Page 29 of The Butcher

“Fleur?”

My eyes lifted because they’d sunk to the floor. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Linda said. “This is difficult.”

“How did you fuck her?” I lifted my chin and looked at him.

He stilled at the question, like he couldn’t believe I asked that. “Fleur…”

“Did you throw her on the bed? Did you grab her by the hair? Did you come inside her?”

Adrien looked shocked by the questions. “I—I don’t think the details matter.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” I said. “Because if it was the best sex of your life, then it would make sense.”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, Fleur.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because you aren’t mine.”

Even Linda’s eyebrows lifted at that statement.

Because we had an audience, Adrien hid the anger he would normally show. He had to bottle it and swallow whatever he would have said.

I turned to Linda. “Did you pick those yourself?”

It took her a moment to understand that I referred to the roses on the corner of her desk. “I saw you admire those. Yes, I have a small garden on my terrace. Do you like to garden, Fleur?”

“No.”

Linda grabbed the small vase in her hands and rose to her feet to bring it to me. “How about you keep this—” A bit of water swished over the top and streaked down the side of the vase and over her hand. It made the surface slippery, and the vase fumbled out of her hands and smashed to the floor, pieces of glass flying everywhere, mixed in the pool of water and rose petals. “Oh dear, I’m so clumsy.”

Adrien immediately went to her aid. “Let me help you. Do you have a broom?”

“Yes, in the closet,” Linda said.

I just sat there and stared at the broken glass. A piece had landed next to my shoe—and another clear across the room in the opposite corner.

Linda picked up the large pieces and set them on her desk while Adrien swept with the broom, getting most of the shards into the pan. They worked together, neither seeming to care that I didn’t bother to get up and help.

When Adrien was finished, he dumped the glass into the garbage can. “I think I got it all.”

My eyes went to the piece in the corner and then the one right by my shoe.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” Linda said. “Sometimes I forget I’m not as quick as I used to be.” She returned to her seat behind the desk.

Adrien smoothed out the front of his shirt and retook his seat.

The commotion died down, and it turned quiet once more.

My eyes remained on the glass in the corner, the piece that wouldn’t be noticed for a while—until Linda stepped on it and heard it crunch under her shoe.

“Now, where were we?” Linda said.

My eyes finally left the glass, and I looked at the woman who’d barely gotten a chance to know us, whose work was done before I even walked in the door. “I want a divorce.”

Linda stilled at my statement, and then her eyes flicked to Adrien.

He cleared his throat. “Fleur?—”

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