Page 383 of The First Time
"We signed a prenup."
"And how much would you get?"
I hold my purse against my stomach. "A lot."
Meryl raises a brow. "He won't miss whatever he offered you." She pushes herself up so she can lean closer. "It's a hard world for women. You have to use whatever you have to get yours. You're beautiful, smart, and a damn good liar."
"You really want me to lie to your son so I can divorce him and take his money?"
"It was his idea."
"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I laugh. God, this whole thing is absurd. My life was a lot easier before I met Blake, but it was a hell of a lot less interesting. "I really wish I could."
She grabs my wrist. Her eyes get serious. "Honey, you can. And you should. You two would be much happier than Fiona and Trey are."
"Probably."
"Of course, she hasn't been happy since she was Homecoming Queen." Meryl shakes her head. "My kids, my problem. They don't know what it's like to grow up with nothing. Their father did well. He spoiled them rotten. And he was insured to the hilt." Her expression softens. "They're successful. What every mom is supposed to want. God. I'm a cliché, whining about the state of my children's marriages, or lack thereof."
My stomach is twisted and torn. This confession isn't exactly freeing us. Maybe Blake was right and it was better to lie. Better to die happy believing a lie…
I study Meryl's expression, trying my best Sterling stare. Her eyes are especially yellow but they're also bright. Alive. Her lips are turned into a smile.
She is happy, considering the circumstances.
"You want the truth?" I ask.
"Of course, sweetheart."
"I'm an idiot not to marry Blake. That money could be my ticket. I could spend ten years in school and another ten traveling the world. But I won't be able to do any of it with my heart broken."
Her eyes go wide. She leans closer.
"I love Blake. I love him, and he's never going to fall in love with me. I can't live like that, constantly wanting him in a way I'll never have him. It would kill me."
"Oh, sweetie." She pats my arm. "I'm sorry."
I prepare myself to blink back a tear—this whole love thing has me in pieces—but it doesn't come. I'm too tired, too numb, too something.
"You have to take care of yourself." Meryl studies me. She pulls her arm to her side. "Do me a favor and run down to the gift shop."
"Sure."
"You have cash?"
I nod.
"Get me the trashiest romance novel you can find. And get yourself a cup of coffee. You look like hell."
A laugh escapes my lips. "You got it."
"Blake would take great care of you," she says.
"He would." But it's not enough.
* * *
I buyMeryl one copy of each romance in here—there are only three—and buy myself a can of iced coffee.
