Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
She turns with a smirk on her lips. “Like the place?” she asks sarcastically. “My prick of an ex made sure to sell all my belongings when I went out of town.”
“Oh my God,” I say, the words coming out in a whisper of disbelief and pity, neither of which truly resonate with me. There’s only a sofa in the living room, a sleek gray contemporary sectional. I imagine it would look beautiful if the living room itself wasn’t devoid of any other piece of furniture. She settles down onto one end and I take the other.
Glancing up at the chandelier I tell her, “I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was beautiful …” my voice trails off and she doesn’t say anything.
“You could go to the cops,” I offer her, and she laughs with ridicule. If she weren’t so arrogant, I’d feel sorry for her. With her cheeks sunken in and the silk pajamas baggy on her slim frame, she appears far less beautiful and enviable than I remember her.
“He’s got them all on payroll, sweetheart. I’m barely surviving.”
“I am so sorry,” I say, at a loss for words and feeling so much more uncomfortable than I anticipated. I even feel bad for her to some degree.
“Divorce isn’t always a bad thing, love,” she says and then takes in my expression. “I’m sorry for you two, though, I really am.”
It’s hard to judge her tone, so I’m not sure how to take it.
“I actually had something to ask you about your husband.” I shift on the sofa, preparing to question her. Samantha reaches for a pack of cigarettes and slips one out.
She lights it then asks, “What’s that?”
There’s a glint in her eyes and her back stiffens slightly.
“Evan doesn’t like him much anymore,” I offer her, gauging her reaction and she lets out a small laugh that’s accompanied by smoke.
“I don’t much like the asshole either.”
“Can’t blame you,” I say, keeping my tone agreeable as I set my purse down beside me and feign a casualness I don’t feel.
“He told me weeks ago he thinks James is trying to hurt him.” I hold her gaze as I say, “I think he’s paranoid, but he’s worried about his reputation since leaving the company.”
Samantha takes a long drag of her cigarette, ignoring the question until I tell her.
“I was hoping that if I talked to you, you could tell me the truth. Evan’s just being crazy, isn’t he?”
Every nerve is on edge in my body. There’s something about how she looks at me. It’s as if she’s wondering what to do with me.
I don’t trust the look, and I don’t trust her.
“Evan told you what, exactly?”
“Evan told me that James tried to kill him, thinking he’d do coke left out for him.”
“Did he?” she asks condescendingly. “I’m surprised because from what he told me, he didn’t want you to know.”
I hate her in this moment. I hate the expression of disinterest.
I hate that Evan was with her when he should have been with me.
I hate that she knew he was keeping secrets.
More than that, I despise that she has any hold over my emotions at all. How could this woman affect me so much? My inner voice hisses, because you let her.
“It was a mistake on his part,” I lie to her, my fingers tensing as I grip my purse harder. “He got drunk one night a few weeks ago and lashed out at me. It’s the last time we spoke.” Her expression changes slightly, but only slightly, with a raised brow and the hint of a smirk. Amusement. I fucking hate her.
“Maybe it was a mistake to come here. I thought you’d know or maybe get a sense of how Evan’s doing since you were with him.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Leaning forward, she puts out the cigarette in a mug that’s sitting on her furnace. It’s then that I know she’s not going to tell me a damn thing. She’s far too stiff and closed off.
“My apologies for coming then,” I say, shrugging it off. There’s some piece of me that wants to confront her about the affair years ago. A part of me that wants to tell her I know.
She’s a liar, though. It’s so very clear. There isn’t anything I need from this woman.
“It was a mistake on my part,” I say then offer her a sad smile, taking in the room once again. “I hope you get everything you want from the divorce.” I leave her with that false sincerity. The only thing I hope is that I don’t have a reason to ever think of her again. She’s nothing more than a waste of time and breath. Every second I’ve wasted on her is one I’ll never get back and this woman isn’t worth my time.