Page 23 of The Spy Ring

EIGHT

Jagger

“You’re my husband?”Tiffany’s voice rose with every syllable.

Before Henrik and David left a few minutes ago, I apologized to David for pretending to be his physical therapist. He was disheartened but more so that I wouldn’t be there to teach him ninja moves. His disappointment only intensified my own. It was fun last week showing him moves I had learned over the years. Not only that, but my heart beat with a new challenge. I was invigorated when I left our session. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rush I used to get at the climax of a large operation like bringing down a criminal organization or capturing a terrorist was better than any drug. Over the years I felt less and less satisfied, as if it wasn’t enough.

I was happy to keep this country safe, but growing increasingly unfulfilled with what I did for a living. Or was it what my job did to me?

“Technically, yes,” I said and pushed the wrinkled divorce papers toward her on the coffee table.

She didn’t reach for them. Tiffany only stared at me.

“Then we met before. When?”

“In Las Vegas. In the hotel bar where you were staying. I bought you a drink. Then came over to talk to you and Morgana.”

The sun was still high in the sky as it was mid-summer and the light reflected off her dark hair, turning some pieces golden. Tiffany was beautiful. As foolish as it was to marry her, I couldn’t blame my drunken self for so easily falling for her sweet charm and succulent lips.

Thoughts of how she tasted dotted my memories causing my tongue to reach for them. Tiffany was saying something but flickers of her naked body as she raced through the hotel room hiding her clothes kept blocking out her words.

“What?” I realized too late that Tiffany expected me to respond.

“I said, neither Morgana nor I remember that night. You were there last night. She doesn’t remember you.” She tilted her head, concern etched in her features.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her chocolate eyes widened as she pushed to the edge of the couch, gripping the seat cushion. “Did you do that on purpose? Drug us so we wouldn’t remember you?”

I sat up straight. “No, of course not. I was only observing you. Well, I was supposed to only observe you but it ended up being more than that.”

Her nose flared, causing a slight indent in her chin. The blush that filled her face produced a question in my head that I would never give voice to—is that what she would look like if I climbed her body and sunk inside?

“Then how can neither of us remember you?” Tiffany asked after she took a breath, grabbing her braid and tossing it over her shoulder.

“Weren’t you two drinking before I came over?”

“No. The drink you bought me was the first one I had that night. And it wasn’t like I had an empty stomach. Morgana and I went to the buffet for dinner. I remember because we were going to go straight to the bar after but I told her I needed to check on Evaleen, who wasn’t feeling well at the time . . . Wait, I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out.” Tiffany smiled as she shook her head.

“Figure what out?”

“That Evaleen was pregnant. Of course, now I know because she just told me. That’s why she was sick in Vegas. I thought she had the flu. And Aria knew!” She smacked her hand on the table. “That’s why Aria told me when I was concerned I would catch whatever illness Evaleen had, that I already had it. But why would Evaleen tell Aria and not anyone else?”

I threw my hands in the air. “What are you even talking about? We started on how you and Morgana couldn’t remember me and ended up discussing Aria’s feelings on Evaleen’s pregnancy.”

“Not her feelings, but how she knew.” Tiffany pursed her lips.

“Whatever. Can we get back on topic?”

“Yes, what were we talking about?”

Taking a calming breath, I was thankful to be divorcing this woman. She may be beautiful and kind and—despite my reservations with her not letting her son do more—a good mother. But, I had a feeling if I spent any time with her I would end up going mad. I had even more respect for David now, having lived with this woman.

“About both you and Morgana not remembering me,” I said before rubbing my hands in irritation across my face.

“Right. I’m going to get something. Would you like some tea or candy?” She stood up and walked past the couch and into the kitchen.

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