Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Instead, my mom waves her hand in a dismissive gesture she’s picked up in the past ten years, because I definitely don’t remember it from my childhood.
“Oh, who knows what will happen?” she says.
I do! I know what will happen! In three months, I’ll have gotten out of this ridiculous marriage trap my brother got me into, and I will go back to my real life.
I wait for Colin to chime in, but instead he stands. “More wine?” he asks my mom.
“You’re a doll. You picked a good one, Charlotte.”
My head drops forward in defeat.
Chapter 10
Sunday, August 30
Somehow, I make it all the way through cocktail hour, dinner, and dessert.
And then? Then I give in to the urge to lose it. The second the cab door closes behind Colin, I whirl on him, punching his shoulder.
“Ouch,” he snaps. “What the hell?”
“Don’t what the hell me. I’m the one who gets to what the hell. Are you seriously telling me you’ve been going over there every single Sunday night for ten years, and you haven’t once told them you married me to get your green card?”
“No,” he says, unperturbed.
“So you did tell them.”
He hesitates. “No, I mean I don’t go over there every Sunday night. I’ve missed a few.”
I punch him again, and this time he grabs my wrist. “Stop doing that.”
I try to wiggle my arm away, but he holds firm, so I settle for glaring. “What was your plan? To just wait for me to come back to New York and deliver the bad news? Let them think you’re the patient, abandoned husband while I’m the selfish, disloyal airhead?”
He doesn’t reply, and my mouth drops open.
“Oh my God. That was your nefarious plan.”
“Nefarious? I didn’t have a plan, Charlotte. I’m not a cartoon villain. I didn’t set out to let them think anything. I saw an aging, lonely couple who missed their grown children. You flitted off to San Francisco without a backward glance. Justin’s wife’s work took them to Frankfurt. It didn’t hurt me any to join them for a home-cooked meal, so I did.”
“And in all those dinners, you couldn’t find the time to tell them why we got married?”
“I’m sure they know.”
“Really?” I let the word drip with sarcasm. “Because I didn’t hear you once correct my mother’s assumption that you’re wildly in love with me and have been patiently waiting for me to return home.”
His head snaps back as though the concept is abhorrent. “She does not think that.”
“Well, she definitely wants to believe it. And I’m betting when I head back to San Francisco, you won’t be telling them that you’re the one who asked for a divorce.”
His fingers tighten on my wrist. “Now who’s the one acting like the put-upon spouse? Don’t pretend that you want to stay married to me. Not when it’s just the two of us. And don’t pretend you ever wanted to get married in the first place. It was a business transaction, pure and simple. For both of us.”
He’s right, but in this moment, nothing between us feels businesslike. He’s still got my wrist in a viselike grip. His expression is murderous, and I expect mine is too. We’re both breathing hard, with just a few inches separating us in the back of the cab, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that the tension between us is just slightly tinged with sexual awareness.
Ten years ago, I married a quiet Irish boy who did absolutely nothing to get my blood pumping.
Now, however, I can’t deny that grown-up Colin isn’t just objectively good-looking—he’s fiercely attractive. To me.
His gaze drops to my lips, and I wonder if he feels the pull too. I wonder if he wants to kiss me as badly as I want him to. He releases my wrist abruptly, turning his head away, and making a noise that sounds an awful lot like disgust.
Well. That answers that question.
I struggle to contain my disappointment, even as I register the sudden coolness on my arm where his fingertips had been.
“It’s just one party,” he grumbles. “We’ll get through it. Then we can tell your parents the whole truth.”
“The truth. Meaning that you want a divorce,” I say, just to be very clear that I won’t be the lone bad guy in this situation.
“Yes,” Colin says in a clipped tone, as the cab pulls up outside our apartment. “That I want a divorce.”
He climbs out of the cab without another word, and I pause just for a moment before following suit, frowning in irritation and more than a little confusion, at how much his announcement bothers me.
Chapter 11
Friday, September 4
Whatever easy tolerance Colin and I had developed during that first week evaporates following the disastrous dinner with my parents.
All week, we’ve been acting like the strangers we are, barely speaking except for absolute essentials.