Chapter 7
“Aloaf of Frenchbread, fruit, cream cheese, maple syrup.” I tapped my bottom lip, organizing the ingredients on the counter as my eyes darted between the recipe and thefridge, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
It felt good—running errands just for me and preparing a casserole for the brunch Bev was hosting. A large bottle of top-shelf vodka lay beside the heavy cream, and I moved the alcohol to the opposite counter, hoping the other girls liked what I was bringing. The television echoed from the living room, and I laughed as Dad conversed with whatever channel he was watching.
The day had started with minimal billing claims at work, a leisurely trip to the store, and no arguments over turkey sausage versus thick-cut bacon. If things kept going this smoothly, I’d be able to relax in the garden tub with a glass of wine instead of carrying a bottle upstairs and aggressively drinking it in my bedroom while contemplating my life choices.
I should have gotten lavender bath salt and rose oil so I could light a few candles later and put on some classical music to accompany my soak. Perhaps that could be the new end to my days instead of the exception. The wonky plumbing in my bathroom needed adjusting first, but there had to be a YouTube guide or something to walk me through fixing the pipes.
A knock at the front door startled me, and I wiped my hands on the dish towel Bev brought over that saidCorks are for Quittersbefore heading to see who was there.
“Trey?”
My voice was quiet and shaky as I opened the front door and stared at my ex. Like his very presence threw me back into some ridiculous preteen phase where my hormones and emotions ran erratic circles around my psyche and plummeted my self-worth.
I made no move to open the screen door but glanced at the latch to ensure it remained locked. The last thing I needed was himinsidethis house. My father’s condo remained a safe space he’d never set foot in, and I had no desire to change that.
A bead of sweat formed between my shoulder blades as the silence stretched on, but I refused to be the one to speak first, only openly glaring at him as his eyes slowly perused my appearance. I squashed the need to roll my eyes and remind the idiot that I worked from home and, in my infinite free time, tended to a sick parent, which took precedence over whether or not I chose to wear yoga or pajama pants. Luckily, since I’d ventured out of the house to go to the pharmacy and the grocery store, my attire was jeans and a flowy blouse cut low enough to show a fair amount of cleavage.
As Trey’s gaze landed on my boobs, my eyes narrowed, and I bit the inside of my cheek. He had his own little twit at home to ogle, so I adjusted my shirt and squared my shoulders, smirking as he finally realized what he’d been doing and hurriedly looked away.
Trey always took pride in his appearance, and it still showed, from the artful way his mousy brown hair was tousled across his forehead to how his vomit-colored collared shirt had two buttons undone, revealing his stupidly groomed chest hair that always clogged the bathroom sink.
He sighed, tilting his head so his hair fell over his eyes, and then raised a brow. What did he expect my reaction to be? Grateful that he drove an hour out of his way to tell me something stupid like the cactus I kept on the back porch had finally died, and I needed to collect the pot because he wasn’t going to dirty the back of his new SUV.
Perhaps the dryer vent needed to be cleaned, and he was irritated that I took the vacuum cleaner attachment, but not the actual vacuum.
Fuck this silence.
“What are you doing here?”
He scoffed, smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on his shirt before tilting his head in the opposite direction and resting one palm against the door frame.
“Invite me in, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He winked, and anger bubbled hot in my chest as I clenched my fist by my side and silently counted to ten.
“There is absolutely nothing for me to say and no reason for you to be here. Don’t you have a fiancée waiting for you in Hilton Head?”
A petulant noise escaped his throat as he exhaled, putting one hand on his waist. “She had a baby appointment or something. Plus, she’s been sick in the morning, and a long car ride wouldn’t do her any good.”
Just when I thought his douche level couldn’t sink any lower, the white-hot anger I felt spilled over. I had to place one hand on my chest and the other over my stomach to keep from verbally eviscerating him into tiny cubes of man meat.
“So, you sent her off to the doctor’s alone and drove an hour for what? Unless you’re about to tell me you delivered the signed divorce papers and I’m finally free of your bullshit, there’s nothing I need to hear in person.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. The papers are signed, sealed, and delivered, Sum.”
“Summer,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “My name is Summer. It’s two fucking syllables,Trey.”
“Whatever. Like I said, we’re officially divorced and whatever, but my lawyers brought a little something to my attention, so we’re not finished just yet.”
“Your lawyers? Surely, the language wasn’t too difficult for you to understand.”
“Oh, my sweet, Summer,” he taunted, stressing the second part of my name as he shook his head. “The wording wasfine, par for the course, really. But you neglected to mention something pretty important.”
“Oh, really? Well if we’re accusing one another of random omissions, I see you neglected to add a clause about you not only being engaged before the paperwork was finalized but also conceiving a child with someone else while we were still legally married.”
“My lawyers are well aware that our marriage was in turmoil long before I met the love of my life.” Trey removed his hand from the doorframe and put it on his heart, grinning like a loon and fluttering his lashes.
“Turmoil? Really? That makes one of us who knew about it.”
