Page 13 of My Rules

I turn my head. “Don’t kiss me, and you’re late.”

“Apologies.” He sits down in the chair opposite me. His eyes hold mine. “You look good, Rebecca.”

Don’t even . . .

“Why haven’t you replied to my lawyer?” I ask.

He casually pours himself a glass of water from the jug. “Because my relationship isn’t with your lawyer.”

“It is now.”

“No.” He takes a sip. “It isn’t.” He opens the menu and peruses the choices. “What are you having?”

“I’m not eating.”

“Aren’t we meeting for lunch?”

“No. We’re meeting because you won’t answer my lawyer’s calls.”

“The answer is no,” he snaps.

“You cannot stop me from divorcing you,” I whisper angrily.

“We’re not getting divorced; we are going to get through this.” He casually sips his water. “All couples go through a rough patch. When we come out the other side of this, we are going to be more in love with each other than ever.”

“You were sleeping with another woman for eighteen months. This is a little more than a rough patch, John.”

“I was having a midlife crisis,” he whispers. “I made a mistake.”

“That I will never get over. I want a divorce.”

“No.”

“We’ve been separated for over twelve months, and we are not coming back from this. Ever.”

His eyes hold mine, and he circles his pointer finger over the tablecloth. “Why do you want a divorce so badly?”

“I just do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like living in a house that you pay for. I want this finalized so I can pay my own way and look after myself. While I live in a house that you pay for, I’m in limbo.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs. “What the hell can you afford?”

I open my mouth to say something nasty but close it again before I do.

Stay civil until he agrees to my terms.

“I want the house in the settlement, and you can keep everything else.”

His eyes hold mine. “No. You can have the ski lodge in Aspen.”

“I don’t want the ski lodge. I don’t even ski.”

“You can have the Manhattan apartment.”

“No, you like the city; you keep it. I want to stay on Kingston Lane.”

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