When my drink arrives, I down it quickly, then eat the olive from the bottom of the glass. His face twists with something that vaguely looks like pain. What did I do? I follow his gaze and see that he’s realized my ring finger is barren.
But why should I wear those rings? They’re meaningless.
“You look good,” he says finally.
“I’ve been resting.” My response is stiff. Awkward.
“Good.”
“I’ve had a lot of free time recently.” Catty.
He shuts up.
Pain pulses through my heart. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to rehash how we’ve wronged each other. All I want to do is close the awful chapter in my life and move on. Take stock of what I do have and try to muster some gratitude. “What are you doing, Sebastian? Bianca nearly broke into my place to confront me about your lawsuit.”
His eyes darken ominously. “She’s supposed to call Highsmith if she has a problem with me.”
“Like John’s going to tolerate her behavior?” He’s a notorious dick in court, and old-fashioned about manners outside of it. He would never put up with her shrieking or temper tantrums.
Sebastian’s jaw tightens. “She should’ve thought of all that before backstabbing you.”
“You’re going after Roderick and Darren too. Is this your apology?”
He nods and takes a healthy swallow of whiskey.
“Are you going to sue yourself, too?”How far does he plan to go?
He chokes, then laughs dryly. “Obviously not. But I want to do what I can to clean up Peery Diamonds.”
“The company does not concern you.”
“Doesn’t it?” He sips his whiskey. “It’s my partner for the Sebastian Peery launch in Korea. I don’t want anyone who can undermine you there.”
“I’m notthere,” I point out. “Thanks to you.”
He closes his eyes briefly. “Believe me, I’m fully aware of that. But things will change soon. I’m going to bring you back. Peery Diamonds is your kingdom.”
“Is that all?” I ask, trying to wrap up the conversation so I can leave. Seeing him is re-damaging the wall around my heart, whose cracks I’ve done my best to seal.
“No. I want to call in the favor you promised after I agreed to the post-wedding reception,” he says.
“But you refused my offer.”
“And you didn’t accept my refusal. So I have a right to collect.”
I don’t know what he’s going for. He swirls the ice in his glass, and the wedding band on his finger twinkles dully under the light. “If you’re trying to fight the divorce—”
“I’m not. I’ll sign whatever papers you want.”
I should be glad he’s going to cooperate. But I’m inexplicably sad.Do I secretly want him to fight the dissolution of our marriage?
Maybe I do. I want to see that I wasn’t alone in my feelings, although his maneuvers against me clearly proved he felt nothing for me. “If you want to pretend you didn’t hurt me—”
“I just want a little bit of your time,” he says.
“I don’t have any time to spare, not for you.”
He smiles. “You need to eat.”
