Page 31 of Then and Now (The Edge of Retaliation 3)
I meet her eyes, fists clenched. “I saw it all right. He can’t be serious? Did you read that article?”
Callie nods. “Yep, they’ve made you out to be the real villain. Cheating on him, going after his fortune, he’s a smart man. Smarter than I thought. He’s not willing to part with his stuff, is he?”
“This is exactly what I suspected when I avoided leaving him for all those years. He’s trash. The purest form. I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
My phone starts ringing on the counter and I glance over to see my mother’s name flashing on the screen. Close my eyes, I spit out a curse. “They’re never going to stop. His family. My family. They’re going to demand so many damned answers. I don’t need this; I don’t need more stress after everything that’s been happening.”
“Listen,” Callie says, walking over and placing her hands on my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll blow over. They’ll calm down.”
“It won’t, Callie,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It won’t, I promise you that. His family will lose their minds, my family will, too. They’re not going to believe me when I tell them I haven’t done anything; they’re already pissed at me for not living with him anymore. They’re going to take his side, like they always do. He’s going to have a damned swell time with this.”
Callie gives me a kind smile. “I’m sorry, honey. You don’t need this on top of everything else.”
“No,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and dialing Patrick’s number. “No, I don’t.”
“Hello, Joanne,” he answers in a casual tone, as if he hasn’t just plastered mine and Tatum’s face across the entire damned city.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Seriously, Patrick, what the fuck is wrong with you.”
“That’s not a kind way to talk to your husband.”
“Stop,” I growl. “Stop with your little act. I can’t believe you told the media that story, a story which, mind you, is not fucking true.”
“It is true, you and I both know it is. I’m tired of fighting with you, Jo. I offered you a good deal, and you wouldn’t even consider it. I’ll do this the hard way, if I have to.”
“Is that what this has come to? All those years of marriage?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
“You’re going to push me into a fucking corner here, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I grit my teeth and hiss, “What’s the deal?”
“Oh, you want to hear it now?”
“Patrick, for fuck’s sake, what’s the fucking deal? Do you want the drama of all this to follow you around or do you want me to sign the damn paper so we can both get the hell out of each other’s lives?”
He goes silent for a minute, then says, “I’ll give you ten million in cash, we’ll sell the house, but you can have the furniture, I don’t need it. You can keep your car and any savings you currently have in our bank accounts. I keep the business and everything else that comes with it.”
I blink a few times.
It’s a good deal, better than I first thought, and right now, I just want it all to go the hell away. “Deal,” I say, not even coming back with a negotiation. Patrick is a rich man, I could get double, probably triple, hell even more, but I don’t want to.
I just want to be free.
I’m so damned tired.
So damned drained.
I’m sick of this place.
“I’ll send the papers over for you to sign.”
I hang up the phone without another word and turn to Callie, meeting her eyes and saying in a strong, determined voice, “When are we leaving?”
It’s time to kiss this place goodbye.
Once and for all.
NOW
Two years later
12
CALLIE
“I’m here, I’m here!” I say, rushing through the front doors of the incredibly awesome tattoo shop Jo just got a new job at.
She’s been wanting to learn to tattoo for such a long time, but she’s not been able to get a chair anywhere, or a place willing to look at her stuff. She’s always been an incredible artist, even back when we were younger, but she’s never done anything with her talent. Her marriage to Patrick was always at the top of her list, keeping her busy.
“God, could you be any later?” she gasps, flicking her hair to the side and studying me with those piercing eyes. “My first day in the chair, my first client, and you’re bloody late?”
I give her a big grin, just as the back door opens and the guy who owns the shop comes out. I stare at him, like I do every damn time I come in here, which to be fair is only twice, but god, he has the power to stop you in your tracks. He’s … I don’t know … terrifying. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Everything above.
He is a solid six-feet tall, and is built like a statue, with thick biceps and broad shoulders. He’s covered in ink, the eccentric designs running all the way down to his fingers. No doubt under those clothes, too. His skin is olive, the prettiest damn olive I’ve ever seen. The rest of him though, damn, it’s not pretty, it’s fucking perfection.
