Page 20 of Fire
I know all of this. It is exactly the same shit that has been racing through my mind ever since I left Zander’s yesterday.
But what the hell else am I supposed to do?
Zander is my best friend, and he wants to protect his family. I can’t fault him for that.
“Well, it’s either that or risk the potential fallout of having to delay the tour because, as rich as Zander is, I don’t think any of them want to incur those costs. So which one is worse?”
She leans over the counter on the other side of the kitchen island, holding her coffee mug tightly in her hands. I can tell the gears in her head are turning. Finally, she says, “You could check with Cash tonight at family dinner.”
“Why?”
“I think his best friend from college is a doctor. He might know someone.”
“I hate asking Cash for favors.”
She shrugs. “I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas. It’s not like you happen to know of any doctors, do you?”
“Right, yeah.” I scoff. Everyone I know is either a musician or…
A flash of dark hair and a pair of chocolate-brown eyes flashed through my mind, and suddenly, I’m struck with an idea.A really bad, but possibly good idea. “Actually, I just might know the perfect person.”
Chapter Eight
ZARA
If there were a guidebook to divorce, I’m pretty sure there would be a whole chapter dedicated to why you absolutelyshould notwork with your ex.
We are barely a week into this, and I already want to kill him.
When I filed for divorce, I didn’t ask for anything. We had a pretty straightforward prenup, but my lawyer said I could try to push back and get more. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want any of it. Not the house nor the business. Not even that plush ivory chaise I loved so much. I was so devastated and so damn angry that the life I’d built with this man was just considered such a waste of time to him that I didn’t want a single reminder when I walked away.
I just wanted to forget.
But, of course, Tanner’s male pride wouldn’t allow for that. I thought he’d be happy about the prospect of a divorce and the fact that I was being so agreeable and civil about the whole thing. But, once again, I found myself surprised and a bit taken aback when he chose to be offended instead.
“What else was I supposed to do, Tanner?” I shout as I pace back and forth across the living room. He had angrily tossed the manila envelope he was served in my face the moment I returned home from the gym.
“What do you mean, what were you supposed to do? Maybe not blindside me with a fucking divorce, Zara. That’s a start.”
I scoff. “Blindside you? Are you serious? You made it clear you weren’t happy. Has that changed?”
“Well, no, but?—”
“But what, Tanner?”
He hesitates. Looks away. “This looks bad.”
“We aren’t living in the nineteenth century, Tanner. People get divorced all the time.” But then he finally looks at me, and I understand the full meaning behind his words. “Oh, you mean this looks bad foryou? Because your parents didn’t get a chance to get ahead of this first. Because if it comes out that I filed the divorce papers—a ‘regular person,’ as you so eloquently put it—you’ll be embarrassed.”
He doesn’t deny it.
“You know what, Tanner? Tell people whatever you want,” I snap, picking up the papers once again. I hand them over. “Whatever makesyouhappy. After all, that’s all that matters, right?”
When his parents did find out, they entered what they called “damage control” mode.
For nearly six months, I reluctantly agreed to live under the same roof with my soon-to-be ex while they worked out the particulars of our divorce. I moved into a guest bedroom, and we only spoke when absolutely necessary, which was pretty much at work, leaving me in a constant state of limbo.
During those six months, I started to look back on my marriage, and I didn’t like what I saw.
