Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(60)

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

His face, so fiercely angry, softened for just a moment before turning to stone again. He jerked his chin toward Chateau Nouvelle. “I’ll tell Jax you weren’t feeling well.”

She gulped, scanning his face. “You’re kicking me out?”

“This is my home,” he said, locking his eyes with hers and throwing back the words she’d said to him in L.A.. “My life. And you’re not a part of it.”

“I’m still your wife,” she answered softly, shocked by the words, wondering where in the world they came from.

His eyes narrowed and he scoffed. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Pres…”

“That’s a joke,” he said more forcefully, taking a step toward her.

She stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated by him, tilting back her head to look up into his face.

Say it again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can fix that by leaving. Now.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not just sorry for being here tonight. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for… everything.”

His breathing was so rapid and shallow, his chest almost touched hers every time he inhaled, but as she choked out the word “everything,” she heard it hitch. She heard it pause just for a moment.

“Preston,” she whispered, stepping closer to him. “I’m so desperately sorry.”

His eyes were wild, dark, and furious as he stared down at her, and for one nail-biting moment she imagined he was deciding between kissing her or slapping her…and she honestly couldn’t decide which one she’d welcome more. She longed for the first, but felt she deserved the second. In the end, he did neither. He stepped back from her, clenching his fists by his sides, and flexing his jaw before looking up at her again.

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“It’s not sympathy, it’s remorse.”

He winced, his eyes softening again, the tension slipping from the thin line of his lips as he gazed down at her. Suddenly he blinked, as if rousing himself from a trance.

“I have divorce papers,” he informed her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you come by my office on Monday and sign them?”

Her initial instinct was to say no. No, I will not come and sign divorce papers, because there is no part of me that wants a divorce. I still love you. I know I messed up terribly, but I want another chance to be your wife. But she knew that if she refused him, he would withdraw his invitation. And if she was going to ask for his forgiveness, she desperately needed the opportunity to see him alone.

“What time?”

His lips parted in surprise and his face fell. For just a moment, he searched her eyes before dropping them. When he looked up a moment later, his glare was as flinty as sharpened steel. “Ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I work at—”

“Clifton, Jackson and Webb.”

“Y-Yes. That’s right.”

The door to the ballroom opened suddenly and a petite blonde woman in an elegant, very expensive cocktail dress stepped onto the patio. “Pres!”

He turned to the woman, stepping toward her and holding out his hand.

“Beth.”

His voice was warm, and it sounded so much like the Preston she’d pushed away two years ago, it made her breath catch.

“I’ve finally found you.” The woman laced her fingers through Preston’s easily, and Elise could barely contain the acid-like flare of jealousy that made her want to scratch the woman’s eyes out. “Wow! I recognize you! You’re Elise Klassan. You were in that movie…”

“The Awakening,” offered Preston, raising Beth’s hand to his lips and kissing it slowly as he kept his eyes locked with his wife’s.

“Yes, of course! That was it. You were marvelous!”

Elise slid her eyes from Preston’s to the pretty blonde, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t tell me you knew a famous movie star, Pres!” said Beth, beaming at him as he lowered their hands.

Preston’s eyes didn’t flinch from Elise’s as he answered.

“That’s because I don’t….” He paused, staring at her intensely. “…know her.”

Beth gestured to the ballroom, offering Elise a kind smile. “Won’t you join us inside? I think Olivia’s about to make a toast.”

“No, I…” started Elise, but her voice failed her.

She was bereft. She was stupid and ridiculous and way too late. He hadn’t waited for her. Not that she’d given him any reason to, but seeing him with someone else hurt like hell. Worse than hell. Like nothing she’d ever felt before. He had moved on with this woman, this interloper, this Beth, who, damn it, seemed genuinely nice. Elise’s eyes burned as her heart plummeted.

“Miss Klassan isn’t well. She was just leaving,” he said, his voice oddly gentle after so much vitriol. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, thanking God for every acting lesson that was helping her get through the rest of this scene.

“What a shame,” said Beth. “Another time, then.”