“And then he leaned in. Slowly. Giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t want to pull away. I met him halfway. My eyes closed. And for this one perfect moment, I thought… I thought maybe I could do this.”
I set down my wine glass because my hands are shaking. “But then these teenagers burst into the gallery, laughing. And the moment shattered. And suddenly all I could feel was this panic rising in my chest like I was drowning.”
“Panic?”
“I had this voice in my head saying, ‘You’re being an idiot. You barely know him. What if he’s just like Preston? What if this is all an act?’” I look at Nico, my eyes stinging. “I told him I wasn’t ready. And he just… he said he understood. That he’d wait. And then we sat there and he held my hand.”
When I finish, Nico is quiet for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful. Then she says, “Okay. So here’s what I know.”
“You checked him out, didn’t you?” I interrupt, and it’s not really a question.
“After you told me about him? Of course, I did.” She shrugs unapologetically. “No criminal record. No angry exes. Solid family. Clean financial history. Industry gossip says he’s professional and keeps to himself. The worst thing anyone has ever said about him is that he’s ‘a little boring.’”
I let out a shaky breath. Part of me is relieved. Part of me is still terrified.
“That’s what scares me,” I finally admit. “He seems perfect. And the last time I met a man who seemed perfect, I ended up married to Preston.”
“Preston wasn’t perfect,” Nico says sharply. “Preston was a con artist who told you what you wanted to hear. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I stand up and start pacing. “What if I’m just doing this again? What if I’m so desperate to feel something good that I’m ignoring red flags? What if six months from now I find out he’s been lying about everything?”
Nico is quiet for a moment. Then she asks, “Has Wyatt lied to you?”
The question stops me cold. “What?”
“Has he lied to you? About anything?”
I think back. To the bookstore. To the café, when I confronted him about stalking me after finding the note I left behind. “No,” I say slowly. “He’s been… honest. Painfully honest.”
“And Preston?”
“Preston lied about everything from day one.” The truth of it settles in my chest. “He pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Wyatt’s not pretending to be anything. Not really. He told me straight up that modeling is just a paycheck. That photography is what he really wants.”
“So the problem isn’t that he’s lying to you,” Nico says gently. “The problem is you’re scared to trust your own judgment again.”
The words cut through all my defenses. Because she’s right.
Nico pulls me back down onto the couch. “Look, the divorce is filed. You walked away from that marriage the day you left, and Preston’s lawyers are scrambling to settle. You’re getting divorced, Snow. The only thing left is paperwork and signatures.” She squeezes my hand. “And for what it’s worth? You waited until after you filed to even consider dating someone. Preston was cheating for God knows how long while you were still trying to make the marriage work. You don’t owe him loyalty to a marriage that’s already dead.”
She pauses. “You’re not making any life-altering decisions here. You’re just seeing where this goes with a guy who, by the way, respected your boundaries when you said you weren’t ready. Preston never respected a boundary in his life.”
“Speaking of Preston,” I say, grateful for the change of subject. “Has he tried anything since you quit? Since the confrontation at the house?”
Nico’s smile is pure satisfaction. “Radio silence. Complete and total radio silence. I think we broke him.”
“Patricia called yesterday,” I say. “His lawyers sent over a settlement offer. Preston wants this done fast and quiet before any more of his secrets come out.”
Nico leans forward, eyes gleaming. “How fast?”
“If I accept the terms, she thinks we could be divorced in three months. Maybe less.” I take a sip of wine. “Apparently, Bradford is using his connections to expedite things. Patricia says the rumor mill is churning, and word on the street is Preston’s already knocked up the next Mrs. Darlington.”
Nico chokes on her wine, sputtering and coughing, nearly spitting Cabernet all over her sofa. “WHAT?” she wheezes, grabbing a napkin. “Oh my God. Oh my GOD.” She starts laughing, that deep, uncontrollable laughter that borders on hysterical. “Lucky escape there, bestie. Can you imagine being tied to that trainwreck for another eighteen years of child support negotiations?”
I feel a surprised laugh bubble up in my chest. Three months ago, this news would have destroyed me. Now? “I dodged a nuclear missile.”
“Damn right you did.” Nico raises her glass. “To your ex-husband’s spectacularly terrible life choices.”
Three months. The number settles in my chest, heavy and light at the same time. “The terms are better than the post-nup he was planning to spring on me. Patricia’s negotiating a few more points. She’ll send me the full breakdown Monday.”
