Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(28)

"Sometimes a parent's expectations of sons and daughters are very different," Susan replied wryly. "My own parents insist that I'm the one who should take care of them in their old age, but they would never think of demanding that from my brother."

Susan and I did a lot of role-playing, which felt mortifyingly silly at first, but as she pretended by turns to be Nick, my father, a friend, a brother, even my long-gone mother, I practiced standing up for myself. It was hard, muscle-knotting, perspiration-inducing work.

"No is a vitamin." That phrase became my mantra. I figured if I told it to myself often enough, I would start believing it.

Gage handled as much of the divorce proceedings as I would allow. And, possibly because of Liberty's softening influence, he changed his approach to me. Instead of telling me how things were going to be, he patiently laid out choices and explained them, and didn't argue with my decisions. When Nick had dared to call the condo and demanded to talk to me, and I'd said all right, Gage had forced himself to hand the phone to me.

It had been quite a conversation, mostly one-sided, with Nick talking and me listening. My husband poured it on, progressing from guilt to fury to pleading, telling me it was my fault as much as his.

You couldn't just give up on a marriage when you hit a rough spot, he said.

It was more than just a rough spot, I said.

People who loved each other found a way to work things out, he said.

You don't love me, I said.

He said he did. Maybe he hadn't been the best husband, but I damn sure hadn't been the best wife.

I'm sure you're right, I told him. But I don't think I deserve get-ting a cracked rib.

He said there was no way he'd cracked my rib, that must have happened accidentally when I fell.

I said he'd pushed me, hit me.

And I was astonished when Nick said he didn't remember hitting me. Maybe one of his hands had slipped.

I wondered if he really didn't remember, if he could actually rewrite reality for himself, or if he was just lying. And then I realized it didn't matter.

I'm not coming back, I said. And every comment he made after that, I repeated it. I'm not coming back. I'm not coming back.

I hung up the phone and went to Gage, who had been sitting in the living area. His hands had clenched so hard in the arms of the leather chair that his fingertips had riveted deep gouges in the smooth hide. But he had let me fight my battle alone, as I had needed to.

I had always loved Gage, but never so much as then.

I filed for a divorce on the grounds of insupportability, meaning the marriage had become insupportable because of personality conflicts that had destroyed "the legitimate ends of the marriage relationship." That was the quickest way to end it, the lawyer said. If Nick didn't contest it. Otherwise there would be a trial, and all kinds of nastiness and humiliation in store for both parties.

"Haven," Gage said to me in private, his gray eyes kind, the set of his mouth grim. "I've tried my best to hold back and do things your way . . . but I have to ask you for something now."

"What is it?"

"You and I both know there's no way Nick's going to let the divorce go uncontested unless we make it worth his while."

"You mean pay him off," I said, my blood simmering as I thought of Nick getting a financial reward after the way he'd treated me. "Well, remind Nick that I've been disinherited. I'm — "

"You're still a Travis. And Nick will play his part to the hilt . . . a poor hardworking guy who married a spoiled rich girl, and now he's being tossed aside like a bartender's rag. If he wants, Haven, he can make this process as long and difficult and public as possible."

"Give him my share of the condo, then. That's all the community property we've got."

"Nick will want more than just the condo."

I knew what Gage was leading up to. He wanted to pay Nick off, to keep him quiet long enough to let the divorce go through. Nick was about to get a big fat reward, after all he'd done to me. I got mad enough to start shaking. "I swear," I said with blistering sincerity, "if I manage to get rid of him, I will never get married again."

"No, don't say that." Gage reached for me without thinking, and I shrank back. I still didn't like to be touched, especially by men, which Susan had said was a protective mechanism and would get better in time. I heard Gage utter a quiet curse, and he dropped his arms. "Sorry," he muttered, and heaved a sigh. "You know, putting a bullet in his head would be a lot cheaper and quicker than a divorce."

I glanced at him warily. "You're kidding, right?"

"Right." He made his expression bland, but I didn't like the look in his eyes.

"Let's stick with the divorce option," I said. "I'd prefer Matthew and Carrington not to have to visit you in prison. What kind of terms are you thinking? And am I supposed to go crawling to Dad for money to give to Nick? . . . Because I sure don't have any."

"You let me worry about the terms. We'll settle up later."

Realizing my brother was not only going to assume the expenses of my divorce, but also the settlement, I gave him a wretched look, "Gage — "

"It's okay," he said quietly. "You'd do it for me. You're not causing hardship for anyone, sweetheart."