Page 4 of Archer's Awakening

My wife pointed out that, as a very wealthy woman, my client could’ve afforded to hire protection.

I tried to explain leaving an abusive marriage wasn’t always as easy as renting someone for a few hours while one removed their stuff from the marital home. Especially when one had three children.

My wife was unmoved.

My client was in a safe house and the divorce papers—along with a protective order—had been served.

I’d felt somewhat reassured, even knowing my client had a very long way to go before being safe. That her husband was a famous hockey player meant she either had more protection orless, depending on perspective. On the upside, her soon-to-be ex wouldn’t want the negative publicity of being a wife beater.

On the downside, some fans wouldn’t believe the abuse, even if my client was bruised and bloodied.

And the worst-case scenario of all would be that he killed her. He’d threatened to—on numerous occasions. Her and the kids.

So while he’d been away with the team, she’d left.

There was some irony in the fact that while I was helping one woman leave her husband, another woman was leaving me.

Of course, my wife might’ve also left because she’d fallen in love with her trainer.

Possibly.

Probably.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass. Only early November, and cold rain lashed the window. Our first major storm of the season with gusts of almost one hundred klicks. Not a night to be out. Not a night to be scooting away in cowboy boots, jeans, and a suit jacket. I chuckled.

His wide eyes as I slammed the door…

The bright lights of Vancouver tempted me. I had a trench coat. I could get dressed, grab a cab to Davie Street, and be amongst people in just a few minutes. I would have my pick of nightclubs. Surely I could find a hookup for the night.

Do you really want your first time in fifteen years to be with some rando?

Well, Chevy would’ve been a rando.

Yeah, but two cute dogs—

And enough of that line of thinking. Yes, I’d picked the guy even though he had a dick pic. Since I worried about blackmail if I’d put one up as well, I’d opted for my chest and abs. Two things I was very proud of. Less likely to be used against me. That said, everything involved risk.

Being Vancouver’s top divorce lawyer meant putting my face on a hookup app just wasn’t a good idea.

Hell, meeting up with someone before the ink was dry on my divorce papers wasn’t a good idea either. Thea would have my balls in a vise—even though the divorce was her idea. She’d learned a lot in our years together—including how to take me to the cleaners.

I was scared of the tax authorities more than I was afraid of losing half everything I owned in a divorce, so I never did anything that wasn’t strictly legal. All my assets were accounted for. The money I’d put asidejust in casewas enough to buy me out of my marriage.

I was miserable…I just didn’t want to admit it.

Well, that was very true.

After a long moment, I pulled the drapes shut.

The cocoon the silence created could’ve been stifling, but wasn’t. For the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe.

In a few weeks, your second home, in Mission City, will be finished. Then you can breathe fresh mountain air whenever you want.

The country house had been my passion project, not Thea’s. She couldn’t understand the concept of leaving Vancouver unless we were headed to Whistler to ski or to some exotic foreign destination for a vacation. Preferably a luxury resort where her biggest worries were whether to take a mai tai with her while she had a pedicure or if she should have a massage first.

Me? I’d rather see the world. Pyramids of Giza. Cobblestones in Amsterdam. Geysers near Reykjavik. Tibetan monasteries. The Great Wall of China. The Amazon rainforest.

Maybe this marriage was destined for failure. Too bad we wasted so many years making each other miserable.

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