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)
“And he convinced them that he was horny for his best friend’s hot little sister.”
“I guess,” I say with a laugh. “Regardless, they didn’t really seem to care. My brother says we didn’t really have any of the red flags they tend to look for. There was no major age difference. We’d known each other a few years, at least loosely. Overall, the guy interviewing us seemed happy enough to believe Colin was just a nice Irish lad who came over here for school and got smitten with his best friend’s sister.”
“But he wasn’t smitten.”
I snort. “Hardly. Colin was—is—well, he’s serious. Mostly he just ignored me, but if he ever did pay attention to me, I’m sure it was to roll his eyes at my penchant for purses and lip gloss. But he apparently managed to lie well enough, because nobody batted an eye. Thanks to you,” I say, blowing him a kiss.
Because me buying real estate in a different state from Colin would have been a big red flag, Kurt and Lewis had done me a major favor. Actually, favor doesn’t even begin to cover it. They’d bought me a house. I paid them back every penny, obviously, but technically, my home here in San Francisco is in their name, which means if anyone asks, I can technically be living in San Francisco part-time for work.
The arrangement was working just fine for everyone until my brother thought it would be hilarious to force us to live under the same roof and prove it in order to get divorced. Until Colin decided he wanted a divorce.
Men. Not on my happy list right now.
“So, in case I don’t get to tell you before this all goes to hell, I’ve already told Lewis that if you go to jail, he needs to pull some strings so that you’re incarcerated here in California. So I can bring you gift baskets.”
“I’m not going to jail, Kurt.” I hope.
“You might as well be. You’re seriously going to live with someone you don’t know? What if he’s a serial killer?”
“He’s not a serial killer. And I’m doing it because it’s time to close this chapter of my life. Past time. I have a fake husband, Kurt. It’s a little pathetic.”
“Okay, fine, but why can’t he come live here?” Kurt whines. “He’s the one who wants the divorce. Make him move into your place. Well, technically, my place, but you know what I mean.”
“Colin’s job is less flexible than mine. I can work from anywhere. He can’t. He doesn’t have a Kurt,” I say, trying to butter him up.
But Kurt’s known me too long and knows me too well. He narrows his eyes. “You didn’t even try to fight him, did you? You want to go back to New York.”
Want to? No. Definitely not.
But … I think I need to.
That city and I have some unfinished business.
Chapter 4
Thursday, August 20
New York, New York
Colin’s apartment building is a surprise. Though, come to think of it, I’ve had so little time to actually envision what my life for the next three months will be like that any building probably would have been a surprise.
In the midst of moving across the country, handing over the reins of my company to my team, preparing to come face-to-face with my parents and a decade of baggage, and, oh yeah, playacting at wife, a role I’m quite sure I’m ill-suited to, the details of the roof over my head have barely crossed my mind.
But they’re crossing my mind now, as I take in my home for the next three months. And like I said, it’s … a surprise. Colin had emailed me the address ahead of time; obviously, I haven’t been gone from New York so long that I don’t know my way around Manhattan street names to know that my husband and I would be shacking up in Tribeca.
But it’s an odd choice for a guy like Colin. Tribeca is the it place for families. It has the best schools, a fancy Riverwalk Pier with putt-putt and fancy daycares. If you find yourself married and knocked up in Manhattan and can afford it, you move to Tribeca. Colin, for all intents and purposes, is single and childless, save for one wayward pesky wife.
If I had to guess, Colin’s neighborhood of choice probably has more to do with the fact that Tribeca borders the Financial District, which is where Colin’s law firm is located. Since he’s a corporate attorney, I’m guessing he must find that the short commute is a fair trade for finding himself riding elevators with nannies, mannies, and golden retrievers.
Given all of that, I think in the back of my head, I’ve been expecting some place shiny and minimalist when the Uber drops me off at Broadway and Park Place (not to be confused with Park Avenue, darlings, that’s Upper East Side territory).