Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Please Lord, take me now. I’m done here on earth. Toast.
“I don’t know what you want, Cat.”
“Cate.”
“Cate,” he says so quickly that it’s hard to determine whether it’s a jab or an innocent correction. Hmm. “What do you want? Just say it.”
“I want a divorce.” Throwing my arms wide, I say, “I figured you didn’t want to stay in this marriage either.”
So many emotions roll through his features that I’m unsure which will win out. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Annoyance takes the gold. Though anger might be trying to squeak in for a second-place finish.
“You know what?” I plant my hands on my hips, my good mood now soured by him. “I didn’t cause this mess, so I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“My tone?” He laughs, but it’s filled with a lack of patience instead of humor. Looking around, he asks, “Is this a prank?”
“A prank?” Now, he has me paranoid. “Is this a prank?” I poke him hard in the chest again, accomplishing two things.
He’s real. And he’s hard. So hard my finger hurts.
A prank makes so much more sense.
I don’t spot any cameras when I scan the parking lot and beyond, but technology is so good these days. Dropping my head back, I exhale, closing my eyes and soaking in the relief this brings me. When I lift back up, I cover my heart. “Thank God I didn’t lose the house.”
Good, now I can drop my guard and enjoy the reunion instead of dealing with this difficult situation. It feels so good to laugh. Resting my hand on his chest, I use him for support as the tension fades away like a cloud on a breezy day. “This week has been pure hell. I’m going to need a margarita after this.” Looking around once more, I try to see if I spy Ross hanging around the bushes. I don’t see him. Or anyone . . .
Maybe it’s the silence or the way Shane’s staring at me like I have two heads, but my gut tells me something isn’t quite right. I lower my hand, but Shane takes a step back.
Anxiety returns, and I look at him to make it go away. “This was all a prank, right? Me losing the house. The marriage. You showing up here instead of calling. Feel free to hop in at any time.”
That’s when he takes another step backward. “The marriage?” The sensual roll of his dulcet tone clips at the ending. “I’m not marrying you. No offense.”
I throw my hands up in surrender, and a shaky laugh escapes me. “None taken. This wasn’t ideal for me either. No offense back at ya. I’m just glad this was a joke.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not in on any joke and didn’t set out to prank you.” He’s backing away with every word coming from his mouth. With a shake of his head, disappointment fills his irises. “I thought you were different, but this crosses a line I’ve never seen before.”
“What line have I crossed?” I walk behind him, baffled as to why he’s making me feel foolish when I thought we were on the same page.
His pace picks up, and he doesn’t bother to look back. “Married, Cat, really?”
“So it’s not a prank,” I whisper as reality dawns, burying me back in the nightmare I’ve been dealing with all week. “I’m really losing the house?”
There’s no reply, but I can’t let him get away. “We only have forty-eight hours, Shane.”
Turning back, he looks at me from the end of the sidewalk. “For what?”
“To get to the county clerk’s regarding the marriage license.”
“Marriage?” he says. “Carriage. Fuck me. Fucking messages.”
I move closer but don’t want to alarm him anymore since he appears in dire peril. “I need you to go with me.”
“No, Cat, Cate, whoever you are. I’m out of here.”
“No, you can’t. Don’t leave me.”
With his hands in front of him, he isn’t surrendering. He’s preparing. Why? “I can. Watch me.” He turns his back and cuts through parked cars, but I see how he looks back as if I’m stalking him . . . Hit all at once with reality, I gasp, covering my mouth in disbelief. He doesn’t know.
“You don’t know,” I voice barely above a whisper as if he can hear me.
The messages messed up by the new hire.
Me talking about marriage licenses.
Him rushing to his car like I’m about to attack him.
“Shane? Wait!” I run after him. “I’m not a stalker. I promise.”
“Sure you aren’t.” Turning around in the middle of the lot, he scoffs. “That’s what they all say, sweetheart. It’s been . . . interesting.”
“We need to talk.”
“See you at the reunion, then.” He has the decency not to run while I’m left ticking through the math of when the last reunion was held and counting the years until the next.