Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(53)

“Two months after you put it on.”

He glanced at her hand, wasn’t surprised to see she wasn’t wearing the two-carat ring he’d spent a small fortune on. Other men would have asked for it back.

She must have noticed his attention on her hand. She lifted it up, wiggled her fingers. “I sold it.”

That, he didn’t expect.

“If you knew you didn’t want to go through with the wedding, why did you plan it? Why wait until the last moment to run away? Was I so impossible to talk to? Didn’t I deserve a face-to-face conversation saying you were leaving?” Because while he admitted he didn’t give the woman as much attention as he should have, or maybe even the love she deserved, he had never fought with her or denied her whatever she wanted when it came to their wedding plans. He gave her gifts . . . what woman didn’t like gifts? They went to nice places . . . yeah, he was sometimes late, and there were times his phone interrupted.

“I got caught up in the process and waited until no one was looking.” For a nanosecond, her hardness ebbed and her eyes moved to her lap.

He reached across the table, and she snapped her arm away. He opened his mouth to say he understood her position, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Then I realized that you’d kept me waiting over and over again, and it was my time to return the favor.” Her anger was back.

Around them, people hushed their personal conversations to watch them.

Victor lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could talk to me.”

She leaned forward, her voice tight. “You don’t know me. I was told you addressed our families with a nice speech about me getting cold feet and then you mingled. How could you mingle?”

“I thanked our guests for coming and encouraged them to enjoy their stay regardless of what happened.”

“Then what did you do? Catch the next flight home to go back to work?”

He was not going to have this pissing match with her. Not in public. What was the point, anyway?

Closure, he told himself, he was searching for closure. For him, for her . . .

Victor’s silence had her sitting up as if he’d answered her question with a yes.

“While you were mingling, I was out getting laid.”

She was trying to hurt him.

He couldn’t muster a jealous ounce of adrenaline.

Her nose flared. “He was fabulous.”

And there it was . . . the age gap in Technicolor.

Scooting his chair back, he picked up the keys to his car and paused. “I have a box of your things at my place. Should I send it to your parents?”

“Burn it.” Her foot tapped against the air.

He wouldn’t, but he stood and finished their conversation. “Goodbye, Corrie. I hope you find someone who deserves you.”

Outside of the coffee shop, he took a deep breath.

That didn’t go well.



“I need advice.” Shannon looked out over her secluded backyard under the shade of her patio, her phone to her ear.

She could count on one hand how many times she’d been in her pool, and twice had been after her return from Tulum. Both of those times she’d ditched her swimsuit and hoped none of the neighbors was flying drones in the area.

“Is this about getting pregnant?” Lori was on the other end of the line. It was just after three in the afternoon. Shannon wanted to catch her friend before the end of the business day in hopes of luring her over for an hour after work.

“No. Nothing to do with that at all, actually. Is there any chance you can swing by after work today?”

“Oh? It’s something important?”

Shannon rubbed the back of her head with her free hand. She’d been up late, huddled over her computer, and woke with a crick in her neck.

“To me, but nothing you have to drop everything for. If you’re busy—”

“You never ask for me to drop by after work. I’ll be there. Should I bring wine?”

“I have plenty, just bring yourself.”

“Since there seems to be a lift in your voice, I’m going to assume I can leave my lawyer hat at work.”

Shannon laughed. “I haven’t done anything illegal in at least a week, you’re good.”

“If Avery said that, I’d worry.”

“Liam is taming our willful friend.”

They shared a laugh and hung up with the promise of seeing each other later in the day.

She set her cell phone in her lap, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

Slowly her body melted into the chaise lounge. Normally she’d feel a little guilty about having nothing to do during the middle of the day and move to try to change that. But since Tulum, she didn’t feel the drive.

Not for the first time that day, her thoughts shifted to Victor. What was he doing? At work, of course . . . but what did that look like?

She brought up the thread of texting he’d managed to sneak in since they parted in Mexico. Basically it was a series of numbers followed by something snarky from her.

The day after he’d called her, he sent a text. 74 Days She replied with a rolling-eye emoji.





73


Are you going to ping me every day? she’d texted back.

Maybe.

And he did, until day sixty-seven. Much as Shannon hated herself for looking forward to his attention, she couldn’t deny the fact that she looked at her phone several times . . . waiting.