Page 54 of Dream Chaser

We hung up. I got my makeup bag, applied concealer under my eyes, retouched my foundation, and spread two coats of my favorite lipstick over my lips for an extra boost of confidence. After hesitating for a beat, I added blush.

Luckily, Eleanor was too busy with her family to pay me too much attention when I said I was going out.

Twenty minutes later, I strolled into Coffee Time with my stomach aching from anxiety. A young couple sat at a table by the window. A middle-aged man scrolled through his phone in the back. Two girls giggled over lattes.

But no Preston.

Sighing, I sat at the table closest to the entrance so I’d see him coming. I ordered a cappuccino and stirred it absent-mindedly as minutes ticked by.

Only a few sips were left in my cup by the time Preston bothered to show up. He pulled a chair out and sat, narrowed eyes roaming my face. My chest squeezed—here he was, wearing his usual khaki pants and white polo, his hair combed to the side. The man I’d married. The man who now felt like a stranger.

He flagged the waitress and ordered an espresso, then crossed his arms, leaning back. “David told me what happened.”

I sipped my lukewarm coffee. “Good. If he continues the renovations, it’s going to be considered trespassing. And I could sue him.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ve never appreciated anything I did for you.”

A lump rose in my throat. I gripped the mug, swallowing. “You crossed the line by touching my property without my permission. There’s nothing to be grateful for. I didn’t want you to renovate my house, so give me the keys and let’s get it over with.”

“Hm.” He crossed his arms. “Interesting. So, you’d rather the house fell apart like our marriage? All the couples we know work through their issues instead of running away. But you”—he shook his head—“you used something I said one time as an excuse to pitch a fit.”

I took a steadying breath. So now I was immature for demanding respect? For not wanting to be called names? “It wasn’t because of something you said once, and you know it. Don’t pretend our marriage ended over nothing.”

His face twisted, rage peeking through the calm facade. “I care about the vows I gave, unlike you. And I’m tired of rescheduling with the marriage counselor Mom found. We’re still married. I’m just waiting for you to realize you’re nothing without me. Let’s see how long you’ll last in Emerport once that stuck-up friend of yours kicks you out. Scarlett, right? I know you have to be staying with her. Your mom told me you crawled back home because you had nowhere to stay.”

My breath hitched—he’d unknowingly hit right where it hurt. I wasn’t staying with Scarlett, but I didn’t have my own place, either. Depending on strangers’ kindness was humiliating. But so was staying married to a man who didn’t love me. “Your concern is touching, but where are my keys?”

He scoffed. “All the problems you’re causing, and you’re focused on your keys?”

I glanced out of the window toward the street lit by amber lights, my patience fraying. “No, I’m also focused on getting a divorce. There’s no point in counseling.”

Not when our issues stemmed from a lack of love and respect. Even now, he wasn’t sorry. Pissed off, sure, but not sorry.

He balled his hands into fists. “We’re a month away from elections, and I need you by my side. Stop being difficult and come back home.”

“What home?” I pushed my empty cup aside. “The one whose locks you changed?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “What did you expect? You left me.”

“I expect nothing,” I said, steepling my fingers. “I just need you to give me the keys to my grandma’s house and—”

A loud buzz stopped me mid-sentence. My phone lit up on the table, and Alejandro’s name flashed on the screen.

He must’ve had news about NitroFlow, but there was no way I’d talk to him while Preston pinned me with his glare.

Not when my hand remembered the warmth of Alejandro’s. Not when his words of reassurance replayed in my head.

“Not answering?” Preston nudged the phone toward me, cocking his head. “Alejandro? What kind of name is that?”

I grabbed the phone and dropped it into my purse. It buzzed once more, then stilled, leaving only the hum of conversations and the pop song playing overhead. “That’s my boss.”

“Your boss is a man.” He rubbed his chin. “Of course. I should’ve known. How did you get that job of yours, again?”

I clenched my jaw. “I got it because I’m qualified.”

He smirked. “Well, that’s debatable. What did you wear to the job interview? That slutty dress of yours?”

Air left my lungs. I shot to my feet, rattling the cups on the table. Hands shaking, I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and tossed it down.