Page 18 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Good. That means you haven’t forgotten about me.”
I smiled as he teased. “Will you be out late? I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Probably. They’ve brought in a speaker from the foundation to try and separate us all from our money. I doubt I’ll make it home before midnight.”
“Okay. Call me later? Tomorrow?” I asked as the background noise picked up.
“Sure. Talk then,” he said and disconnected.
I had really wanted to tell Logan about my marriage before my dinner with Nick. No such luck.
Five minutes later, I was sitting across from my future ex-husband.
And I was doing everything I could think of to distract myself from his handsome face until I could get my nerves to settle.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked.
“Well, this contraption is what they call a smart phone,” I said. “You aim this little circle thing around and then push this other little circle thing here and it takes this newfangled thing called a picture.”
“Funny. Why?”
“I’m going to email these and some of the exterior to my restaurant team. This would be a great theme for a New York City steakhouse.” I hoped that the photos would turn out in the dark setting.
This was going to be the next theme for my Manhattan restaurant. I could already see my pretentious friends dressing up in their imposter cowboy boots and designer pearl-snapped Western shirts to eat a hundred-dollar steak.
The interior was a dimly lit space with walls paneled in the same barnwood as the exterior. Chandeliers made of animal antlers hung from the wood-beamed ceiling and gave off a soft, yellow glow.
We were seated at a booth upholstered in a deep maroon vinyl and the table was covered with charred cattle brands. I was glad for the high-backed booth seat, which would provide us privacy from eavesdropping neighbors.
“Is that how you make your money? Through restaurants?” Nick asked.
“No. I make my money from teaching.” My attorney’s warning was still fresh and I didn’t want to talk about money should our divorce get nasty.
“Right,” he said, not believing me.
We sat for a few moments in silence until our waitress arrived to deliver my red wine and Nick’s Coors Light. I was grateful to have the glass to hold and occupy my twitching fingers.
“That guy who called you on Friday. Who is he?”
“My boyfriend, Logan.”
“Are you two serious?” he asked.
“Yes. We lived together in New York.”
“If you’re serious, why’d you leave him?” he asked.
“It’s a long story, but it basically boils down to me needing to get out of the city. Logan just made partner at his law firm and he couldn’t jeopardize his career to follow me to the Wild West.”
“Hmm,” he muttered.
We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. I dutifully sipped my wine and studied the designs on the tabletop, avoiding eye contact with Nick.
“Did you talk to your lawyer again?” he asked.
“No, but I’ll touch base with him as he drafts our divorce papers. Once they’re complete, he can work directly with your attorney if you’d like. I’ll just need his or her name and phone number.”
That got me another “hmm” before he drained the rest of his beer. He must have been a regular at The Black Bull because the waitress didn’t bother asking if he wanted another, she just brought it over.
