I couldn’t read the look on his face.
And that was no wonder.
I barely knew the guy.
Okay, fine. I knew him very intimately. But that was it.
Still, I felt safe saying that he didn’t exactly look as horrified by this situation as I felt.
“How about I order some coffee? Breakfast?” he offered.
I needed both.
Just not with him.
“No,” I said, making his brows raise.
“You need something in your stomach.”
“I need a divorce,” I said, chin lifting.
“A divorce,” he repeated.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
I chose to ignore that.
“Or an… annulment. Whatever it is. I need to find a lawyer and get us a divorce.”
He looked at me so long that I shifted my feet, a weird sensation starting to simmer in my belly.
Something wasn’t right here.
I knew it the second before he opened his mouth to speak.
“No.”
“No?” I repeated, brows pinching.
“No,” he confirmed.
“No, what?” I asked, mind still too tequila-soaked and sluggish.
“No, I don’t want a divorce.”
“You…what?”
“I don’t want a divorce.”
I couldn’t tell you how long I stared at him, but it felt like a good, long while.
Because… what?
What did he mean he didn’t want a divorce?
That didn’t even make sense.
Unless…
