"And what exactly do we have here?" I asked, feeling her grip tighten around me.
"Freedom, partnership... and excellent sex," she murmured.
Our lips met again, and we spent the remainder of our final day in Amsterdam tangled in the sheets, far away from the prying eyes of Washington. We fell asleep in each other's arms, savoring the last moments of the bubble before the dawn of a new reality arrived.
#37
“'Cause we want crimes of passion. Survival of the fittest, You're either with us or you can keep it" Paramore
The moment we landed in D.C., I found myself wishing a thousand times over that I could turn back and return to the Netherlands. The American cold was sharper, drier, and far less welcoming. As I walked toward the waiting car, I caught a glimpse of Kelsey through the jet window, waiting for me to clear the tarmac before she made her own exit.
My phone glowed the second I settled into the back seat.
K. Calama:"See you in eleven days."
I smiled at the screen and looked out the window, but the runway was already a blur in the distance. I couldn't wait that long.
Megan Woods:"How about we hit the club before our next trip?"
K. Calama:"Saturday?"
Megan Woods:"Definitely. See you in New York—I can be there by Friday."
K. Calama:"I’ll send you the address."
The next notification was a pinned location on the Upper East Side, followed by a note that the keys would be delivered to my office the next morning.
I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose when I spotted my interior designer waiting for me with a wide, expectant smile. I’d spent ten hours on a flight and had explicitly asked for no welcoming committee. The driver stepped out with my bags, and she ushered him inside.
“Just leave them in the living room, thank you,” I instructed.
“Hello, dear. I believe I mentioned in my emails that I didn't want anyone here,” I said, turning toward the designer, who remained planted in the middle of the lobby.
“But everything looks so beautiful, Mrs. Woods...” she stammered. I simply pointed toward the elevator, signaling for her to get in. The moment the doors opened on my floor, I pushed open the heavy industrial metal door. The decor was impeccable.
“It really is beautiful. Is this everything you wanted to show me?” I asked. She flicked on several switches to highlight the accent lighting.
“Your husband called us two days ago,” she noted hesitantly. “He insisted on a key, but since you hadn't authorized it, we told him he’d have to get one directly from you.”
“You did the right thing. And he's my ex-husband,” I corrected. She opened her mouth as if the pieces were finally falling into place. “Thank you for overseeing everything. Your firm was extremely competent.”
I opened my purse and pressed two hundred-dollar bills into her hand.
“There's no need for this, ma'am,” she insisted.
“I have a bit of trouble with protocols outside the courtroom,” I remarked dryly. “Don't take it the wrong way; it's a thank you for not handing a key to my ex-husband.”
By Friday, the keys to the New York apartment were already in my hand. Despite the constant stream of messages from Kelsey, the knot of anxiety in my chest was growing.
???
It was Wednesday, and the keys to the New York apartment were already in my possession. Despite the video calls, the suggestive photos, and the constant stream of messages, nothing could suppress the growing knot of anxiety in my chest.
As I left the office, I offered a quick word of thanks to the staff. Although the judicial recess didn't officially end until February, the team was working tirelessly to keep the filings and contingencies up to date.
My phone rang, an unknown number. I had a sinking feeling it was Peter. The moment I settled into the back of the private car, I steeled myself and answered.
"Hi, my love."His voice echoed like a hammer against my temples. I could practically feel my blood pressure spiking with pure resentment.
