Page 30 of Hate the One You're With
“We haven’t finalized this agreement,” I protest, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “You have to sign.”
“That’s what e-signatures are for, Caleb. You can always send a courier to my office with the papers. I appreciate you agreeing. I’ll give you what you requested. I’m heading home since there’s a lot I have to do before moving to Grandma’s place,” she says with finality.
“I’ll have someone do an inventory of your property this Friday to make sure everything is included in the documents you have to sign,” I reply, determined to keep control. “And I’ll need the Bentley by then.”
“The Bentley?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Yep, as a sign of good faith,” I say, enjoying the upper hand.
“You wantthe Bentley?” She laughs, the sound disbelieving. “How do you even know aboutthe Bentley?”
“It’s in your grandma’s will. She’s leaving it to you.”
“But you want it?” she asks, her tone shifting as if she’s ready to fight me for it.
“Yep,” I say, standing my ground.
She sighs, and I can almost see her shaking her head in defeat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. How old is it?” I ask, curious now, maybe the thing isn’t running anymore.
“Fairly new,” she admits. “Youngish . . . three years probably.”
“Who wouldn’t want a three-year-old Bentley?” I ask, surprised by her reluctance. She’s always been into luxury cars—why is she being so dense about this?
“Me, I wouldn’t want it,” she responds and I can see she’s using reverse psychology.
“If you’re trying to talk me out of it—” I start.
“I wouldn’t dare,” she interrupts.
“Then you’ll have it ready for me by Friday?”
“Why don’t you get your paperwork ready sooner than tomorrow if you can, and I’ll havethe Bentleyready for you then,” she says, her voice calm and composed.
If she’s trying to use reverse psychology, she’s wasting her time. The Bentley is mine, and I won’t share it with her. Let’s see who has the last laugh.
Chapter Nineteen
Emmersyn
Since I hadnothing to do in Boston, I flew back to New York. Jane, ever-efficient, already had a few apartments lined up for me to check out before six o’clock. They’re spacious enough to fit most of my furniture, but not so expensive that I couldn’t afford them after the first year. The one I liked the most is close to the Hudson River, with just enough charm to make me feel a bit better aboutthis whole mess.
The next morning, I’m signing the lease agreement and paying eighteen months of rent upfront, plus a deposit. With the Bentley off my plate, I don’t have to worry about the apartment amenities anymore. Ah, the perks of being married to a greedy asshole. I guess I’m more like my mother than I’d care to admit—we both chose the wrong man.
Not that I had much of a choice. It was either Caleb Cunningham or one of those trust fund idiots who are grandsons of my grandmother’s friends.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I chose wisely. Either way, it was a Sophie’s Choice situation. I’d have been fucked no matter what—and not in the fun way.
I should be free in six months from everything and probably everyone. The movers are already packing my things. Some of my stuff will be going to my grandmother’s. The rest are heading to the new apartment. Caleb decided not to do the inventory until he was at the penthouse.
It’s leased under Jane’s name and there’s no way he’ll know about it so . . . he can’t go and try to take my collection of keychains or any of the things I value. I mean, he’s so petty he wants the Bentley just to fuck with me. And the idiot thought I was going to fight forthe Bentley. He can have it. I can’t wait to see him enjoy his new property.
I catch myself laughing out loud, the kind of laugh that bubbles up unexpectedly and feels almost out of place in the middle of moving boxes and chaos. One of the movers glances over, eyebrows raised, clearly wondering if I’m okay.
I quickly compose myself, waving him off with a grin. “Yeah, just . . . new life, new everything, you know?” I offer as an excuse, trying to stifle the giggles. Normally, I’d beembarrassed, but honestly, I can’t bring myself to care. Caleb might be plotting to make my life a living hell, but he doesn’t know I’ve got a few aces up my sleeve.
As I watch the mover nod and return to his work, a little thrill of satisfaction runs through me. Sure, things might get messy, but I’m ready. Caleb might think he’s holding all the cards, but he’s about to find out that I’ve got a hand of my own to play. Like I told Clarissa, this time I’m older, and I can hold my own.
