Making His Baby(91)
“It is.” I nod harder. There was no way I was remaining attached to that asshole any longer than necessary. “It is the only option.”
“You then realize the state still recognizes you two as married.”
“It’s only a piece of paper.” My cheeks flush and the room spins, just a bit. I never liked feeling like I was in trouble, not even as a child. I wish I had a better poker face. “We’re already filed, the proceedings are going on. This is just over assets and money.”
Vivian leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. Everything about her in this moment is cross: her eyes, her lips, her brow, her arms. Everything. She may as well be a jailer, waiting to lock me in.
“You just said I looked like a woman getting her life back together.”
“A woman does not need a man to have her shit together, Kate.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Look, this just sort of… happened.” I put on a mask of ambivalence. It’s one I used a lot with David. “It’s nothing serious. It’s nothing loud. We’re quiet, I promise.”
“Who is it?”
Well. I guess I should have seen that question coming.
“Kate, if this is someone who has the power to ruin your case, this could totally destroy us. We are currently nailing this fucker to the wall because he’s a cheating bastard, okay? We are laying out a case that shows him using you and your marriage for his own personal gain, which then presents you as a role in all the assets he has in his Swiss account. I thought this is what you wanted.”
“It is.” A fire nips at my veins. “This is what I want. He only has that stupid account because of me, and he moved everything over to it. He doesn’t deserve all the money, Vivian. This was my life, too. My career, too. I dedicated everything to him and he swept the vault clean.”
“Good. Remember that. Now who is the mystery lover, so I can prepare for the backlash when this inevitably hits the news?”
“It won’t hit the news. I told you, we’re careful.”
“Sure, right. Everyone thinks they are careful. Until they aren’t. Do you know why family law is so lucrative in this town, Kate? Because no one is as careful as they claim. This has the potential to ruin you. Do you understand that?”
“Everything in this town can ruin you. What’s a sex partner?”
“In a divorce case? Everything. Don’t get involved in the same bullshit as David, Kate. You’re better than that.”
“This is not the same as that asshole.” My mask can’t block out the punctuating anger. “David fucks anything with a pulse. He’s been out almost every night with a different woman on his arm. He had at least two girlfriends while we were married. He goes to strip clubs, dance clubs, fancy fucking bars with piles of groupies. Everyone knows he’s out banging half the city. This is not the same thing.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Kate. And his numerous transgressions don’t overshadow any you could populate. You don’t think the media isn’t chomping at the bit for a chance to see Golden Girl Kate McArthur fall from her horse? This place thrives on lives being ruined. They only need one nibble that you’re having an affair and it’s over.”
“I’m not cheating.” I spit the foul words out. The beach looks fuzzy and feels disorienting, not soothing. “That’s David’s thing. David cheats. I’m simply moving on. This is weeks from being over. The only thing in our way right now is paperwork.”
“Sure, sure.” Vivian cocks an eyebrow at me. “Paperwork and a fuckload of money. End it.”
I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. She’s right, but I don’t think I have it in me to walk away. Not anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KATE
The bath tub doesn’t provide me any answers tonight. Nor has it for the last several nights. Since Vivian told me to cut things off with Eric, I’ve been walking the beach for hours and soaking in the tub for almost as long.
It’s not often the water lets me down, but this week it has.
Staving off Vivian’s storm is no small feat, either. She’s livid I won’t tell her who I’m occasionally sharing a bed with and has threatened to send a private detective after me. That alone has kept me quiet. Lily and I have worked on the gala several nights out of my dining room simply because I was too scared to step foot outside.
It’s not so easy, deciding how to live my life. Objectively, it looks so simple: tell Eric we are no longer sleeping together and go back to late nights with dirty Thumblr posts and a vibrator. Objectively, I should sit at home and let David continue to look like the world’s biggest asshole so I can sweep the floor clean with his big, stupid face.