My fist pounds against his door, and after a minute, Trevor opens it as he wraps a robe around his body.
Was he upstairs fucking her? Is she here?
“Garrett? Dude, what the fuck?”
And there it is. He has no clue why I’m here.
Good.
“You know what, I’ve been saying that exact phrase over the past twelve hours on repeat. What the fuck, Trevor. What in the actual fuck?”
I let myself into his overpriced condo, and until now, I didn’t realize what horrible taste in décor my business partner had. I was with him when he bought that ugly-as-fuck statue of a dog. Why did I let him get that?
“I have no clue what you’re talking about. And…” He looks up his stairs, I’m assuming checking for Annika. “Now really isn’t a good time.”
“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t. I’m guessing I woke you up. So sorry, friend. I figured you were going to have a late morning. A night out after Marciano’s usually has me tuckered out as well.”
His face drops and his eyes go wide at my words.
Bingo.
“Listen, man, I can explain.”
“Explain? Please do, Trevor. I’d love for you to explain. I’m here for you to explain. Please, tell me how long you’ve been fucking my thankfully, soon-to-be ex-wife? Let me guess. She told you she had a golden pussy and you had to find out for yourself?”
I give Trevor credit; he doesn’t try to bullshit or stall to come up with some sort of elaborate story. He looks guilty. Good. He should. He takes a seat on his couch, his head hanging low. To his credit, he does at least look me in the eye before beginning.
“It started around Christmas.”
“Ha!” The laugh that comes out of me is straight evil. “So, let me get this straight. After you picked up my near-dead body from the beach and took me to the hospital, you decided you deserved an atta-boy fuck, so you went to my wife to get it? Or maybe you thought she’d be so grateful that you saved my life she’d suck your dick in gratitude?”
I see him wince at my words, but I don’t care. The only reason I don’t punch him is because he actually did me a favor by allowing me to speed my divorce up.
“It wasn’t like that. It was the Mayor’s Christmas Eve ball. You know that donors are always giving at Christmas. End-of-the-year tax write-offs for them and all. I figured you would have wanted me there.”
He stops to gather his thoughts, and I have a feeling I know what’s coming next. “I saw Annika. Which shocked me because you know… you were in the hospital. She told me how sad she was about your condition, and that she was only there to take her mind off of you. We started talking and… well, one thing led to another.”
Really? One thing led to another with your best friend’s wife? What the fuck kind of high school bullshit reasoning is that?
“And ever since?”
He nods. “Yeah, ever since.”
“The girl you were talking to me about in our office?”
“Yeah, it was her.”
As if on cue, a voice that now grates on my last nerve comes from the staircase.
“Baby? Who was that? Did you make me my morning smooth—”
Annika’s words fall flat as she sees me sitting across from Trevor.
“Is that a new robe?” I ask, sarcasm oozing from my mouth. “Did I buy that, or did he?”
I thought I knew all of Annika’s expressions by now, but this one… this one is different. It’s like a combination of angry, shocked, sick, and… speechless? Basically, she looks like she’s pissed and sucking on a lemon after a three-day bender.
I can’t wait to divorce this woman.
“Garrett? What are you doing here? I was just… Trevor was…”
I stand, because I’m over being in this house with these people.
“I know everything, Annika. You don’t need to try and cover it up. Be ready for a call from my lawyer tomorrow. You’ll be getting the divorce papers by the end of the day. I’m really glad we already covered what happens if one of us cheats in the prenup. This will make everything go much faster. We. Are. Done.”
I get up to leave before I say anything that will get me in trouble, when I hear footsteps chasing me down.
“Garrett,” Trevor calls. I stop because—I don’t know why, I just do.
“What’s going to happen to the practice?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, because fuck if I know. I’ve been so focused on the two of them and what that would mean for the divorce, that I didn’t even begin to think about Innovative.
“You keep your distance and I’ll keep mine. Let me get divorced first, and then we’ll figure it out.”
He nods, probably thankful I didn’t say that I was going to try to take it from him.
“Oh, and Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
“She’s your problem now.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paige
I hate Garrett Dixon.
I mean, I don’t. Not really. It takes a lot for me to hate someone, and he’s not there yet.
But man, is he creeping up on my list.
He left my house Sunday with a kiss on the cheek, a warm smile, and a promise to call later in the day. And silly me, I actually thought he would.
I shouldn’t have, though, and I honestly hate that I’m mad at him. The man caught his wife and business partner together and was about to go confront them. I can’t imagine the emotional toll that takes on a person, so I get that he never called or texted.
Then I didn’t hear from him on Monday. Or Tuesday.
It’s now Wednesday, and I don’t know whether to be angry or sad that he hasn’t reached out. I almost asked Cullen today how he was, but asking a student for information on the guy you like is a level of desperation I’m not at yet.
I’m figuring that level will hit by Friday.
“Why don’t you just call him?” Cassie asks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You keep looking at your phone every five minutes. You haven’t talked to him since,” Cassie looks over to Anthony, who is sitting at one of the desks, badly pretending to do his science homework but is absolutely taking in every word we are saying, “he left your house after the thing when you guys did the thing after he found out about the thing. I get that you wanted to give him space, and that he said he’d get in touch. You obviously want to talk to him. So why not just call or text him?”
“Because I… I’m not. I’m also not having this conversation with you in front of Anthony.”
“You can talk around me, Miss Blackstone. Mom and her friends talk about grown-up stuff all the time when they think I’m not listening. Actually, can you tell me why it’s bad to be thirsty? My mom said this girl she worked with that she doesn’t like was thirsty. Why wouldn’t she just get a drink of water so everyone would like her?”
Cassie nearly spits out her water. “How about you get back to these skeletal diagrams? That way Miss Blackstone can go back to staring at her phone.”
I hate my best friend right now even though she’s right. I should call him. Or just send him a text. But I don’t. Because every time I pick up the phone I wonder if I’m being this pathetic, needy girl who got kissed by a boy, fell for some sweet words, and now can’t go a day without talking to him. I refuse to be that person.