“A way that you can get what you deserve.”
CHAPTER 21
TOMÁS
“You’re right, the Met is beautiful at night,” Sarina says, standing in front of the floor to ceiling window in my penthouse.
I inch closer, standing behind her and there’s no ignoring the way her back arches with the increased contact or how her head falls to the side, opening her neck to me, tempting me to kiss it.
“Why am I here Tomás?”
She flips around to face me, pressing her back against the glass.
“I want to help you get what your grandmother left for you in her will.”
Her lips fall to a pout, but I see the look in her eyes. The moment I mentioned her grandmother she became sad, but she’s trying her hardest to fight it.
“That would have worked when you were myhusband.” She lifts her hands up to air quote.
“It can still work.” I lift the certificate I grabbed once we got back to my penthouse for her to see.
“What’s that?”
“My officiant license.”
“What are you, a priest?”
I laugh. “God forbid. No. I’m not even religious.” I go on to explain that I had received my officiant certificate years ago when Emilio asked if I could be the officiant for his and Gabriella’s wedding.
“I want to marry us.”
“I…I…” she stammers, clearly in shock.
Since the moment I met her, I’ve felt this unexplainable pull. To be near her, to be by her side, to help her. And this idea, wild as it is, can and will work, so long as she says yes.
“I already texted a friend that works at the city clerk office, he can have a marriage license for us by morning.” I go on to explain all the technical aspects, though I can’t tell if she’s absorbing it all.
She remains understandably quiet, so I offer to get us some water to drink.
She simply nods and it’s not until I’m halfway to the fridge, when she calls my name.
“Do you have champagne?”
“I don’t think so,” I respond, not even registering the reason she’s asking.
Spotting a bottle of wine, I suggest that instead, my heart suddenly begins racing in my chest a mile a minute.
“If I say yes, is there a way we can do this without telling my dad? I know it’s the stipulation to the will, and as much as I want to piss him off, I think having you as a date is good enough. I’d rather, if possible, get the will part done on the low, and then once I have what’s mine —since to my knowledge there is nothing saying I have to return it upon an annulment or divorce— I can deal with him. Or better yet, maybe I’ll finally have the courage to go no contact with him.”
I meet her over on the couch, handing her the glass of wine. “All I need is the attorney’s contact information who drew up the will, and I can take care of everything.”
It sounds simple, though the more I think about it, the more I realize there are some serious plot holes in my plan. In my haste to make sure I had everything I needed to even make this an option, I didn’t think it through fully.
Sarina takes a sip of her wine and so do I, and before I know it, we’ve depleted each of our glasses, in need of a refill.
“Where are we doing this? Or I guess, how?” she asks, as I give us both an even pour.
Somehow, I didn’t think that part, the most important part, through.
