Page 113 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled.

“Okay.” She flashed a smile at Dominic. “Kyle’s all pathetic looking. Let’s find someone and win your dollar back.”

Courtney Crawford stared at the divorce papers I’d handed to her, and her gaze floated down to the bottom of the page, presumably lingering on Tariq’s signature.

I hadn’t handled a lot of divorce cases. It had never been my area of focus. Too much emotion, and I didn’t know what to do when a client broke down in front of me. I’d never had a shoulder to cry on, although that was partly my fault.

My sister had been there, but we’d both been too afraid to reach out to the other one while we were growing up. Dominic had changed her, and although the concept of her working at the blindfold club would never sit easy with me, if the place hadn’t existed, they wouldn’t have found each other.

I was restless last night, thinking about Ruby so much I couldn’t sleep, and the goddamn sheets smelled like her. The alarm clock went off too early. I dragged my sorry ass into the office, hating how I felt like a mopey teenager, but the upside was both of my parents steered clear of me.

The email from Tariq’s attorney had arrived swiftly this morning, accepting all the terms I’d laid out for Courtney.

“Do you have any questions?” I asked. She had a pen clutched in her hand, but didn’t sign.

“No, I just . . . need a minute.” Her sad gaze drifted up to mine. “Is that okay?”

Her marriage was ending, and I mentally kicked myself for trying to rush her. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

“I don’t know why this is so hard. Tariq and I have been done for months. We both want this.” She seemed frustrated with herself. “But signing, it’s so . . .”

“Final,” I said.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

My lack of sleep must have gotten to me. “Can I ask a personal question?” She nodded. “When did you know it was over?”

She took in a sharp breath and her gaze flew away from mine.

Shit. “I’m sorry. Please forget I asked. It’s absolutely none of my business, and—”

“He cheated on me.” She didn’t seem upset, it was more like disappointment, which made me think she’d known about it for a while. Courtney looked at her hands clasped in her lap, but her posture was strong. Like she wasn’t defeated. “It was the second time I’d caught him. He’d been so drunk after the Minnesota game, he thought he was texting his driver. Instead, he was texting me.”

I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell her what an asshole I thought her about-to-be ex-husband was, but refrained.

“So, it’s four a.m., and I’m staring at this message about how great the random hookup my husband just had was, and you know the first thought I had?”

“He’s a son of a bitch?” It was more profane than I usually got with clients, but a tame version of what I wanted to say.

A half-smile darted across her lips, then disappeared. “No, it was, what could I have done differently? What was I not giving him that he needed?”

My mouth dropped open. She was worried about what she’d done, and not the cheating bastard?

“Want to know what my second thought was?”

“Please tell me it was that he’s a son of a bitch.”

Her smile was bigger this time. “That was my third thought. My second one was nothing was wrong with me. Tariq is who he is. He isn’t going to change, and I realized I couldn’t love the man he is. I tried.”

She laid the document down on my desk and signed beside the sticky tab pointing to the signature line. When it was done, she handed it to me, letting out a breath. A sigh of relief?

“Just my opinion,” I said, “but it doesn’t sound like he ever deserved you.”

A soft laugh bubbled out of her. “That’s what Julius keeps telling me.”

“He’s a smart guy.” I saw the opportunity and seized on it. “How’s the divorce going to affect your friendship with him?”

She contemplated for a moment. “He was Tariq’s boy before we met, but . . . I dunno. We talk a lot now. Ever since Tariq got traded and we came to Chicago, Julius has been there for me.” Was it the afternoon sunlight coming through my window that lit her eyes, or the thought of him? “He’s like my friend now.”

---