Page 59 of Rebound

He nods, staring at me intensely. “Yeah. I can’t think of any other explanation. I wish I could, for your sake. I know you wanted this to end differently and that you still have feelings for her.”

“Feelings?” I echo. The word is wholly inadequate. “Feelings?I have loved that woman for over twenty years, Nathan. You do know what love is, don’t you?”

Hurt and angry, I can’t help lashing out, and I don’t give a damn.

“Yeah, dickhead, I know what love is,” he snaps back.

“Maybe you do now, Nathan, but you didn’t back then. When I brought Amber home, you made zero effort with her. And then after Mom died, you really drank Dad’s Kool-Aid—that whole ‘never fall in love’ bullshit he fed us. You saw love as a sign of weakness. Do you ever wonder if that’s part of why it took you so long to find someone?”

“So what if it is? It doesn’t make me wrong about this. No, I don’t like Amber, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Like I said, I wish I were wrong. I really do. I’m sorry, Elijah. I am so goddamn sorry. But she’s planning to destroy you.”

It’s the genuine sympathy that undoes me. It’s in his eyes and his voice, clear as day. This has been hard for him, and he didn’t do it out of spite or because he doesn’t understand what love is. He did it because he loves me.

“Okay,” I say quietly. “I hear you. I… Damn it, I believe you. I just don’t want to.” I sound as broken as I feel.

He comes around to my side of the desk. “Get up, you asshole. How am I going to hug you if you’re all the way down there?”

I do as he says. He wraps me up in a bear hug, and we slap each other on the backs once it’s done. I don’t feel awkward—I am one of life’s huggers—but I am eager for him to leave. I need to be alone with this for a while.

“Get home to Mel and Luke,” I say firmly. “And thank you.”

“What are you gonna do?” he asks. If he had his way, there’d probably be flaming torches and pitchforks involved.

“I don’t know yet.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand to silence him. “Nope. Don’t. Leave it with me for now.”

Something in my voice or my expression must convince him I mean it, because he gives me a nod and a final pat on the shoulder and leaves.

I sit back down, my legs weak and my heart heavy. First of all, I pick up the phone and call the firm of Kemp, Michaelson, and Chambers. I do not doubt that my brother saw what he says he saw. He might despise Amber, but he wouldn’t lie about something like this. He has too much integrity, and he knows the damage it would cause. But before I do anything else, I need to be absolutely sure.

Once I explain who is calling, I’m put through to Freddie straight away. “Elijah James.” There’s an edge to his voice, but he doesn’t seem at all shocked to hear from me. It’s almost like he was expecting my call. “I thought I might hear from you. I can explain.”

“Explain what?” I keep my tone even and polite. There is nothing to be gained at this point by antagonizing him. He doesn’t really need to explain why he’s taken on my wife’s case, although I guess it might be awkward socially as we run in some of the same circles. I’m surprised that bothers him, but Freddie always was on the unpredictable side.

It takes him a while to reply, and there is a hesitant note in his voice when he does. “Anything you like. What can I do for you, big man?”

“Well, for a start, you can tell me if you’re representing my wife in our divorce proceedings.”

There’s a pause, and then he lets out a delighted cackle. “Well, Elijah, you know I couldn’t possibly tell you if I was—I’d be bound by client confidentiality, would I not? But between you and me, because we’re friends, your lovely wife did pay me a visit earlier today. We talked over a few things in my office. That’s really all I can say on the matter. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.”

He sounds unbearably smug, and I’d dearly love to punch his lights out. Instead, I take a deep breath. “Thank you Freddie. I appreciate that.”

After hanging up, I scrub my face with my hands. They come away damp. I am a forty-two-year-old man sitting in his goddamn office, crying because his wife lied to him.

No, she didn’t just lie to me—she has, like Nathan said, played me for a fool. I should have known. I’ve always said the woman could win an Oscar. She pretended to want a nice, civilized divorce. She even pretended there was hope for us, presumably to keep me distracted and softened up. Fuck, and it worked all too well. All I’ve thought about for the last day is how I can win her back. Apparently, all she’s thought about is how much Freddie Kemp can take from me.

My hands tremble as I pour myself a Scotch. Could it all have been a lie? The sex, our connection? The love? I bite my lip and taste blood.

It must have been a lie. Freddie Kemp confirmed it. It was a sweet, sultry lie—one I fell for hook, line, and sinker. She told me what I wanted to hear. She baited me and reeled me in. I am a fucking idiot. A fucking idiot with a broken heart.

I take the burner phone from my pocket and put it on the floor. Channeling all my anger and heartbreak, I power it through my body and slam my foot down, smashing the sole of my shoe onto the screen and grinding it to pieces with my heel.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith are over.

ChapterTwenty-Six

AMBER

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