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)
“And many have been saved,” his attorney says, “by spending time together.”
“I . . . um . . .” Still struggling to understand why Shane would even want this when he’s moving on with someone else, I close my gaping mouth since my throat is going dry, clear it, and say, “We’re not really married—”
“You are, Mrs. Faris,” his attorney states so boldly.
“Farin. My last name is Farin.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Farin—”
“Ms.” The gall of this man . . . and the one beside him. I shoot Shane a glare I hope rattles his bones.
The attorney, undeterred as if the name game was planned from the beginning, continues, “Are you prepared to stand before a court under oath and declare you made every effort to save your marriage, Ms. Farin?”
“Yes,” I say without a second thought. No debate. No doubt at all. I don’t know Shane from Mr. Rosen, and I’m not marrying him. Okay, I can admit I know him better than my patients—the real him he showed in the privacy of my apartment right before he revealed his true self in that heated argument. Shifting my eyes to the man himself, I take a breath, then ask, “Why are you doing this? Please just sign the papers.”
“I’ll take forty-eight,” he says, his interest shifting into a higher gear. Oh now he’s all hands on deck instead of leaving it to his weaselly attorney to do his dirty work.
“So now you want less time with me?” I cross my arms over my chest, utterly offended that I’m being negotiated like a cow on the sale block.
Shane leans forward. “Forget everyone else, Cat. I want time with you.”
“You had it and blew it.”
“Give me another chance. I’ll take anything you’ll give me. I want a chance to get to know you, a chance to know my wife before we divorce.”
I scoff. “Wife? That’s rich, like you, yet I didn’t make one request of you despite all that.” I was softening until he threw that out like he did our relationship.
He says, “Make one. Right now. I’ll give you anything you want.”
Enticing, but I can’t be bribed. “Unlike you, Shane, I didn’t come here with any intention of making demands. That’s all anyone ever does of you. I was giving you the opposite—your freedom.”
“You don’t have to be such a saint.” My head jerks from the audacity of this man while he continues, “If you want something, just ask.”
“I’m not something. I’m a person who you’re requesting.” Resting my hands calmly on the table in front of me, I push through the shock and gather myself back together. “I have a life, a career, friends who are waiting to have margaritas with me to celebrate my divorce—”
“Celebrate?” He looks away, his gaze distancing through the window as the reality of what we are hits him like it did me last August when he walked out my door.
The tension in the room is so thick that the attorneys appear uncomfortable. The squeak of a chair across from me pulls my eyes back to Shane. I once saw sadness in his blue eyes, but this is deeper, causing my own heart to squeeze. Vulnerability is rare for a man of his stature, fame, and wealth. Shane Faris wears his heart on his sleeve for me, but why? “I’m asking for one chance to show you who I am.”
“No, you’re asking for two days.”
“I’ll take a day, a lunch, an hour. Fuck, another elevator ride—”
“I’ll pass on the last part.” My heart starts thumping in my chest again, my throat tightening as my emotions well in my eyes. I hate the unknown clouding truth with fiction, so I ask, “Are you marrying someone?”
“No,” he replies without hesitation. “I’m already married.”
Is it the words he said or the emotions he’s showing me? It’s both, and I believe him. I look down at the papers once more, not knowing why I’m even considering this. “If I give you the forty-eight hours, you’ll sign the papers?”
“I already have. So even if you change your mind on the time together, all it will take is your signature to file.”
He gave me the power before we walked in here. What do I do with that information? I keep my eyes on the documents, needing to be clear with my understanding before making a final decision. Will spending time together really make it easier to walk away from each other?
Maybe this is what we both need. Proof in real time that we’d be terrible together. His chance to say what he needs to get off his chest. Closure for me.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. One of the worst ideas I’ve ever had comes to mind. I ask myself, what would Luna do? What do I want to do? I look up, doubting the words even as they come out of my mouth. “You have forty-eight hours. That’s it. You better make the most of it.”