Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
He clenched his jaw tightly. His hand rested on the table, and his fingers tightened into a noticeable ball.
“I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not trying to hide you.”
“Seems that way.”
“He’s just… Please.”
He stared at the desperation in my eyes and finally released a sigh. He slammed his hand onto the table then dismissed himself to my bedroom. He shut the door quietly, but he obviously didn’t want to.
I felt terrible.
I went to the front door and twisted all the locks so I could open it.
He barreled inside with rage in his eyes. “You took yourself off the account?”
I knew he was going to figure it out eventually. His next statement would show he was the sole holder of the account. He might have even gotten a notification that I’d left. “Yes.”
“What the fuck, Anna—”
“We aren’t married anymore.” I was sick of having this same conversation over and over. I wanted to move on, start over, but he refused to let that happen. “We’re divorced. Do you understand that?”
His lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes burned with dark fire.
“I’m moving on with my life, Liam. That means I don’t want your money. I can take care of myself.”
Liam looked around. “You live in a dump, Anna. You’re a waitress who barely makes a living—”
“Still better than being married to you.”
His jaw slackened, but his eyes looked devastated.
“It’s over, Liam. You need to move on.”
His chest rose and fell at an increased speed as his hurt eyes took me in. “It’s still my responsibility to take care of you. Together or apart.”
“It’s not…” Sometimes I got so angry with him, but I had to remember he was a good man…despite what he did. This was just hard for him, even though he’d had plenty of time to get used to the change.
“You didn’t take any of my assets in the divorce. You didn’t take alimony—”
“Because I don’t want it, Liam. All I ever wanted was you.”
He closed his eyes as if that comeback stabbed him through the heart.
“You need to stop showing up like this. It’s inappropriate.”
He opened his eyes again. “You don’t take my calls.”
“Because you shouldn’t be calling me, Liam. And that’s my right.”
He stepped back and ran his fingers through the back of his hair. The vein in his forehead was popping because he was so livid. He was used to getting whatever he wanted, and if he couldn’t, he physically fought for it.
“I’m seeing other people.” I’d never directly told him before because I assumed he already knew.
He closed his eyes once more, this time, his jaw clenching in agony. He dragged his hand down his face and took a step back, so furious that he didn’t know how to bottle the rage.
I said it because it was true. I didn’t want to hurt Liam, but he needed that push to finally move on. And I also wanted Damien to know I wasn’t keeping secrets either.
When Liam righted himself again, his eyes moved to my closed bedroom door.
Shit.
After a heartbeat, he started to move.
I grabbed him by the bicep, gripping the enormous muscle before I tugged him back. “No.”
He twisted out of my grasp.
“Liam.” I didn’t raise my voice, but my tone was full of promise.
He came back to me, but his eyes kept glancing at the door. He was livid when he had no right to be.
“You’re seeing other people too.”
“I haven’t.” His eyes darted back to me, his tone barking. He challenged me with his gaze, as if he dared me to accuse him of lying. “And I’m not going to. We can make this work. I believe we can—”
“Liam.” I pressed both palms against his chest. “It. Is. Over.” He was the one who’d thrown us away, the one who’d broken my heart, the one who made me cry every night. But I still felt like shit doing this to him, being so cold and heartless. “Move on. I already have.” My features wanted to slacken because it was so painful to say that to him, to hurt him when I knew he genuinely loved me. But I had to be cold, fierce. Otherwise, he would be stuck living on hope.
He took a deep breath as he held my gaze, devastated by the knife I’d just stabbed into his heart. His gaze dropped for an instant, searching desperately for something to say, but when he couldn’t find the words, he stepped back. My hands slid down his chest as he headed to the door. He didn’t look at me again before he walked out.
I stared at the closed door for several heartbeats, feeling guilty when I was the one who hadn’t committed the crime. It’d been six months since I’d signed those papers, so he had enough time to come to terms with the finality of our divorce. He couldn’t keep showing up on my doorstep like he had the right. He needed that devastating blow to finally move on, to know there was a man in my bedroom who had slept over the night before.