt nod. Everyone else he knew would be a slam dunk. Getting Big D on board was the second biggest hurdle.

The biggest hurdle glared at him from across the table. “You hurt her again, I’ll cut off your dick and put it in a jar on my mantle,” Libby said.

Dawson put his hand up. “If it comes to a duel, I’m Libby’s second.”

“Third,” Stephen said.

“Fourth,” Terry piped up.

Josh nodded grimly. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Noted. Now, I need help getting her interview portions done without her suspecting …”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CASS

Cass checked for notifications on her phone and winced. There weren’t any.

It had been years since she’d gone this long without hearing about a new gig. Terry should have been leaving their usual text bricks trying to cajole her into a new project by now. Their last message was a simple thanks! for filming the featurette. Nothing from Karl, or her wardrobe crew. Even Libby was being weird since she’d filmed her lines.

She was probably distracted with house hunting. Cramming Stephen into her studio apartment had a definite expiry date. Still, Libby looked happier than Cass had seen in years.

At least filming the featurette had paid well. Hours of her pasting on a bright smile and putting on a cheerful voice to talk about her costume design inspiration. Masking her disappointment when Stephen had told her Josh wasn’t filming himself, already working on some project back in Vancouver.

In Every Universe. That’s what it was called on IMDb. It had to be a Sirius Darker tie-in.

She wondered when she’d be brave enough to watch it.

A strident buzz jerked her head upright, and she scrambled for her phone. Her shoulders slumped. A delivery person peered into the fishbowl lens of her building’s front door camera.

At least her new fabric arrived. Something to keep her occupied. Never mind the half dozen projects she’d started over the last month but couldn’t keep her mind on long enough to finish.

“Package for Ms. St. Claire,” the courier droned, handing her a thick envelope that was definitely not the fabric she had ordered weeks ago.

“That’s me.” She scrawled her signature with the stubby stylus across the electronic screen and accepted the thick manilla envelope. She turned the package over, and her heart jolted in her throat as she read the sender.

Josh Graham.

He had been radio silent since she’d left him. No texts. No calls. No surreptitious messages via Stephen hinting to text him first.

What would he have sent her? The drawings she’d made of Tideways he’d borrowed from her months ago? Hardly worth a signed delivery. The envelope was far thicker than the small sheaf of papers she’d lent him. Then, she caught the envelope’s heading.

From the offices of Davis, Johnstone, and Mohammad Family Law.

Just as she was sliding a knife under the seal, her phone buzzed again with a new text. She glanced at the screen and dropped the package to the floor.

Have you opened it yet?

How had he … Electronic delivery signature. He received automatic notification she’d signed.

Cass picked up the envelope from the floor, the first pages peeking out from the open top. She slid the pages out of the legal envelope and pressed a hand over her mouth.

Emblazoned across the top in a formal serif font was a legal heading from the Supreme Court of British Columbia, and halfway down the page, in bold letters …

Certificate of Divorce. With signatures of Josh Graham and Vivian Long, side by side. Dated yesterday.

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