Page 15 of My Rules

“Forever.”

“No, I want a set time.” I think of a counteroffer. “If we haven’t gotten back together in two years, then we get a divorce.”

“Eight years.”

“No way,” I scoff. “Three years.”

“Six.”

“Four.”

“Five.” He sits back, annoyed. “Final offer: I’ll sign the house over to you, but we don’t divorce for at least five years.”

I stare at him as the idea rolls around in my head.

I really want the house.

“Take it or leave it, Rebecca.”

Five years ... is a long time.

Not that it matters, I guess. I have no intention of ever marrying again.

“Why do you want such a long time?” I ask him.

“Because I can’t lose you, Rebecca, and I need you to forgive me. We need time to heal. I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”

“But you could very easily imagine yourself in a bed without me in it ... couldn’t you?”

“I made a mistake,” he says softly. “How long are you going to throw that in my face?”

“Forever.”

“Five years.”

“I need to get some advice from my lawyer.”

“I’ll send you a schedule of the repayments and monthly costs. I’m telling you that you can’t afford it. You don’t need to do it alone; you have me.”

I never had you.

“I’ll be the judge of what I can afford.” Annoyed, I stand to cut our meeting short. “Send me the details, and I’ll let you know.”

“I love you.” He smiles hopefully up at me.

My heart sinks. I hate that he still says it to me every time we speak. I hate that the man I thought was my soulmate is nothing more than a huge disappointment.

I hate that I’m single and lonely, and damn it, I ... I hate that he ruined the perfect life I had.

“Goodbye, John.” I walk out of the restaurant and push out through the heavy glass doors into the cool air.

I put my sunglasses on and look up the street toward my car. Well, that was a disaster ...

Five years . . . fuck.

I stare at the computer screen and screw up my face. “What?”

John’s financial estimate email has come through, and I’m spending the afternoon going through the expenses.

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