Page 101 of Hook Up

Now, you’re on top of the world again, and I’d like to think I played some small role in that. After all, I wouldn’t let you quit. Sometimes, stubbornness pays off.

Thank you for showing me how to love. Deep down, I always knew it would be you who could unlock my heart, and you’ll forever hold it.

Be safe, my prince.

All my love,

Gigi

“Ryder,” a voice booms out from the phone. “Did you butt dial me?”

Grabbing up my phone, I realize with a start that I never ended the call to Francine. “Sorry, I—”

“Are you okay?”

The paper slips from my fingers, drifting back to the mattress as my mind attempts to comprehend what’s happened. Am I okay? Not even remotely close. “Greer left me.” I’m not sure why I’m disclosing this news to Francine. We aren’t terribly close, but right now, my shock outweighs any need for discretion.

I expect words of comfort, but I’m met with silence.

“Francine, are you there?”

“I’m here, Ryder, and I’m sorry it came to this, but what did you expect to happen? You refused to publicly acknowledge her as your wife and then you gallivant with some random bimbos at the club.”

“Whose side are you on?” I bellow, my anger careening into the red.

“You don’t want to know.” Francine releases a loud sigh into the receiver. “I’m simply offering you a different perspective. You didn’t notice Greer’s face that day when you called off your announcement, but I did. You devastated her, but she kept quiet. Tried to be supportive. I promised her you would make it home for the dinner she had planned, the one you swore you wouldn’t be late for, but then I find out the next morning that the guys took you out to get shit-faced.”

“We were celebrating.” I bite out the words, unable to fathom that Francine is siding with Greer.

“Wasn’t that what the dinner was supposed to be? A celebration of your recovery with the woman who took care of you these last couple of months? A great way to thank her, Ryder. Blowing her off in lieu of dancing the night away with other women. I won’t tell you that your behavior is acceptable, because it isn’t, although I hope you can patch things up. Greer seems like a very kind woman, from the few moments we spent together. She deserved better than what got from you.”

“A kind woman who left me a Dear John letter and snuck out in the middle of the night. She’s a real winner, Francine.” I click off the call, unable to listen to her—my hired help—tout Greer’s attributes.

Time to find a new publicist.

My anger carries me through the next couple of days. That, and a few glasses of whiskey. For a brief moment, I consider calling one of my former bed buddies, but I can’t stomach the idea of sleeping with another woman.

Greg arrives this afternoon, but first, I have to meet with Mr. Givens. He called yesterday, with an urgent request that we sit down for a serious chat. No doubt he’ll have some choice words for me and my current financial predicament.

Strolling into the granite building, I throw up a wave to his receptionist before heading back to his office.

Mr. Givens, Marty to his friends, glances up from his coffee, motioning to a chair. “Have a seat. How are you feeling?”

“I can see, but my wife left me.”

“I know.” He clears his throat, sliding some paperwork across the desk. “Greer asked me to draw up annulment papers.”

My breath catches at his words as the severity of the situation settles over me. This isn’t some passing grievance or tantrum. Greer is serious. And because I didn’t sign a prenup, I’m now in serious trouble. “She askedmylawyer to draft annulment papers? That’s fantastic. How good of her,” I hiss, unable to control my rising fury. “Can’t wait to see her list of demands. How much is she asking for?”

“Nothing.”

My head flies up at his reply, and I snatch the papers, scanning over them. “Nothing?”

“No alimony, no payout, no claim to any real estate or cars. Nothing.” He shifts back in his chair, studying me. “Trust me, Greer didn’t want me to draw up the agreement, but she couldn’t afford an attorney. Asked if I might consider the request as a favor. She thought I might help this go away quietly for you, so you would never have to let the world know you were married. I must admit I pegged her all wrong. She was never after your money.”

Just like that, the anger slides away, and the grief takes hold. Dropping my head into my hands, I realize I’m more blind now than I was before. Suddenly, it’s so clear. All Gigi wanted was reassurance she had a place in my life. In my world.

What did I do? Showed her all the ways she didn’t. Inadvertently playing on her fears of abandonment by leaving her alone when she needed me most. In the last couple of months, she never asked for anything except my love. But in my rush to reclaim my former glory, I forgot about the one woman who ensured I got there.

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