Page 18 of Two Wrongs
‘Looking for Nigel’s leash. He’ll need walking.’
‘Fuck walking the dog,’ I snap suddenly. So much for calm and collected. ‘He’s not your dog anymore and no longer your concern.’
She releases her shoulders from up around her ears with a sharp sigh. ‘I just thought... never mind.’ She hangs Nigel’s lead back, closing the door.
‘He has a walker,’ I say gruffly, though she doesn’t deserve the knowledge of either of our day-to-day lives. If she’d cared, she would’ve stayed. She wouldn’t have lied. ‘There’s still some of your tea in the back of the cupboard.’Fuck it; I’m not supposed to be making nice here.
Ivy grabs a cup from the cupboard above the coffeemaker, pouring herself a cup from the pot. She rests her hip against the worktop, her gaze fixed on the garden, totally avoiding me. ‘Fell off the wagon,’ she says with a wane smile.
‘Chocolate, too?’ I fight against the instinct of my lips turning up. Jesus Christ, I’ll be asking about her period next.
‘Dylan—’
‘Look—’
We both speak at once.
‘You go first,’ I tell her, setting my own cup down.
‘Why am I here?’ she asks softly, her gaze flicking my way momentarily.
Several visceral reactions happen all at once; my gut clenches, my chest pinches, and my brows furrow. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Where’s the vitriol? The attitude? This should be where I tell her she’s royally screwed.
‘Sit down, Ivy.’ I unknowingly use that tone—the one she used to love bossing her around—and remarkably, she does. The metal stool grates against the tiled floor as she pulls it out. Clasping her hands around her cup in front, she tracks my movements as I pull out her divorce petition from a folder by my arm. ‘You want this finalised.’ It’s not a question, and she doesn’t answer. ‘Would you care to tell me why?’
‘Why we should get divorced?’
‘There you go again, answering a question with another of the fucking same. Just tell me the truth for once in this miserable excuse of a relationship.’
‘We’re not good for each other,’ she almost whispers, her eyes studying the contents of her cup.
This isn’t going as I want it to. So cool and evasive again. I thought the months away, months of ignoring her and her bullshit papers might’ve rattled her a little. Though she chooses not to let many know, she has a temper on her like a rattlesnake.Who knew she was sly like one, too?She goes off like a volcano when pushed; tiny Ivy turning like the Hulk. And I’d know, having pushed her there once or twice. Tears. Throwing things. Doesn’t happen often, but man, the payout is like nothing else. Angry sex is fucking awesome with Ivy but not a helpful thought right now.
‘Ivy—’
‘Good morning!’
Behind me, one of the French doors open, but I don’t turn around, my focus caught by Ivy’s response. She sits straighter, her gaze moving from her cup to the woman behind me. Not as cool as she’d like to make out, there’s more than a hint of green colouring her honey tones.
‘Hey, Dylan. I saw your car and thought—’ Melissa’s running shoes squeak against the tile as she halts. ‘I didn’t know you had company. My bad.’
The perky blonde stands by my side—this couldn’t have worked out better if I’d planned it myself. Ivy’s gaze sweeps over Lissa’s tiny pink running kit once more—up then down—before narrowing on me.That’s it, babe. Fucking look at me for a change.I slide my arm around her lithe waist. She won’t mind; she’s made her intentions clear numerous times. Heavy hints I’ve so far paid no mind.
‘Hey!’
Melissa does this small, awkward wave as though it’ll somehow alleviate the tension in the air. Tension you could slice with a knife and serve like pie. My fingers curled around her hip, I squeeze, and her face turns to mine. From my position on this stool, we’re the same height.
‘Why don’t you go grab Nigel. We’ll catch up later after his walk.’
Her eyes flare; a mixture of desire and surprise. Melissa’s hot, but she’s my dog walker, and we’ve nevercaught up. I’ve never gone there and never suggested I wanted to, until now. It’s not that she’s isn’t cute; it’s just too much of a pain to find someone else to walk Nigel’s woolly ass while I’m in the city where I live these days. A high-end penthouse; white walls, floors, and furniture. Sterile. And like a nut house.
‘Sure thing,’ she replies in her super perky L.A. way. Sometimes, this town sucks ass. Though ass sucking does have its perks; depends on which end of the bargain you want to be. Suckeror suckee.
Fuck, looks like I’ll be hiring a new dog walker soon.
As Lissa grabs his lead, Nigel lumbers into the room. Usually more than happy to let her fuss and coo, he shows no interest today. Instead, he plants his square snout on Ivy’s lap. My jaw clenches when her gaze moves from my face to concentrate on stroking his head.
There’s an awkward moment when Lissa needs to fasten the lead to the collar; it yields no result when she calls Nigel over to her.
