Page 76 of Stud

God, I liked the sound of that. Waving our white flags and surrendering our animosity.

I accepted her offering, placing my hand on hers and giving it a squeeze. What I didn’t expect was for her to place her other hand on top of mine, too. For her to slide her fingers over my knuckles and trace the scratches on my forearm. “I’ve missed you so much.” Her whispered confession held such longing. The type of angst spoken by a lover. “So much.”

I froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stirred. I stared at her roving hand unsure where our wires had gotten crossed. Wires that needed untangling. I gave her another friendly squeeze, then twisted my arm and pulled my hand away. “We’re talking about the divorce, right? Signing the papers and moving forward with our lives.”

She winced as if I’d slapped her. “What did you say?”

“The divorce, Tessa. Selling our house and ending this standoff.”

Her neck went blotchy as she scanned the mahogany walls as though she’d forgotten where she was. “Is that what this was all about? You offering fake apologies to end us?”

Just when I thought we were getting somewhere. “What else could this be?”

“I swear to God, I’ve never been this oblivious in a courtroom. But you”—her jaw flexed—“you affect me, Owen. Always have. You lured me here with false promises, all for what? To get hitched to your latest whore?”

Anger blasted through me, and I nearly tossed our flimsy table across the room. “Don’t you dare talk about my girlfriend like you know her. And this wasn’t a ruse. I am sorry. I fucked up. We both fucked up. This was me trying to admit my failure.”

“To finalize our divorce.”

“Jesus. Yes. To finalize our divorce.” Patrons glanced our way, and I lowered my voice to an angry hiss. “Did you really think we could fall back in love after everything that’s happened? The lies you’ve spread?”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “I was ready to forgive you your indiscretion, but I see clearly now. I won’t make that mistake again, and you’re right. It’s time we both move on with our lives. We’ll sell the house. I’ll sign the papers. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Relief should have bowled me over, but venom bled through her tone. Vindictiveness. I offered a curt nod. “It’s the best for both of us.”

She scraped her chair back, plucked her purse from the window ledge, and smoothed her hands down her jeans. “It’s the best for you, Owen. Everything is always about what’s best for you. I wonder if your girlfriend knows what she’s in for, how selfish you are.”

Steel glinted in her pointed stare, then she strutted out the door, taking the oxygen in the room with her. I sat, cemented in place.

She’d agreed to the divorce, said she’d sign the papers. She could go back on her word, but that wasn’t Tessa’s style, and she’d never, not once, promised to come to an agreement. Still, worry pooled in my gut. Turning her down just now had hurt her. Her embarrassment had been palpable, and when Tessa felt wronged, Tessa lashed out. But she’d already done her worst. Caroline’s text couldn’t even ruin what Ainsley and I had.

Riled up and agitated, I headed home and sanded the coffee table I’d been working on within an inch of its life. I measured pieces for the black walnut stools I’d be building. Normally the steady labor cleared my mind. Today was a lost cause.

Ainsley’s cute texting didn’t even help. When I messaged her that Tessa had agreed to the divorce, she filled my phone with an alphabet of emojis, each more ridiculous than the last. Her silly humor didn’t make a dent in my dark mood. I begged out of our usual evening plans, explaining the whole thing had left me drained.

I drove to Emmett’s instead, soccer bag in my truck, hoping a hard run on the field would do me good. I’d ignored my brother the past couple weeks, or maybe he’d been ignoring me, but there was no answer.

I stood at his door, mulling over my options. I could go for a run on my own, but I’d end up chasing the uncomfortable dread I couldn’t shake. Calling Ainsley and seeking her company would be the best kind of distraction, but she’d want to talk about my meeting. I needed to settle my mind before filling her in. My worry would only stress her out, when I was likely brooding for nothing. Instead I dragged my sorry ass to The Blue Door, hoping Cameron was tending bar.

My favorite thing about the dimly lit wine bar was its come-as-you-are vibe. I’d been here in dress clothes and in my shabby jeans from the Habitat build. Tonight I wore running sweats and a thermal long-sleeve, and I didn’t give a damn.

I exhaled at the sight of Cameron’s inked arms and slick pompadour. “Double Scotch on the rocks.”

“This becoming your new drink?”

“It’s been a wild couple months.” I slid onto a barstool. The place was quiet, a handful of tables full, typical for a Thursday. A cool blast of air shot through the entrance as a few men hurried in. Cameron dropped my drink in front of me, and I knocked back a healthy swallow.

“That rough?” he asked.

“Not sure if today was good or bad, just glad it’s over.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

I shrugged, effectively ending the conversation. There wasn’t much for me to process besides needing to unwind. I was getting my divorce. Tessa misguidedly hoped there was a chance we could mend our fences and try again. It would never happen. Even if I weren’t in love with Ainsley, there was no spark of affection I could fan for my ex.

Cameron filled a few orders while I nursed my drink. The heat of it burned my throat and chest, incinerating thoughts of Tessa and her diabolical games as it slid down. My muscles loosened. My mind uncoiled. It really had been a rough year. Or the best if I counted the Habitat build and meeting Ainsley, the girl with the beach-glass eyes and wicked sense of humor who turned my world right-side up.

I couldn’t count how many times I’d wanted to pull her close and whisper I love you. I’d watched her face for signs she felt the same, but Ainsley was still coming around to the notion of us spending all our nights and mornings together, to her vegan food next to my “gross” deli meat in my fridge. At times she’d worry her lip when lost in thought, a sign I’d taken to mean: