Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(69)

“I didn’t make him especially happy, either. Not that that stopped him from wanting his fifty percent of CK Industries.”

She heard the bitterness in her voice and told herself that at some point she had to let it go. “I don’t miss him but I sure resent him decimating my bank account.” She sighed. “I understand the point of community property, but in my case, it really sucked.”

“Sociologically, we expect the man to be the breadwinner. As a society, we accept, and even expect, the woman to get part of the man’s money but when it’s the other way around, it doesn’t feel right.”

She glared at him. “Get your self-actualized theories out of my face. I’m not talking about feeling socially awkward about the situation, I’m talking about being pissed that the man I put through grad school, paying every penny of his tuition, turned around and took fifty percent of a business I’d worked my ass off to make successful.”

Dugan grinned. “Sophie, you’re irresistible.”

“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into not being grumpy about Mark.”

“I would never try.”

“Were you married?”

“Briefly. We were young. The company was just starting. It didn’t work out and neither of us were to blame. We’re still friends.”

“You’re friends with your ex-wife?”

“You don’t talk to Mark?”

“God, no. What’s the point? Marrying him was a mistake.” She shuddered at the thought. “Friends? You’re a freak.”

He chuckled. “If I get the chance, I’ll be sure to introduce you to my ex. You might find her interesting.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’d like to meet Mark.”

“Have at it. He lives in Lubbock where he teaches American history at the community college.”

“So he got his dream.”

“And a very nice settlement. He’s living large.” She held up a hand. “I don’t begrudge him a good life.”

“I know. It’s that he took from you. How many others have done the same?”

She tucked her feet under her. “My college roommate. We were sharing a dorm room when I found tiny CK starving on the side of the road.”

“I know your origin story. Unlike you, I do my research.”

“You’re a better human being. Blah, blah, blah.” But there wasn’t a lot of energy behind the words. For some reason, she wasn’t upset about Dugan’s success or “life balance” anymore. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the realization that they were different people. And if he was just a little bit better than she was, she would have to deal with that on her own.

“Anyway, Fawn helped with the videos at the beginning. But when things started to take off, she wasn’t interested. By the time we graduated, she wasn’t involved at all, but she’d been there at the start, so when we started to go our separate ways, she wanted a piece of the pie.”

She sighed, remembering. “We settled. My lawyer told me going to court was a waste of money—that I would lose. I had to use the last of the money my mom had left me to pay her off. Stupid cow.”

She sniffed. “The roommate, not my mom. My mom was great.” She looked at Dugan. “I was a rebellious teen who wanted her to understand how grown-up I was.”

She felt her eyes burning. “When she was killed in a car accident, I quickly realized I wasn’t grown-up at all.”

He lowered Mrs. Bennet to the floor, then shifted next to Sophie and pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing her against him and holding her tight.

“Thanks. It was long time ago, but I still miss her.”

“She would have been so proud of you.”

“I hope so. She always talked about the importance of working hard. I wish she could know I learned that lesson. I wish I could see her one more time.”

Emotions she’d suppressed for years rose unexpectedly, tightening her throat and filling her eyes with tears. She tried to distract herself by focusing on Dugan. He was warm and he smelled good. A little man, a little soap, a little fabric softener.

“Do you do your own laundry or do you have someone come in and do it?” she asked.

He straightened enough to look at her face. “What kind of question is that?”

“I just wondered.”

“I do my own laundry.”

“But you have a cleaning service.”

“Yes. Every week.”

The mundane conversation gave her enough emotional distance to get herself under control.

“You’re such a guy.”

“Because you’ve never had a cleaning service.”

“Of course I have, but that’s different.”

He grinned and pulled her close again. “You amaze me.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Sophie. You’re a mess, but I can’t stop thinking about you. All right, let’s solve one problem today.”

“I don’t have any problems.”

The response was automatic and not the least bit true, but she wasn’t about to take it back.

“People try to take advantage of you,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “Let’s work on that one. Figure out how much you want to give to charity every year, then divide it into quarters. That’s your amount. Once it’s gone, you’re done until the next quarter. Preplan some giving to causes you care about.”