“Yup. They need you out there immediately. Ask Dierks to go to your apartment to pack up your bags. He can have them shipped out right behind you, okay?”
I know Dierks will hate that. He’s a junior partner, not an intern. And someone who’s been busting his ass off just as much as me.
I nod, still in shock by how quickly he wants me to move. “Okay…”
He smiles. “See you in a couple months. Check in with me when you touch down.”
When he’s gone my fingers immediately fly to the crisp pages of the divorce paperwork on top of the file.
This morning, I’d thought I’d see Boone this afternoon at the signing. I thought I’d have the chance to look him in the eye one last time before legally ending everything we’d built. I wanted to confirm in person that what he said was true despite his horrible timing.
But now, that moment has been snatched away, along with our plans to visit Canada next weekend.
Sure, I could push back, tell my dad I can’t go to Los Angeles or work on this case. But this is how things work here. We move when the firm needs us to, from coast to coast, building our client base and expanding our reach. It’s always temporary. I’ll be back eventually.
Everything is temporary…
I tell myself I’ll be back. That maybe, after three months apart, Boone’s feelings will still be there. Maybe we can figure out what comes next for us.
But then I shake my head, feeling foolish. His season ends in three months, which means this will be his busiest time of the year too. He won’t have time to fly to the west coast and visit me. He wouldn’t have time for us even if I were here.
Realizing there’s no use dwelling on it now, I tuck the paperwork into my briefcase, grab my coffee, and stand. I know I’m supposed to sign these papers before I leave, but I just can’tbring myself to do it. Not now. I'm not ready for things to be over. I’m not ready to give up on Boone.
I want to be his wife just a little bit longer.
With a deep breath, I head out the door, letting the decision hang in the air like a question that I’m not ready to answer.
Chapter 40: Boone
“It’s so damn hot in these offices,” I mutter under my breath, leaning closer to Cain, who’s typing away like a machine at the conference table in thePrescott & Associateslaw firm.
I have no idea what he’s writing, but his focus is unshakeable, his fingers moving in rapid clicks across the keys that must be making sentences. He doesn’t spare me a glance from behind his dark glasses, though his eyebrows do twitch slightly, acknowledging my existence without actually engaging.
Guess Maxwell Prescott’s obsession with punctuality only extends tousbeing on time, not him.
I check my watch again then tug at the neckline of my maroon, Mayhem sweater, the heat in the room feeling more oppressive with each passing minute.
“Aren’t these places temperature controlled?”
Cain grunts. “Yes, but it was warmer yesterday, so the thermostat has trouble keeping up.”
“Season changing pains.”
He ignores me again.
I’ve been here long enough to start wondering if Maxwell Prescott is intentionally making us wait as some sort of power move. Which is ridiculous considering I'm the one who’s paying him.
Maybe it's because he's still mad at me about Rosie and the fact that she kissed me on camera.
I smirk, remembering how it felt when she did it. Who knew a kiss could be that hot? Fuck, I miss her.
Where the hell is she anyway?
My eyes flick to Cain again, and when he pauses his typing for a moment, I pounce.
“Where’s Rosie?”
He finally looks up, his brows lifting slightly as if surprised by my question. His lips roll under his teeth like he’s debating whether he’s going to tell me. That pisses me off. But just as he opens his mouth, the door bursts open, and Maxwell Prescott’s booming voice fills the room.
