I lean back in the seat, my head hitting the white leather headrest, and close my eyes. “I didn’t drive today.”
He looks completely baffled, and I don’t blame him. “Zoey, you need to talk to me.”
“My current living situation is unconventional, and it’s really best if you don’t drop me off at home.” I sigh. God, I hate this. The night was going so well and feeling almost magical. I was relaxed and content for the first time in a long time, and now this.
He unbuckles his seat belt too now and leans right across the console, reaching out and cupping the side of my face and turning me so we’re eye to eye. “I’m only going to ask this once, and you need to be honest,” he starts and waits for me to respond, so I nod. “Is it safe for you to live there with him?”
“Yes. I promise.”
He says nothing at first, and those crystal-blue eyes search my face for any sign I might not be telling him the truth. When he’s satisfied with what he sees, he exhales. “Okay. Because if he hurts you, emotionally or physically, then you have to tell me. Or someone.”
“It’s nothing like that, I swear. He just isn’t signing the divorce papers.” I pull away from his hand and rest my head against the seat again, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, suddenly weary. “He was supposed to get the business, and I was supposed to get the house. It was in the pre-nup, which he drew up, but now he’s going to contest it.”
I go on to tell him everything about how I was living in the hotel but the credit card was canceled and I maxed my only personal card to pay for it, so I moved back into the house and am hoping it pushes him into signing the damn paperwork. “And then this morning I got up and my car was gone.”
“Gone?”
“It was a lease. A birthday present from him last year, and it was technically in his name.” I huff out a frustrated breath. “So he returned it, but the joke’s on him because I’m not a snob like him, and I’ll ride a streetcar or jump in a cab. I even downloaded the Uber app, so he can suck it.”
Jude listens without interrupting until I finally stop talking. Then he starts the car. “Buckle up and give me your address. I’m your Uber tonight.”
I hesitate, but I know there’s no talking him out of it, so I give him the address and reach for my seat belt. He doesn’t say a word the whole drive, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. I can see him rolling this new information aroundin his head, trying to make sense of it. If he can, I hope he enlightens me, because I’d really like to know how to make my world right again.
“Which one?” he asks, slowing as we approach the iconic row of houses across from Alamo Square Park.
“Second from the end. The blue one that matches your eyes.”
He smiles at that, but it’s soft and without its characteristic hubris. He pulls to the curb a house away from mine, and I’m happy he’s not right out front in case Adam is home and happens to look out the window. I don’t want to give him any reason to start asking questions. I mean, not that I’ve done anything wrong. I haven’t.
I unbuckle my seat belt and glance over at Jude, who is still wrestling with his thoughts.
“So the jack-off is making this impossible for you. Slowly pulling all your options, like your credit cards and your car, because he’s trying to beat you down so you just walk away, forget the pre-nup and give him everything.” He’s not asking a question, he’s stating the facts and he knows it. For the first time ever, I watch Jude’s face cloud over with anger. I have never seen him look anything other than flirty, mischievous or gregarious. The darkness doesn’t make him any less attractive. In fact, the tiny flip in my stomach means it makes him more appealing. Oh Mylanta.
“I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to back off or give up,” I promise him, my voice soft but firm. “I’m not greedy, but I’m not walking away with nothing. I helped pay that mortgage, and I busted my ass to grow his business too, so I deserve my fair share of what we’ve built.”
I can literally see the anger lift from his features, and that perfect mouth with the perfectly symmetrical lips pulls into a suggestive, roguish smirk. “Don’t bust that ass. It would be a crime against humanity if it was busted.”
“You definitely grew out of your shy side,” I reply.
“I was never shy, I was inexperienced,” he corrects and reaches over to push back my hair and then lets his fingertips trail over my cheekbone and down to my jaw.
“And now you’re experienced.”
“I can prove it.” He leans closer and his tongue slowly slides out and wets his bottom lip; watching it is like watching a match scrape across a striker. Only the flames it creates burn inside of me.
I can feel his breath dance warmly across my skin, and his lips brush mine. And I know that this kiss is going to be incredible. The kind that wraps itself around your soul and bleeds its way inside, branding you with its heat and intensity for the rest of your life. When you’re old, on your deathbed, it’s remembering kisses like this that gives you comfort. That gives you proof that you lived, and lived well. Just like our first kiss did.
But I can’t let it happen. Not now. Not like this. I pull away, reaching for the car door and swinging it open. He looks disappointed but not surprised. Still, I give him an explanation. “I’m still married. It’s honestly just on paper but…I need to respect that.”
“I understand,” he replies. “And now I hate him even more.”
I smile. “Good night, Jude.”
“See you soon, Zoey.”
“I hope so.”
10
