My eye twitched again. “So, he likes emotional abuse. Mind fucks, and all that shit.”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like he’s a lawyer.”
She snickered. “Well, you have all sorts of new tricks, huh? Sorry I’m not as entertaining.”
I watched as she dove into her burrito, and I figured I wouldn’t press her about it any longer. If she wanted to talk, she would. Plus, I had a lock to change out, anyway. My food grew cold as I perched at her door, moving as quickly and precisely as possible in order to get it sorted.
And thirty minutes later, she had a nice, new, sturdy set of locks on her door.
“There,” I said as I tried to open the locked door, “he’ll have to take a battering ram to that damned thing to get it open.”
Rose sighed. “I can’t thank you enough. Honestly.”
I tossed the screwdriver back into the toolbox. “Anything else I can do to help while I’m here?”
She didn’t respond immediately, but when she did all she had to do was look over at me and bite her plump lower lip. It dragged my gaze down to her mouth, and for the life of me I couldn’t think of anything else except what it might taste like. I’d had the pleasure of kissing her a few times back in high school. You know, when she taught me how to not be an endless nerd in front of the girls.
But god damn it, it looked like it tasted so sweet and succulent.
“Rose, spit it out,” I said. “Your telltale sign has always been you chewing on that lip of yours. What’s on your mind?”
She quickly stopped doing what she was doing. “I hate that you can do that. Always have.”
I winked at her. “No, you don’t.”
I walked over to her and perched on the opposite side of the couch before I reached for my lukewarm coffee.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said as she shifted to face me, “but it’s going to sound weird, and you might not like it.”
I spread my arms wide. “Won’t know until you ask.”
“There is something else you can do to help. Something that I think will make Blake sign the divorce papers without draining me dry in court.”
“What is it?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Pretend to be my fiancée.”
I damn near choked on my coffee and coughed as it dribbled down my chin. Her eyes were on me as I quickly set the drink down and used my hands to dry off my fucking face.
What the hell had she just asked?
“Told you,” she said flatly before handing me a stack of napkins.
I quickly cleaned myself up. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
Her nervous laughter said it all. “No, idiot. I’m asking you to pretend.”
I tossed the wet napkins onto the coffee table. “And how in the hell is that supposed to help you out?”
“Look, my hopefully soon-to-be-ex-husband is many things. But deep down to his core? He’s a traditionalist. He believes that once you’re married, you stay married. Even if he fucks someone else. Even if he plays mind games. Even if he wants me to play the part of some kept, stay-at-home wife that pumps out child after child for him, he truly believes that marriage is forever. So, I’m thinking that maybe… if another man claims me as his woman… well, you know. He might back off.”
“But he doesn’t respect your claim to him?”
She sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t even begin to understand his logic. I just know that’s how it is.”
