Back alone in my room, it began to sink in.
The asshole believed me. He had just been messing with me the whole time.
Worse, he wasn’t going to sign the papers. He wasn’t going to make this easy for me, after all the stress and worry I had gone through, after everything.
My chance to divorce him and be done with the whole embarrassing episode was right there, but he refused to help me.
Asshole. Arrogant, self-center, unbelievable dickhead.
What made him think he could say no? We weren’t married, not really. Sure, okay, legally we were married, but what did that even mean? It wasn’t like we were in love or had any sort of connection. The man had disappeared into the jungle as soon as the vacation was over, rendering any sort of relationship impossible.
Yet somehow he felt that he could call me “wife” and move into my house and boss me around. Who the hell was this guy?
Aside from my husband and my stepbrother, of course.
I was practically fuming as I sat at my desk, scrolling through Twitter.
some people need to understand BOUNDARIES I tweeted. I was so annoyed that I had succumbed to random acts of vague social media complaining. I hated when people said really generic things that were obviously aimed at specific people, but I couldn’t help myself.
sometimes what you want isn’t as important as you think it is I tweeted next. It made me feel a little bit better, even if nobody understood what I was talking about. Actually, that was part of it. I liked that I could complain about my secret in public without anyone knowing anything.
quit being so arrogant. You’re not that cool and motorcycles are stupid. #mmaisforlosers. I grinned at that one before finally hitting send.
It didn’t change anything. I was still in the same situation as I was before, except now I had just sent out some passive-aggressive and vaguely bratty messages to a bunch of strangers. Still, it made me feel a little better to vent. Maybe I needed to give Lacey a call. She knew all about my situation and definitely loved a good bitch-session. If anyone was going to appreciate me being mean about Cole, she definitely would. Plus, I was looking forward to hearing her surprise at my insanely impossible situation.
A few minutes later, I checked my feed again and stared at what I saw. Somebody had liked my last tweet, but it wasn’t someone I recognized.
His username was FighterColeMMA.
I clenched my fists. There was no way it was him. He couldn’t be stalking me online, too, could he?
I stood up, deciding not to waste any time. I pushed open my bedroom door and then banged on his door. “Cole!” I said.
“Come in.”
The door pushed open and I was ready to shout at him, to tell him what an asshole he was being, how he couldn’t just refuse to divorce me, but it all just died on my lips. I stared in at him as he continued to do his sit-ups.
He was shirtless and had a thin sheen of sweat. I remembered that body very, very well from all those months ago. Tattoos snaked up his skin, and his muscles were ripped and tough. I wanted to tell him what a dick he was being, except it was hard when I also wanted to lick every inch of his exposed torso.
He finished his set and looked over at me. “What can I do for you, wife? Come to spend some time in our marriage bed?”
That snapped me out of it. “Are you stalking me?”
He gave me an innocent look. “What do you mean?”
“Twitter. I know you saw my tweets.”
“Not my fault your profile is public.”
My jaw dropped. It really was him. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to like a tweet that was so clearly making fun of him.
“How did you find me?”
“You used your real name.”
I let out a thin breath. Of course. All he needed to do was search for my name.
“So you refuse to let me divorce you and now you’re cyber stalking me.”
“Not exactly. You’re the one insulting me publically.”
“I wouldn’t have to do that if you would just divorce me.”
He stood up and stretched, grinning. “Why would I do that? I want to try and make our marriage work.”
“We don’t have a marriage.”
“Call me old fashioned, but I think the state would disagree with you.”
“Legally, fine. But, Cole, we’re not married and you know it.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we could give it a try.”
He moved across the room, and I could practically feel my pussy go from normal to dripping in six seconds. He was ripped and smooth and slightly sweaty in an incredible way. It wasn’t fair at all. How was I supposed to win this argument when he looked like that?
How was I supposed to divorce him when he made me feel that way?
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.