Page 119 of Reveal

Now that? That gets my attention. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember Baron’s old friend Pierre? She’s dating his nephew now and making sure everyone knows it.”

Good fucking riddance. “Where do you hear this shit?”

“All women have their ways, dear.”

“Apparently.”

We fall into a lull as the waiter comes and goes, and my thoughts veer toward the women currently fucking with my life.

“You’re still not talking,” my mother says.

“I never talk much.”

“It’s not that. What is it that’s bothering you?” she persists.

“I told you. There’s nothing.”

She narrows her eyes and studies me, her hands stilling on her silverware. “Are there holes in the drywall, Ryker?”

“A shit ton,” I say without thinking, my mind preoccupied and already out of this stuffy restaurant I don’t even want to be at.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Fuck if I know.” The four words come out in a sigh. The same four words I’ve been saying a lot of late.

“Your mouth is very unrefined at the moment,” she scolds.

“Yeah, well, it matches my mood.” I toy with my knife for a moment, trying to think about anything other than Vaughn and the goddamn hole she poked through my heart with her tears and puffy eyes and complete misery she wouldn’t explain to me yesterday. “Tell me something.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you ever hire a divorce attorney, pay him a retainer, but never actually file the papers?” I ask.

Her laugh is low and telling. “Considering you’ve been my lawyer for two of them—”

“Before me. Your first two marriages. Did you?”

She purses her lips, and then a soft smile spreads on them. “Not that I can remember. If you hire an attorney, you’re pretty serious. Most of the time, people file, and once it becomes real is when they decide they want to talk to their spouse, and sometimes they work it out. Why?”

“Nothing really. It’s just that I have a client I can’t figure out is all. She’s connected to my life in certain ways, and . . . I don’t know. The longer I work with her, the more I question her reasons for contacting me.”

I can’t put my fucking finger on it. Any of it. Vaughn. Bianca. And only one of them I really want to.

“Her?” she asks in surprise.

“Yes. A woman.”

Her eyes narrow, and a slight smile paints her lips. “You’ll figure it out, dear. You always do.” She pats my hand, and I order another drink.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask, Vaughn more than surprising me when she answers the phone.

“Mmm. Yeah. Getting there.” She sounds sleepy, like I want to curl up behind her and pull her against me.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Yes . . . but not yet.”