“Sorry about that!” Meg called down, not even trying to hide her grin.
Chelsea looked up again, her eyes narrowing as recognition set in. “Wait for a second…” She looked from Meg to me then back again. “Is that two-backed Meghan Galloway?” she cackled.
“Don’t be so fucking rude, Chelsea,” I growled.
Chelsea waved away my threat. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Adam. It’s only a joke.”
Meg waved in an exaggerated gesture one reserves for small children. “Hi, Chelsea. How are you?”
Chelsea’s smile was brittle. “I’d be a lot better if you hadn’t covered me in paint. But you’ve never been very good at holding onto things.”
Shit, things were getting nasty very quickly.
“Chelsea—”
“Is that a new nose?” Meg asked, cutting me off. She cocked her head to the side. “I remember yours being much larger.” Her tone was all sweetness and sugar. It was deceptive.
Chelsea bent down and picked up the paintbrush Meg had dropped. With exaggerated slowness, she walked over to the garbage can and threw it away.
“Chelsea, those are expensive,” I barked. Meg looked as though she were ready to come down and throttle her.
Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Oh, oops. I thought since she dropped it, she wouldn’t be able to use it again. My bad.” She looked back up at Meg with a saccharine smile. “Sorry, Two-Backed—I mean Meghan.”
Before Meg could respond, I took Chelsea by the elbow and pulled her away. I walked her to her car, which was parked on the street in front of the building. “What do you want, Chelsea?”
Chelsea ran her hand up my arm, and I recoiled from her touch. “As I said, I just wanted to see you—”
“Quit the crap. I don’t have time for this song and dance with you,” I practically yelled in her face.
Realizing I was serious, Chelsea became slightly more serious, which was difficult for her. “Fine. My lawyer wants to sit down with you and go over the finer details of our divorce agreement.” She ran her hands through my hair. “You really need a trim. You’re looking shaggy.”
I took a step back. “What finer details? I’ve been very generous.”
Chelsea closed the distance again, practically pressing her breasts into my chest. “There are just a few concerns. Nothing major. He only wants to make sure you’re not trying to screw me over.” She giggled again. “Though I told him I wouldn’t mind if you tried. Isn’t that right, baby?” she purred.
I ignored her innuendo. “There’s nothing to discuss. That agreement is more than fair.”
Chelsea’s face hardened. “I deserve a lot more than the paltry sum you’re trying to foist on me. I want the lake house. And the timeshare in Aspen.”
I threw my head back and laughed at her nerve. “Are you fucking kidding me? The lake house belonged to my grandparents. They left it to me. As for the timeshare, you hate skiing. You used to bitch every time we went out there.” I felt my anger mounting.
Chelsea wrapped her arms around my waist. “Don’t be so grumpy, darling. Maybe I can come over later, and we can hash it all out. Just the two of us. I can bring take-out from that Mexican place you love.”
I removed her arms, placing them back at her sides. “I’ll meet with your lawyer, but you need to call and make an appointment like Lena told you. Now I have to go.”
Chelsea looked thoughtful, a rare thing for her. “Meghan really should have thought twice before coming back here.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
She smiled that mean-spirited smile that I was so familiar with. “Nevermind.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed my mouth before I realized what she was doing. “I’ll be in touch about the lake house and the timeshare.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered as she got back into her car and pulled away from the curb.
When I turned around to go back and talk to Meg, she was gone. Her paint supplies had been cleaned up. She had obviously abandoned the project for the day so she could get as far away from me as possible.
Just great.
Chapter 11
Meghan
I was happy with the progress of the mural.
I had only been working on it for five days, and already, I could see an outline of the finished product. The background comprised of large swaths of yellow, orange, and red. Today I had started working on the individual images that would be the focal point of the mural: the old Miller Oak tree in the center of town that had become an enduring Southport symbol, and the winding Ohio River curled lazily along the scene. There were dotted pictures of the Golden-Winged Warbler and a white-tailed deer roughly outlined.
I stood back, gazing up at the gigantic project I had undertaken and was damn proud of myself. I was even happier because the first installment of my commission hit my bank account today. I planned to head over to the hospital when I was finished and pay off a chunk of Dad’s outstanding medical debt.
Mom would never let me do it, so I wasn’t even telling her about it. The Galloway pride was notorious, so I planned to sidestep it completely.
I wiped my hands on the cloth I kept tucked in my back pocket. It wasn’t quite as boiling today, thank God. Working outside during a mid-Atlantic heatwave wasn’t exactly ideal, but I was really enjoying the project. It was the first time in years I felt inspired.
However, one huge drawback to the situation was the building I was painting. It was nice getting to spend time with Lena. Growing up, my time and attention was spent on her older brother. Sure, we were often at the same family BBQs and social events, but given she was a whole six years younger, at the time, we didn't have a lot in common. Adam, while doting, usually treated her as the annoying younger sibling she was.
I remembered how in awe of Whitney she was. She used to follow her around, begging my sister to do her makeup. Whitney never had the patience with younger kids that I did. Most times, she would tell Lena to get lost. But on the one or two occasions, Whit had complied, Lena had acted as though the queen herself were giving her attention.
Now that we were both adults, I found that Lena was a smart, witty, fun as hell woman who I genuinely enjoyed being around. It was just a bummer that she was related to the world’s biggest knob.
I was annoyed with myself at how easily I fell into complacent familiarity with Adam. Being around him was like a jolt to the system. It was like waking up; I was alert, alive. Yet at the same time, there was something soothing about being around someone who knew you so well. Someone you shared your entire childhood with.
Adam was still as effortlessly funny and beautiful and charming as he had always been. He was still sensitive and kind. And he still made me laugh my ass off. I found that talking to him was incredibly easy when I allowed myself to forget all the ways he sucked. And damn it, we had had a moment. A real, legit moment.
I swore he was looking at me in the way I always wanted him to look at me, his blue eyes heated and taking all of me in. He mentioned Lord of the Rings. He gave me that smile, the one that melted me into a useless pile of hormone-driven goo. Then the bastard went and pulled out the pinkie thing too. The goddamned, mother fucking pinkie thing.