Page 134 of Sin

“I’ll call mine.”

Something ugly flickers across her face. “Already thinking like a businessman.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Thinking like someone who has done enough damage by pretending things could stay undefined.”

She looks like she wants to argue, then maybe she realizes I’m right. She walks past me toward the front door.

I turn. “Jenna.”

She stops with her hand on the knob.

“I’m sorry.”

For once, I don’t say it to make myself feel better or to fix anything. She looks back at me.

“Me too,” she says.

Then she leaves.

I stand in the foyer for a long time, listening to nothing. My first instinct is to call Laurel. That tells me everything. My phone is already in my hand before I stop myself.

No.

Not yet.

I won’t drag her into this while the dust is still in the air. I won’t make her responsible for the end of my marriage, no matter how much Jenna wants to put that weight on her and no matter how much I have earned every consequence coming my way.

This is mine to handle.

I scroll past Laurel’s name with effort that feels almost physical and call someone else instead.

My attorney answers on the third ring.

“Sin,” Richard says, voice alert despite the hour. “Everything all right?”

I look toward the front door.

Then at the bare space on my left hand where a ring used to sit before I left it upstairs weeks ago and never put it back on.

“No,” I say. “I need to discuss a divorce.”

A beat of silence. Then Richard’s tone changes. Professional. Careful. “All right. Are you safe? Is Jenna safe?”

“Yes.”

“Is this mutual?”

I think of Jenna’s face when I said I loved Laurel.

“No.”

“Do we need to move quickly?”

“Yes.”

“For financial reasons?”

“Partly.”