Page 35 of Chasing Forever

I had a feeling this woman was not someone you wanted to fuck with when she was cranky.

“Would it be a problem if there was something happening between us?” I asked, the words spilling free before I could stop them.

Merritt’s gaze whipped to mine, her eyes wide with surprise at my question.

I cleared my throat and tugged at my collar. “I mean, for the sake of argument.” I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but now that they were out there, I was desperate for the answer.

Chapter Nineteen

Merritt

With the way my heart was racing, I was surprised it hadn’t jumped right out of my chest to dance a jig on the table right in front of us.

“Any other couple, I might say yes,” Rochelle answered, pulling me out of a tailspin before I could get sucked down too far. I turned back to the woman who’d been intimidating the hell out of me since the moment we met. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that Rochelle Winslow wasn’t a shark in the courtroom. “As long as nothing started before you left the state?—”

“It didn’t,” I interrupted. “I didn’t even know him before I left.”

She tapped her pen about the table. “Well then, given the fact that you currently have a restraining order against him for domestic abuse, which was filed along with actual photographic evidence, his attorney could try to make a big deal out of this, but I don’t think it would sway a judge.”

Why did that response make my heart flip? It almost felt like we were being given permission or something.

I gave my head a shake to clear it of those thoughts. This wasn’t the time or the place for something like that.

“Merritt, I know this might be hard, but if it’s possible, I’d like to hear about your relationship with your husband.”

“Estranged,” Tristan said on a growl. My fingers on his knee clenched, hoping to ease the strain in his features.

“Estranged husband,” she amended with another cock of that one brow. I don’t know how she did it, arching one brow at a time, and without a single wrinkle creasing her forehead. She shifted her focus back to me. “If you could tell me what it was like, as much or as little as you’re comfortable sharing. I need to get a sense for how bad things were and the kind of man your estranged husband is.”

That familiar anxiety began creeping in. I brought both my hands onto the table and clenched them into fists until my nails dug into my palms. Before I could break the skin or make sores, Tristan was there, using his thumb to ease my fingers apart and rub soothing circles against my skin. I didn’t realize what I was doing until he stopped me, and that this wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

He paid attention and was there to stop me from hurting myself, even if I was unaware I was doing it.

I curled my fingers around that thumb and held on like it was my lifeline as I answered, “I’ll tell you as much as I can. The problem is, if you ask anyone else, my husb”—I caught myself and back-pedaled—“Warren is this perfect, nice, caring man to many. He has a gift for charming anyone into thinking he has a heart of gold.”

Only I knew the truth. At least until a handful of people started trickling into my life who believed me.

Something flashed across her face, but she schooled her features before I could recognize what it was. “Rest assured, that’s not something you have to worry about. I’m familiar with Warren Bell.” It almost looked like she sneered as she said his name. “I’m familiar with that whole good old boys club he’s a part of, and I’m aware of how those men function.”

“I take it you’re not a fan,” Tristan pointed out.

“Of that group of spoiled, rich, white, trust fund bros who expect the world to be handed to them on a silver platter? Um, no. I am most definitely not a fan. I attended college and law school with a number of them. It was hard to keep their true natures in check when they kept getting bested by a woman. An educated black woman, to be precise. I checked every box of the things they hated, and they couldn’t stand it that I made better grades or that the professors liked me more. They got off on saying it was because I spread my legs, when the truth was, I wasn’t a lazy, self-important pain in the ass.”

She couldn’t have described Warren and his friends any better if they’d been standing right in front of her holding signs listing all their worst traits.

My brows dipped into a worried frown. “Are you sure you want to do this? To deal with Warren after all of that? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to go down that road again.”

“Are you kidding?” For the first time since meeting her, she showed a hint of emotion. Her lips stretched into a smile so predatory it sent a shiver down my spine. “I’ll take any chance I can get to knock those preppy golden buddies down a few pegs. I’m all in. By the time I finish with him, that man will be lucky if he’s left with the clothes on his back.”

“I don’t need all that. I just want to be done with him. I want a divorce.”

“Oh, sweetie, you’ll get it. Believe me. But I’m also going to make it hurt.”

The meeting lasted another hour and a half, and by the time it was over, I was drained. Having to relive those six miserable years syphoned off every bit of energy I had, leaving me feeling numb. With every story I told, the energy radiating off of Tristan grew heavier and heavier until the air in the room felt suffocating. If I thought for a second that I could get away with it, I’d crawl into my bed as soon as we got back to the house and pull the covers over my head for the next two days. But I already knew Tristan wouldn’t allow that.

As it was, I felt his eyes drilling into the side of my face every few minutes as we drove away from my new lawyer’s office.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the office,” Tristan said a while later, breaking the silence that had filled the Suburban the entire drive so far. “If you don’t want to talk, feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but I need to know you’re all right.”

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