Page 43 of I Wanna Dance

“That guy is so gone for you,” Alana cut me off. “I doubt he’d do more than kiss your feet…or other parts of your body.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t even know what happened,” I confessed. “We argued, and he called me spineless and told me to get back to him when I found my courage.”

“Huh?”

I sighed. “Can we just go through the Freeman case file, please?”

Alana cut me some slack and after work, insisted that we go for a drink. I knew she was planning on pumping me for information—but I needed a drink, and the truth was that I wanted to spill my guts so someone could help me understand how I’d messed up the best relationship of my life.

That was how I ended up at Leon’s Full Service, a cozy Decatur bar with exposed brick walls and an eclectic menu of craft cocktails and late-night bites with two fingers of Ardbeg 10, neat.

“Ladies.”

You’ve got to be kidding me! My ex was showing up everywhere. He was like a puss-filled boil that wouldn’t quit, and I had had it up to fucking here!

“Christ!” Alana muttered.

My stomach churned as I thought about what he’d said to Marco. Really, he thought I’d still sleep with him. In which universe did he think I’d do that? The moment he told me he’d been having an affair, and I knew that wasn’t the first time even though he swore up and down it was, I’d walked away at a very severe personal cost. Someone with that kind of integrity would not be going back to sloppy seconds.

“Well, if it isn’t Atlanta’s Divorce Lawyer of the Year.” Kevin’s voice oozed with mockery.

“And if it isn’t the city’s worst ex-husband,” Alana remarked.

“Oh, you brought your Pitbull along.”

Did he just call my paralegal a bitch? Asshole!

I raised my glass in a mock toast. “I don’t think she’s the one you should be worried about. My bite is worse than my bark.”

Alana giggled, and Kevin looked like I’d slapped him. Oh, yeah, for years, I’d been his bitch, but not any longer.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” he crooned. “Dumped your ass did he?”

My answer to that, truthfully, wasit’s complicated. But I wasn’t giving him that satisfaction.

“Why would he do that?” I asked, feigning innocence, and then because I was out of fucks, I raised my voice, “Was it because you told him I was still having sex with you?”

He gaped at me as some people chuckled, and the whispers around us intensified. Lawyers and judges frequented this bar because it was close to court. Plenty of people knew both Kevin and me.

“You think I’d go anywhere near your infected dick?” I demanded casually and took a leisurely sip of my whiskey.

“You tell him, lady,” someone slurred.

“You’re gagging for my dick.” Kevin got into my personal space. “You think I don’t know what that Marco dude is? Your rebound.”

“We got divorced five years and four of your bimbos ago, Kevin; you really think this is the first man I’ve been with?” I picked up the glass of water the waiter had given me and brought it close to his face. “Step the fuck back, or I will throw this at you.”

I didn’t want to waste good Scotch on this asshole.

He, thankfully, stepped back, but he unfortunately didn’t go too far. He now had to save face, didn’t he? I’d showed him up, and he needed to gain that ground back, which meant he’d come after me. He knew how to push my buttons, yes, but I knew him just as well, probably better since he did the talking and I the listening in our marriage.

“Your own kids think you’re a failure, you think you can keep a man like that?”

Okay, so that hit hard.

“Marco isn’t my kid. Unlike you, he’s a fully grown man,” I threw back at him. A few women chuckled. Someone clapped.

Kevin clenched his jaw. “The only reason Davis and Presley are even talking to you is because I told them to.”

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