Page 35 of The Perfect Divorce

“There’s no rush.”

He nods and continues eating, clearing his plate in less than a minute. “You must have been starving,” I say, collecting it from him.

Alejandro licks his upper lip. “Sorry, force of habit. If you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat.” He polishes his OJ off in one big gulp.

“What was it like on the inside?”

His eyes lock with mine, and he’s quiet for a moment as though he’s trying to decide how to answer my question. “Let’s just say I never wanna go back.”

I’ve noticed Alejandro’s not much of a talker, or at least not with me. But he does like to ask questions. I extend my hand, taking the glass from him.

“Well, that choice is yours.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I think of Adam. He didn’t have a choice because I made it for him. Sometimes we suffer the consequences of our own actions, and sometimes we suffer the consequences of others’. Then again, in a way, Adam sealed his own fate.

“Ya know”—Alejandro crosses his arms over his chest—“I don’t think I had a choice the first time around.”

I tilt my head, intrigued by his answer. “And why’s that?”

“I was young. My father had run out on us, and my mother wasn’t capable of being a mother. She chose her own vices over her children, and it left me looking for a place to fit in, to be accepted, to feel like a part of something. People looking for belonging find it fast and easy within a gang,” he says, barely able to meet my gaze.

His answer reminds me of my own upbringing. My father passing. My mother spiraling, using drugs to cope. Losing everything. Being forced to live in motels. Her bringing strange men back to our room, ones that would give her a fix in return for the only thing she had left to offer them... herself. And sometimes, even that wasn’t enough. They would look to me after she’d passed out, like I was some sort of a bonus. I always fought them off... one way or another. You do what you have to do to survive. Most of us have never had to make a choice between life and death. But I can tell you, once you do, once you’re forced to make that choice, it changes you forever.

“It’s a shame that’s what I fell into,” he adds, his gaze meeting mine.

“Yeah,” I say. “You and I aren’t so different after all. We just fell into different things.”

Alejandro offers a tight smile. “And what did you fall into, Sarah?”

“Survival.”

I don’t have to elaborate because I can see it in his eyes. He knows exactly what I mean.

TWENTY-TWO

BOB MILLER

I slam the car door behind me and look up at my house surrounded by woods. Seeing the large wraparound porch and big bay windows used to bring me joy. Now, it’s just a reminder of what I’ve lost, or rather, what Sarah’s taken from me. I know she’s behind everything. She has to be. It can’t be a coincidence that Stacy worked for the Morgan Foundation. My guess is Sarah hired her to seduce me. But what I can’t understand is why she would do that.

Brad did a little more digging and discovered that Stacy had been hired as an event staffing model for a fundraising gala put on by the Morgan Foundation six months ago. Meaning, she was a hot waitress, eye candy to get the male donors to open their pocketbooks. I wonder if that was when Sarah got the idea in her head. Maybe she caught me looking at her and decided to test me, see if I’d stay faithful. Or maybe there was something more she wanted?

Sarah was the one who suggested using that same catering and event staffing company for the celebration my firm threw to honor my being named partner. On the night of my party, Sarah said she couldn’t go because Summer was sick, and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with a sitter. I was so disappointed. No, I was pissed. At the time, I thought she didn’t want to see me in her old position, perhaps due to jealousy. But now I know why Sarah couldn’t be there. Because if she had been, how could Stacy test me?

A shooting pain in my jaw drives the thoughts away, and I realize it’s from clenching too tightly—so I relax, hold my head high, and stride toward the house. At the door, I don’t knock because it’s my home too.

“Summer,” I call as I stroll in.

There’s a glow under the bathroom door in the hallway, and I can hear the hum of the fan and the sound of running water. Just as I step foot in the kitchen, the glass sliding door opens, and Sarah enters, carrying an empty plate in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Morning, Bob,” she says, closing it behind her and walking to the sink. She’s trying to be nonchalant, pretend like nothing is wrong and that I’m the only one acting out. She did the same thing to Adam, made him crazy, while she slowly destroyed him in the background. The only difference is that I’m onto her.

A blur of movement on the back deck catches my eye, and I immediately recognize him. Case Fifty, Alejandro Perez. He carries a board over his shoulder and pauses when he catches me looking at him. Alejandro meets my gaze and nods.

I shake my head and turn my attention to Sarah. “I see you hired a criminal.”

“He’s reformed, Bob.” She rinses a plate and sets it in the drying rack. “And he was your nomination. Do you not feel confident in your selection?” Sarah glances over her shoulder at me, raising a brow.

“That’s not what I said.” I take a step farther into the kitchen, lowering my voice. “But I’m not comfortable having him around Summer.”

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