Page 39 of Reformation

I was wrong. I was so very, very wrong.

Garrett Dixon wearing a tuxedo, without a doubt, is the sexiest man I will ever see in my life.

“Holy shit,” Charlie says. “I might be married to one of the Dixon boys, so I might be a little biased, but damn, they do have some good genes.”

She’s absolutely right. It’s like his tuxedo was made for him. The jacket is tailored perfectly for his broad shoulders. The pants leave nothing to the imagination while not being overly tight.

And I’m not the only one who is taking notice.

Garrett is chatting with the table he is serving, his tray empty after having given all the glasses of champagne out. I know he has to be nice to them, that’s his role today as one of the waiters, so it’s completely ridiculous that a pang of jealousy hits me when I see him give a kiss on the cheek to a woman at the table. It’s even more ludicrous that my face turns hot when a woman twice his age reaches around and pinches his ass.

“Yup. Just friends. Because friends always want to claw an old lady’s eyes out because of roaming hands,” Charlie says, grabbing my elbow. “Let’s go, killer. I have a feeling you’re about to throw a shoe.”

Charlie starts to guide me away, but I can’t help it. I take one more look over my shoulder.

I wish I hadn’t. A gorgeous woman with sleek black hair is putting her arm through his and is giving him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

“Who is that?” I ask.

Charlie stops, looks, then lets out a sound that can only be described as annoyance.

“That would be Annika. The almost ex. Come on. We have to go. And you aren’t going to want to see anything involving her.”

She’s right. I don’t. But I do.

I’m so screwed.

* * *

Garrett

I need a shower.

I feel… violated. Dirty. Used.

Who knew drunk socialites could make you feel like such a piece of meat?

The fashion show has started, which means my duties are done. Apparently, one year a woman was so drunk she offered up a million dollars for a dress. The husband accused Boomer and Kelly of getting her too drunk to make sound decisions. So now, booze stops when the wallets come out. That is fine with me. It gives me an open invitation to watch Paige once the show starts.

I didn’t hesitate to say yes when Boomer asked me if I could be one of the servers at the champagne lunch. However, my newfound friend neglected to tell me that I’d be pawed at like I’m a stripper in aMagic Mikeshow. Or that my soon-to-be ex-wife would be there.

Not that he would have known. But I should have. I was no stranger to the crowd I was serving, and this event screamed Annika Dixon.

When I first started making my rounds, I realized that I recognized most of the women or knew their husbands. I was so shocked when I felt the first pinch of my ass that I almost dropped my full tray of champagne. That shock went away when I turned around to find out that Evelyn Robinson, the wife of one of my most influential donors, was the one who gave my ass the squeeze.

I made sure to avoid her table for the rest of the afternoon. I was pretty sure if I went back she’d ask me to re-examine her hip.

It was easy to avoid her because she was sharing a table with Annika. When I approached the table, before the ass squeeze, Annika was not seated, or I would have stayed far away. Once she put her hand through my arm, I instantly knew who it was. I wanted to recoil at her touch, but I didn’t for appearance’s sake. Old habits die hard, I guess. Still putting on the appearance of being happy.

I don’t know what she told the other women about our marriage, and I’m sure someone realized I wasn’t wearing my ring. I honestly don’t care. All that mattered to me was not causing a scene at Boomer and Kelly’s event. I was barely able to hold back my gag when she kissed me on the cheek. At least I was able to quickly remove myself and get back to the business of serving champagne. Or so I thought.

“So, which one is catching your eye? Maybe I can figure out which one you’re replacing me with?”

Annika’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard as she stands next to me in the back, away from the view of any prying eyes.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’m actuallynotcheating on you?”

“Actually, it is. By my calculations, that means you haven’t had sex in more than six months. The Garrett I know can’t last that long. And as long as I can prove it was before you asked me for the separation, I get my money.”

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