I snorted. “I think you meant, ‘I promise to love you even when you pretend you’re not wrong. I vow to stand by you in good times, bad times, and all the questionable Vegas decisions we’ll someday lie about to our kids. You’re my safe place, my favorite risk, and the best jackpot I’ve ever hit.’”
“Interesting,” he said. “You act like our marriage was nothing more than a clerical error, but you have our vows memorized word for word? Doesn’t sound like a woman eager to end a forever.”
He was right. I needed to do better.
I looked down, fiddling with the edge of the comforter. “Let me guess, you got served, panicked, and flew out?—”
“I flew out here,” he said through his teeth, “because my wife is making a huge mistake. And to remind her that I made her a promise. And when I make a promise, I keep it. So quit the games,” he said through gritted teeth. He shook the papers in my face. “And let’s burn these things.”
“You need to stop bossing me around.” I folded my arms across my chest, which only reminded me—crap—I wasn’t wearing a bra.
He must’ve sensed my sudden insecurity because his gaze dropped to my chest, then snapped back up. One corner of his mouth lifted.
“Eyes up top,” I ordered. “Also, I think you need a reminder that I am not your property.”
“No.” He leaned in, and when his forehead rested against mine, my traitorous heart skipped. “You’remy wife.”
His cologne must’ve been laced with heart-scrambling serum because every ounce of my resolve was slipping.
I squeezed my eyes shut, held my breath, and schooled my expression. “Do you think I paid the retainer for fun? I wouldn’t have gone through with this unless I knew I was making the right choice.” I’d spent the last of my money on that lawyer.
Griffin sat back and let out a humorless laugh, but I’d hurt him. I could see it. “So why’d you even marry me? Just to get in good with my family? Because you knew they had the money to back your beauty line idea?”
That stung, but I reminded myself that hurt people hurt people. I clamped a hand around his forearm. “No. It has nothing to do with that. The beauty line was Peyton’s idea. I married you because I love you.”
“Youloveme?” Shoot. That should’ve been past tense. He held up the divorce papers. “Then why are you doing this?”
I let out a breath and chose my words. “Because sometimes love isn’t enough. And because we don’t want the same things anymore. And I don’t want to go back out west.”
“Why?” He searched my face. “I thought you liked our life together? Just the two of us, remember?”
I had. So much. It was the happiest three weeks of my life. But marrying him had been a selfish indulgence I never should’ve allowed myself. In time, he’d see this was for the best.
He threw his hands up. “If I did something, just tell me. Do I snore? I’ll get checked for sleep apnea. If my breath is bad, I’ll brush and mouthwash twice as much and start taking probiotics.”
“It’s not that, okay?” My chest squeezed. All the love I wasforcing down tried to strangle me. “I just… the company is here. And it isn’t something I can do from out there.”
He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You sideswiped me with this, you know?”
“I know. It’s m-my fault,” I managed. “It’s not what we talked about when we said ‘I do’ so…” I made myself swallow. “I release you from our marriage.”
Those incredible shoulders stiffened. “I don’t want to be released from our marriage,” he growled. “In fact.” He glanced at my naked ring finger. “I want my wedding band back.”
“You mean the one you slapped into my hand before you left?” I lifted my chin. “Too bad. I lost it.” I winced as the lie slipped out.
A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “You lost my ring?”
“Sorry.” I pulled the blankets up higher. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Well.” He stood, looking flustered. “Did you look for it?”
“Obviously.”
He flipped over a magazine. “Why do you have a copy of Wired in your room?” Then another. “And Psychology Today?” He held up a third. “And CHIP?” He tossed the magazine back onto my dresser. “You’re a model, for crying out loud.”
They were Theo’s—and I only read them when I couldn’t fall asleep. Who needs to count sheep when you can read about how to optimize cognitive performance? But I wasn’t going to tell him I couldn’t sleep. Not only would he want to know why—he’d make some arrogant remark about how I’d slept just fine when he was next to me.
As he searched my room for the ring he wasn’t going to find, I got up and started making my bed. “We could’ve had this conversation on the phone. You didn’t need to fly all the way out here. I told you not to.”
