Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(89)

When Shannon arrived in Spain, she crashed on Angie’s couch for six hours. Now it was dusk, her birthday almost a memory, and the two of them watched the sunset.

Shannon explained the past few months of her life and Angie listened.

“Why did you marry Paul?” Angie finally asked when Shannon had run out of words.

She studied her pink toes, realized she was in need of a pedicure. “Money,” she finally revealed.

Angie blew out a breath.

“Freedom, a way out from under Mom and Dad.”

Angie looked away.

“Don’t look so shocked. It wasn’t a lot different from what you did.”

“How can you say that?” Angie asked.

“You ran away, found a cause . . . to escape them. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll believe you.”

Angie shrugged but didn’t deny her.

“I wasn’t that brave. I finished college with a major they approved of and set out to follow the photographer dreams I’d envisioned while in school. Maybe I would have found success if I was also a journalist or spent my summers as an intern for the paper. But I didn’t, and the back room studio I started barely put food on my plate. Mom and Dad refused to help, and I’m not afraid to say that when it comes to my life skills and living on next to nothing, I’m ill prepared.”

“So you sold out.” For once, Angie didn’t sound as if she were accusing her of a deadly sin. More like acceptance.

“I did. I sought after a solution that would give me the financial freedom I needed at the same time I would make Mom and Dad proud. The difference was, I knew my marriage would end in divorce.”

Angie pulled away, stared at her. “You played him?”

Shannon shook her head. “God, no. I don’t think I would even know how to do that. It was an arrangement. His idea, actually. Two years, a quiet divorce . . . I got the money, and with a wife at his side, Paul won the seat as governor.”

Angie shoved her shoulder with her own. “Holy cow, Shannon. That’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, but then I went and fell in love with the bastard. Not so brilliant. I’ve spent the first half of my thirties pining for a man I can’t have, and now that I find one I can, he doesn’t trust me.”

“Does Victor know about your marriage with Paul? The truth about it, I mean?”

“Not completely. I’ve hinted. I’ve been open with him about everything else. The details of why Paul and I married are irrelevant.”

“If Victor thinks you’re still in love with your ex, then your previous husband would be a pretty big obstacle.”

“I told him it was over. I meant that. And Victor chose to listen to the lies of the newspapers instead of coming to me first. He doesn’t trust me, Angie.” And where were they if there wasn’t trust? On different sides of the planet, that’s where.

Angie leaned her head against Shannon’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting just a little?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Shannon asked.

“Yeah.”

“And when it ended, how did you feel?”

“Like my world was over.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a little while. “The world is still here, you know.”

Shannon leaned against her sister. “I know. But I’m going to ignore it for a little while. Don’t worry, I won’t take up residency on your couch forever. I need to adjust my lens and make things come into focus again.”

Angie nudged her. “Will a stupid amount of tequila help?”

Shannon laughed. “Maybe not a stupid amount, but I think a couple of shots might be in order.”

Angie pushed to her feet and reached out for Shannon to follow. “I know the perfect place where birthday shots are always on the house.”

“Tequila . . . I have a feeling this might not end well.”

Angie laughed. “I’ll take care of you. I owe you.”

Shannon brushed sand off her butt once she stood. “How do you figure that?”

“Mom and Dad picked on you when I ran off. You took on the burden of pleasing them, and I skipped that altogether.”

“You were the rebel, I was the peacemaker. It’s just how we’re wired.”

Angie shook her head. “No, I acted like a child and you acted like the adult. I’m not sure either of us were right, but there is no changing it now.”

Shannon hugged her sister. “Lead the way to my birthday shots, little sister.”

They turned toward the path that would take them back to Angie’s apartment and stopped.

A woman stood leaning against the wall that divided the beach access from the parking lot above.

She wore a wide-brimmed hat, a long coat, boots, and dark sunglasses.

Sasha.

“Do you know her?” Angie asked.

Shannon nodded. “Yeah. I do. Can you give me a few minutes?”

Her sister moved to the path leading home and stood by, waiting.

“That didn’t take long,” Shannon said to Sasha, a woman who worked alongside Reed in matters of security and finding people.

“You weren’t trying hard to hide.” Her thick accent, a mix of Russian and German, cut as much as her stare.