Page 96 of Legally Mine

Chapter 22

By the time I reached my tiny apartment, the buzz of alcohol had completely worn off, but the heady feeling of the evening hadn't. I sent Brandon a quick text to let him know I was home and that I'd talk to him tomorrow.

But after I pulled off the ridiculous dress, I took one glance at my small space and knew I couldn't stay there. I had two choices: I could roam the city at night by myself and have even more to drink (which probably wasn't the best idea). Or I could take this adrenaline and use it productively.

I grabbed my gym bag and chose the latter.

It was well after midnight when I swam my last lap at my gym, which was thankfully open all night. Only diehard gym rats were in the building; I was the only one in the three-lane pool.

All vestiges of alcohol had evaporated. I could see the evening for what it was: a medium-sized disaster, but not necessarily one I had to flip out about. There would definitely be fallout, but I intended to make sure that Brandon listened to Kieran from now on. I was done being humiliated by his ex-wife.

I finished my last flip-turn and soared through the water, making it halfway down the twenty-five-meters before I surfaced for air. There was someone standing at the end of my lane––likely one of the gym staff sent to kick me out of the pool for the night. I swam quickly to the end, pushing myself until my muscles started to shake. I reached for the concrete edge with my final stroke and pulled myself up to catch my breath.

I pushed my goggles over my swim cap, and it was then I got a look at the shiny black oxfords in front of me. Definitely not the sneakers of your average gym attendant. I yanked my cap and goggles completely off and looked up.

Brandon towered above me, broad shoulders still looking indecently handsome in the all-black shirt and embroidered vest. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and the black bow tie lay loose on either side of his collar. His jacket was gone, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. His hair was mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it too much, gold waves in haphazard pieces around his forehead. The wavering reflection of the pool water cast deep shadows under the strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms.

"Having a nice swim?"

He squatted down so our faces were only a foot or so apart, close enough that I could see the slight perspiration on his forehead from standing in the humid pool room. His eyes glowed bright like tiger's, despite their brilliant blue, but the faint lines over his brow told me he was tired.

I bit my lip, treading water. "It was all right. How did you know I was here?"

Brandon sighed, his features unreadable. "You didn't answer your phone after you texted me, so I went to your place. Eric told me where you went."

I blanched. "You woke up Eric?" He couldn't have liked that.

Brandon sighed and rocked back and forth on his heels. "I'm his boss. He was happy to accommodate."

I pulled my damp hair out of its bun, happy to relieve the weight. It fell in thick ropes around my shoulders, causing water to trail over my skin. It was a far cry from my earlier, more glamorous look. My face was bare, wet, and likely had goggle marks around my eyes. My sport bikini wasn't the skimpiest of suits, but the rough intake of Brandon's breath told me it was alluring enough. He looked like he wanted to eat me.

Good, I thought. Fair's fair.

Finally, Brandon blew out a long sigh. "Why did you leave?"

I cocked my head in disbelief. "Come on. Staying wasn't an option."

"I got that. But why didn't you wait for me?"

I pressed off the ledge with my feet, but kept my grip on the concrete, arms straight while the water swished around me. Without moving, I should have been cold, but Brandon's presence lit a fire inside me.

"I had some things to think about, and you were busy." I looked up. "I'm not at your beck and call, you know."

Brandon exhaled heavily through his nostrils and rocked backward onto his heels again. "No one thinks that, Skylar."

"It sure felt that way tonight," I said. "Sitting around waiting for you for two hours, put in a corner like inconvenient arm candy, then forced to flee when your wife busts in."

"You didn't need to run off like that. You knew I'd come back for you. Come on, Skylar."

"I didn't run off," I corrected him, even though I literally did run. "I told you I was going, and then I told you I was home and I'd talk to you later."

"Well, it's not like you have the best track record of following through on those kinds of promises."

His words were almost as bitter as mine, and I flinched, thinking of when I'd left him, still in my bed, to run away to Brooklyn after I'd discovered his divorce papers. He had a point, but he also wasn't the one who had to accept all of this somewhat passively. I wasn't planning to leave him again, but it was still a lot to take. Especially tonight.

We stared at each other, bristling and irritated. Finally, eager to break the stare-off, I pushed off the wall with my feet to float on my back. I stretched toward the opposite end of the pool, arching in a way that made my breasts peak toward the ceiling, then flipped backward until I popped up again through the water. When I surfaced, Brandon was watching intently, a different kind of fire in his ice-blue eyes. Did he wanted to strangle me or eat me alive? It was hard to tell the difference.

---