Page 16 of Better Daddy
By the time I asked for a divorce, I resented Sully so much that I pictured murdering him at least once a day.
Can’t spell marriage without murder. Is that a saying? It should be.
As I get situated in the driver’s seat, I giggle at my little joke. When I catch sight of myself in the rearview mirror, I jolt, because I haven’t seen that kind of smile in a long, long time.
It shouldn’t be weird to see my own smile.That’swhy we’re getting a divorce.
And this is exactly how I’ll combat falling for Sully again. Every time a good memory floats through my mind, I’ll remind myself of the reasons I asked for the divorce in the first place. I’ll force myself to think of any given day over the last six years. I have to, because living with Sully—this new version of him, where he’s actuallytrying—will make it hard to remember all the bullshit I’ve put up with.
He’s incredibly charming, hence the baby in my belly right now. But I can’t forget. I can’t gloss over the years where I was nothing but an afterthought, another line item on his long, long to-do list.
Meet with clients. Check. Review complaint and service. Check. Have dinner with wife. Check.
I won’t do it again. Ican’t.
I’m busy repeating that mantra when the light ahead turns yellow, then, too quickly, red. Reflexively, I slam on my brakes. My tea sloshes over the top of the cup, and in an effort to save my baby and the sensitive skin of my belly from being scalded, I holy my hand away from my body.
Of course, that move ensures the entirety of the mug spills all over the center console.
Dammit.
With a ragged sigh, I toss the mug on the passenger seat since the handle won’t allow it to fit in the cupholder. The phrase etched onto it, the one telling me I’m the best mama, taunts me as I search the console for napkins. It doesn’t feel like I’m the best at anything lately. Not being a mother, certainly not a wife, and definitely not as a lawyer. No matter what I do, I’m failing at something. It’s only eight a.m. and I’m already exhausted.
The tea seeps through my suit, confirming my fear. I didn’t make it unscathed. Fortunately, the liquid isn’t hot enough to burn like I worried it would be. A quick glance down, though, confirms that my white silk top is tinted a light greenish brown. Dammit. I don’t have time to go back home and I don’t have anything else to put on.
A car beeps behind me, and I look up to see the light has turned green.
I hold up a hand to apologize and accelerate slowly. By the time I’ve parked in the garage attached to the building that houses Higgins, Smith, and Dodge, I’ve resigned myself to running to thebathroom and blotting at the spot. It’s the best option I have. It’ll have time to air dry before court.
I think.
Fuck.
Once I’ve collected my things, I scurry to the elevator and head up to our floor. When the doors open to the office, Will is standing five feet away, waiting.
He hasn’t changed since law school. While Sully hair is threaded with gray, Will’s is just as dark as it was twenty years ago. I’m sure Sully would say it’s because Will’s never had a wife or kids to stress him out.
He wears it slicked back, and today, there isn’t a hair out of place. His bespoke charcoal gray suit complements a body far more toned than it was during our days at Columbia. That’s one thing that has changed since law school; Will somehow got better-looking.
He smirks at me now. Or smolders, maybe, his eyes eating me up. With my purse in front of me, he can’t see the stain on my shirt, but with the way he’s checking out my legs, I’m not sure he would have noticed anyway. I’ve always had nice legs. Though my middle never returned to normal after my pregnancy, my legs give me an edge. They make me feel sexy.
It’s empowering, knowing I can affect a man like this. I have no interest in Will, and I never have. Even so, I like his eyes on me. When I’m the object of attention like this, I don’t feel like a single mom who’s failing at life. I feel like a desirable woman.
I drop my purse and nod. “Let me grab the file from my office and then we can head to court.”
Will’s eyes narrow on my breasts.
Okay, I may have liked the look of appreciation a minute ago, but his scrutiny is a bit too intense. Shoulders rounding, I curl in on myself a fraction, hoping that’ll deter him from staring.
“Why are you wet?” He drags his focus up to my face.
My stomach sinks. “Um, spilled tea in the car. I’ll get cleaned up quickly, and then we’ll go.”
With a sigh, he checks his watch. “There’s no time for that. As it is, you’re late.”
The words are matter-of-fact. If I were a twenty-five-year-old male associate who’d just started at the firm, he’d be berating me. And I’d deserve it, to be honest. But we have a history, and because of that, he rarely treats me like the lowly associate I am.
Thank God for that, because if he yelled, I’d probably cry. And then I’d hate myself. Damn pregnancy hormones.
