There was probably a vengeful way he could press her against the wall and take her mouth. Show her he was fine, that he didn’t need her to race here and fix anything.
He could kiss her so hard it hurt, a little voice inside him said. Except he wouldn’t. He’d kiss her gently, so fucking gently, and she’d melt in his arms. He could almost feel the little exhale she’d let out, the way her body would tremble before she surged into him and kissed him back.
He needed her to leave before he did something stupid. Three years ago, he’d ignored this same self-preservation internal alarm, and look where it landed him—broke, struggling for new direction, and bitterly alone.
Monica Fischer was dangerous.
And she was staring at him, still, waiting for him to say something.
He didn’t know what to say.
Get the fuck outwas probably too harsh, even with their history.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
She flicked her gaze to the ceiling. To his apartment. “Would you rather have this conversation somewhere else?”
“No.” He was shaking. God damn it.
She reached out, as if she was thinking of setting her long, slim fingers flat on his chest.
The fucking nerve.
But she thought better of it, clenching her hand into a fist in the air between them, then dropping it to her side.
He took a jerky step backwards, and she visibly inhaled a big breath. Held it.
“Okay,” he finally said. Good, his voice sounded cold. That was good. “So we’re still married.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I think we’re beyond apologies.” He hunched his shoulders up. “Why the fuck are we still married?”
“I can’t explain it. But I want to make it right.”
“You came all this way and you can’t explain it?”
“You probably have grounds to sue—”
“I don’t want to fucking sue anyone. I can’t fucking afford—” He snapped his gaze out the window, so he didn’t have to look at her for a second longer. It was so fucking hard to look at her. “And I’m not signing anything else with your father’s fingerprints on it. I can begin my own divorce petition here.”
“I was thinking—”
“No.” He didn’t want her to be in charge of this. He wasn’t taking directions from Fischers ever again. “Whatever your idea is, I’m not interested. You asked me to lie to the court, and I did. But it didn’t feel right then and I won’t do it now.”
“It was…an annulment was…”
“It was a fucking lie,” he snapped. “If you came all this way to have a conversation with me, let’s start there. With the fucking lie that we didn’t consummate our marriage. Because we consummated the fuck out of it. For fourteen days and fourteen nights. Consummated it in every way possible, didn’t we?”
She blanched, and he was pretty sure he should feel bad for using the passion they once shared as a weapon now. He didn’t. It might have the impact of a bludgeon, but it felt like a shield.
“We did,” she whispered. “I won’t ask you to lie again.”
“Good.” He exhaled. “I don’t want anything from you. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not…” Her body tightened up. She lifted her face to the ceiling, taking a beat before looking directly at him. “This isn’t a cold transaction for me. Maybe I wanted to see you, too. Make sure you were all right.”
He spread his arms wide. “Take a good, long look. Look your absolute fill. I’m here, just doing my thing. It’s a free country. You can even catch up on what I’ve been doing, because I spent most of the last two years documenting it with videos—”
