Chapter 2

Ethan shot to his feet.

"No." The word came out too fast. "No, Vivian. I'm not divorcing you."

He reached for my hand.

I pulled away.

"Because of this?" he demanded. "Because I let Chloe put lashes on Bailey?"

I stared at him.

"Nothing happened between us," he said, softer now, as if that was the part I cared about. "We haven't even held hands. She is just an intern who admires me."

I said nothing.

His voice dropped another level.

"Fine. She won't dye Bailey's fur. Happy?"

I looked at the man in front of me.

This was the boy I had met in college. The man I had married in a white dress after ten years of trusting the same face. His eyes were slightly red now, wet at the edges, and once upon a time that would have worked on me.

That was the problem with history.

It always tried to dress a fresh wound in old tenderness.

I pressed down the last bit of softness in my chest.

"The moment you let her glue lashes to my dog," I said, "you were out."

Then I went into the bedroom and locked the door.

I did not sleep.

Property would be easy enough.

The harder part was the resources I had fed him. The clients, contacts, projects, and reputation he had been using as if they were his birthright.

I did not plant trees for another woman to sit in the shade.

At a little past seven in the morning, someone knocked on the bedroom door.

Not Ethan.

A bright female voice called, "Vivian? It's already past seven. Are you still sleeping?"

I opened the door.

Chloe Lane stood there in a cream cardigan, hair curled, makeup perfect, smile sweet enough to rot teeth.

"Wow," she said, looking me up and down. "I'm so jealous. It must be amazing to sleep in every day. Some of us actually have to work for a living."

I walked past her into the living room and sat on the sofa.

"Why are you here?"

For half a second, my tone cut through her smile.

Then she recovered.

"Mr. Shaw told me you were upset about the lashes," she said. "I felt terrible, so I came over first thing to apologize. I was afraid you two might fight because of me."

She moved toward the kitchen like she belonged there.

"Let me get you something to drink."

A minute later, she came out holding a glass of orange juice.

"Last time I came over, I mentioned orange juice tastes better than watermelon juice," she said, eyes shining. "I can't believe Mr. Shaw remembered. He's honestly so thoughtful."

The smell hit me before she reached the sofa.

Citrus.

Sharp, sweet, suffocating.

My nose prickled. I sneezed twice.

"I don't drink orange juice," I said. "Leave."

Chloe kept walking.

"Come on, just take a sip. If you won't drink it, that means you haven't forgiven me."

She pushed the glass toward me.

I moved back.

A few drops splashed onto my lip.

Within seconds, red spots rose on my forearm.

The bedroom door opened.

Ethan stepped out and froze when he saw my arm.

He moved quickly then, crossing to the TV cabinet and pulling allergy tablets from the drawer.

I took them with water.

For a moment, I almost saw the old Ethan in the motion. The man who had kept oranges out of our house for ten years because my throat tightened around citrus.

Then he turned to Chloe.

"She's allergic to oranges," he said, rubbing his brow. "I told you that last time. Don't give her orange juice."

Chloe's eyes reddened instantly.

"I forgot," she whispered. "I was just so happy that you remembered my favorite drink."

Ethan's expression softened.

Of course it did.

"Don't cry," he said. "I know you didn't mean it."

Chloe sniffled, then smiled through her tears.

"I'm just touched," she said. "You kept oranges out of your home for ten years because of Vivian's allergy, but one casual comment from me and you broke the rule. It makes me feel... special."

She did not finish the sentence.

I picked up the glass.

Then I tipped it over her head.

Orange juice slid down her hair, over her cardigan, onto the floor.

Chloe screamed.

Ethan roared, "Vivian!"

He grabbed tissues from the coffee table and rushed to wipe Chloe's face.

"What happened to your manners?" he snapped. "Where is the elegant woman I married?"

Chloe looked at me over his shoulder.

Her eyes said everything her mouth was too smart to say.

So what if you poured juice on me?

He still chose me.

I smiled back.

Then I picked up my phone.

"Director Kane," I said when the call connected.

Ethan's hand stopped midair.

Chloe went still.

Kane's voice came through the speaker, warm and alert. "Vivian? Tell me."

I kept my eyes on Chloe.

"Your new intern, Chloe Lane," I said. "She glued false lashes to my dog, came to my home, and tried to force me to drink orange juice despite my allergy."

Kane understood immediately.

"I'll handle it," he said. "Right now."

I hung up.

Chloe's face changed, but she forced a laugh.

"You're just a housewife," she said. "Why would Director Kane take your call?"

Her phone rang.

She answered.

The color drained from her face.

"Human Resources?" she whispered. "What do you mean I'm terminated?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and called Kane.

"Director Kane, it's Ethan. About Chloe—"

Kane cut him off loudly enough for the room to hear.

"Ethan Shaw, have you lost your mind? You have the nerve to plead for her? I do not have the nerve to offend Senior Vice President Hart. If this mess touches me, I'll fire you first."

The living room went silent.

I looked at Chloe.

"Still waiting for him to save you?"

She stared at me with wet, furious eyes.

I lifted my chin toward the door.

"Get out."

She grabbed her bag and ran.

When I passed Ethan on my way back to the bedroom, he caught my wrist.

"Was that necessary?" he demanded. "Did you really have to bully a young girl until she lost her job?"

I pulled free.

"The divorce agreement is in your inbox," I said. "Read it and sign."