Page 4 of Sins of a Husband

“Unfortunately, we must make some cuts in our property law division.”

“Cuts?” My brows furrow.

He must have sensed the panic on my face.

“Don’t worry. You’re too valuable to let go. Effective tomorrow, you’ll be moved to family law, mainly handling divorce cases. How does that sound?” He leans back in his chair.

“Well…I…fine, I guess. Is that why you asked me a couple of months ago if I kept up with the latest family laws?”

“Yes.” He points at me. “Smart woman. Anyway, I think you’d excel in family law.” He glances at his watch. “I know you must be out of here by four-thirty, so I want you to finish what you’re working on and then pack your office. You’re moving up to the tenth floor—a corner office with an excellent city view.”

“Wow, Carter. I don’t know what to say?”

“Thank you will do.” He smiles.

“Thank you.” I stand, smoothing out my skirt.

“Happy Anniversary, Kat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Carter.”

After finishing my case, I started packing my office with the boxes maintenance brought. When I was finished packing, I called Stuart, the head of maintenance, and told him to move my things to the tenth floor.

Just as I arrive home, my phone pings in my purse. When I pull it out, I find a text message from Oliver.

Stuck in a terrible meeting trying to avert a crisis. Unfortunately, I’m not going to make it home in time. I’ll meet you at Daniel at six o’clock.

Disappointment washes over me.I love it when we drive together for dinner. But my disappointment quickly evaporates because nothing can ruin this day.

That’s fine. I’ll see you at the restaurant. I love you.

I love you too, darling.

I touch up my makeup to give my blue eyes a smoky evening look and dust my cheeks with a little more blush in Petal Pink. After dabbing my lips with Charlotte Tilbury’s Pillow Talk lipstick, I brush through my long brown hair, spritzing the ends with texture spray to help maintain the subtle waves.

I go to the closet and pull out the new dress I picked up at Bloomingdales a month ago—black, square neckline, long sleeves with contrast bell detail, fitted and sophisticated, stopping an inch above my knees. I slip my feet into my three-inch heel, tall, black boots that make me three inches taller than my existing five-foot-six stature.

I enter Daniel, and Karla, the hostess, smiles enthusiastically.

“Good evening, Mrs. Tate.”

“Good evening, Karla. Is my husband here yet?”

“Not yet, but we do have your table ready. Follow me.”

She sits me at a private table in the corner and sets two menus down.

“Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thank you.” I pleasantly smile.

I glance at my watch. It’s six-fifteen. Where the hell is Oliver?

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he speaks breathlessly, leaning in and kissing my cheek.

My brows furrow at the smell of perfume radiating off him.

“Do I need to be concerned that you’re fifteen minutes late and smell like you’ve been with a woman?” My brow arches.

---