Page 83 of I'm Not Yours
Cherie leaned forward and glared at him. “Take the few brain cells in your head that are still working, and let’s figure out a deal that does not involve torturing you.”
I needed the money from the house I owned with Grayson. I needed it for the down payment for the beach house. My chest felt tight, I couldn’t breathe. I did not want to give in. I didn’t want him to win, simply because he could bully me down. I didn’t like living in a stress tornado.
But as I sat and listened to Cherie dive into full-throttle battle, I thought of the view of the waves, the seagulls, and the tide pools. I thought of all the orders I had stacked up, how I wouldprobably have to hire someone else fairly soon. I thought of my business, my baby, my creation, what had been born out of acute depression and despair, but was now flowering. I thought of the article coming out written by my new friend Virginia, she of the smacking gum. I thought of Reece.
“Give him the house.”
Cherie whipped around to me. “What?”
“Give him the house.”
Grayson was shocked, so was Walid.
“I’ll sign the papers, Grayson and Walid, you itchy creeps. Cherie, draw them up.”
“No, no, no—” Grayson started, bopping in his seat.
“No?” I wanted to throw another law book at him. “You wanted the house in Portland, you get it. That’s what you said last time. You make no claims whatsoever on June’s Lace and Flounces now or in the future and we’ll call it good and this will be done. You keep all the money in the house.”
“I—”
“You what, Grayson? You’ve ripped me off. You ripped me off in our marriage. You were a cold, deceitful, mechanical, thoughtless, critical husband and I temporarily lost my mind when I married you and I want out.”
“I can’t let you do that, sweets,” Cherie said, and I knew she was playing my game. “You have a chunk of money coming to you from your half of that house.”
“Let it go.” June’s Lace and Flounces was me. I am June.
Grayson and Walid had a whispered conversation and I muttered to Cherie, as low as possible, “I need this snake to slither on out of my life.”
And there, in that office, I felt this surge of power.
I had, financially, nothing.
I had nothing but potential and possibility.
I had nothing but a pair of green eyes that laughed into mine.
“It’s yes or no, El Monsters,” Cherie said. “Right now. Give me an hour and I’ll talk my client out of this and she’ll take half the house.”
“But I want part of the business—” Grayson whined. “She could make a mint.”
“Actually, Grayson, I will close my business down if I have to share it with you and start over. Plus, I’ll take half the money in the house and I’ll take half the money you’ve made since we separated.”
He twitched nervously. He made a lot of money, didn’t want to lose it. “I’ll make you sign a non compete so you can’t open another business.”
“You are odd and gooey and creepy,” Cherie said. “She’s not going to sign a noncompete. She didn’t even have an official business before she separated from you, El Monster. Agree to the terms, slugs. If you refuse to sign these papers, I will accidentally let slip to my friend, a reporter at the newspaper, that you were arrested by police last weekend for indecent exposure. Now, why were you wearing red underwear in that parked car?”
Grayson paled. “I could sue you for that,” he whispered.
“Red underwear?” I said, opening my eyes wide. “Oh, I remember those . . . the tight ones. The ones you wore when you were afraid of a judge.”
“Stop it, June,” Grayson said, so weak.
“Be my guest,” Cherie said. “I’ll make sure that my reporter friend knows exactly why you’re suing me. Now, tell me. How did it go over with that executive’s husband when he found out you were wrestling naked with his wife? Did she truly have on bunny ears when the police tapped on the window? Did you have the bunny tail on? Wasn’t he a client of yours?”
Grayson slunk in his chair and I felt: nothing.
I had felt nothing for so long about Grayson. No jealousy, no regrets about leaving, no nostalgia. Nothing.
