Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Agreed. And we’ll add some steak for protein; it’s all good.”
Mia’s expression fades into seriousness and she says, “If I’m able to reach Kevin, it can even be a celebration of sorts.”
I put down my fork, take out my phone and text her.
“I just sent you his contact info. Call him when we’re done here.”
“In a hurry?” she asks in a teasing tone.
“Very much so. The further you get from Adam, the closer you are to me.”
Her lips curve upward in a smile, causing my pants to tighten in the crotch area.
She wants me closer. And fuck, do I want it, too. I want her bad. My cock’s not just hard for her anymore—it actually aches for her touch. I still can’t believe I’m getting a shot with her.
Marceau may not want Mia to divorce him, but it’s happening. If I have to serve him the fucking divorce papers, walk into the courtroom with her, and move her shit out of his house, I will.
It’s.
Happening.
Chapter Seventeen
Mia
I glare over at Dix as the closing credits to The Shootist start rolling.
“That was the saddest movie ever,” I say.
“It’s a classic,” he counters. “John Wayne’s last movie.”
“Yeah, but…it’s so sad.”
Dix shrugs. “Sometimes life’s sad, too.” He tips a bottle of beer to his lips and finishes it.
“Believe me, I know. That’s why I like my books and movies to be happy. They’re an escape.”
Anton pats my knee briefly from his spot beside me on the couch. “Next time we’ll watch The Notebook.”
“No, we can’t watch that!”
He lowers his brows, confused. “Isn’t that a chick flick? I thought all chick flicks had happy endings.”
“Some people would tell you The Notebook has a happy ending, but I’m never watching it again,” I say adamantly. “It made me cry.”
Dix groans, disgusted. “Life ain’t all roses and sunshine, Mia.”
“Yeah.” I give him a wry look. “You’re really roughing it in that fancy motorized wheelchair.”
He cracks a rare smile. “I won’t argue with that. See how pleasant the beer and nachos made me, you two? Get me some porn and a bottle of lotion and I’ll be the jolliest fuckin’ old man you ever seen. I’ll have sunshine comin’ out my ass.”
“Not happening,” Anton says, standing up and reaching down to take my empty plate.
“I’ll get them,” I say.
“Just sit, I’ve got it.” He takes my plate, then Dix’s.
“Hell of a note,” Dix mutters. “Makin’ an old man go to his room, while you two will be out here doing a live action porno. I can’t even get a goddamn nudie mag.”
My face warms and I stand up immediately. “Actually, I better go.”
Anton stops halfway across the living room and looks back at me. “Ignore him.”
“Believe me, I do. But I really should go before it gets late.”
“You sure?”
His expression is disappointed, and I want to sit back down and stay so badly. I can’t, though. The more I’m around Anton, the more attracted to him I am, and the less I trust myself to be alone with him.
“Yeah.” I walk over to the chair I left my coat on and grab it, putting it on.
“Let me put these in the kitchen and then I’ll see if the doorman can come up so I can drive you home.”
“I’m not gonna die if you leave me in bed alone for an hour,” Dix says gruffly.
“I’ll just take an Uber,” I say.
“No, let me drive you.”
I really want to. I like being next to him while he’s driving, sneaking the occasional glance down at his big hands, which really turn me on. I like the way there are no distractions—just the two of us alone, talking.
And that’s exactly the problem. I feel guilty over how much I like being alone with Anton. I shouldn’t have come here on a Saturday night; it’s not like this is a night where I’m taking care of Dix.
Kevin dropped everything to start my case when I called him. He asked me to come into his office immediately and told me he filed the paperwork to start the case rolling already.
I was relieved, anxious and thrilled all at the same time. I can’t believe I’m actually getting divorced. My marriage to Adam has been an emotional prison for such a long time. Being free from him was a dream I didn’t even dare consider.
It’s happening now, though. I’m going to end our marriage in the only way it still exists—the legal one. In the meantime, I’m not going to be a cheater. And it’s not about being true to Adam, but to myself.
If Anton wants to be with me—which is a very big if—I want him to know exactly what he’s getting into, and I don’t want to start anything with him until I’m completely free of Adam.
I can’t tell him the whole truth about me though. Not yet. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does, with a gleam in his eyes that tells me I’m beautiful and worthy. That shine may fade when he discovers who I really am, and I’m not ready for that.