Page 54 of Minted

James blinks. “To who?”

“Quintano.” Now I’m getting annoyed. I start walking toward my car. He can follow me. “Did you complain about the whole thing being outdoors?”

“No, I don’t mean—” He’s trotting after me, and it’s a little satisfying. Until he grabs my wrist and spins me around.

I nearly lose my footing. “Geez, James. What?”

“I’m sorry.” He swallows. “I screwed up with Kristy. I know I did.”

I blink. “I’m not upset anymore, and I’m sorry to hear things are rocky, but I hardly think I’m the right person to give you relationship advice.”

“Barbara, I still love you.”

Oh. He’s saying being with Kristy is the mistake. That I did not expect. After the last few days, after my turmoil over Bentley, after trying my hardest to break through with the girls. . .for some reason this strikes me as really, really funny. “You. . .can’t possibly be serious.” I start to laugh. I mean, I get it under control, but it’s comical.

Luckily, my phone bings, providing me a distraction.

It’s Bentley. TELL ME YOU GOT TO YOUR CAR. TELL ME THAT CREEP LEFT YOU ALONE.

My fingers fly over the keys. ACTUALLY, HE JUST PROFESSED HIS LOVE TO ME. I’m sure Bentley will find it as humorous as I do.

“Barbara.”

My head snaps up. “James, you’re drunk. Go home to Kristy and sleep it off.”

“I’m not drunk,” he says. “I’ve been drinking too much lately, because I felt guilty at first, and then because I realized I’d screwed up. Badly.”

“Well, that’s a real bummer,” I say. “Because there’s nothing here to save.” I gesture between us. “We’re already divorced, remember?”

“Get dinner with me,” he says. “Tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” I say.

“Why not? We don’t have a holiday party. It’s a Sunday. Are you going out with him? You just like him because he’s minted. You must see that.”

“I’m sorry, because he’s—what?”

“Minted,” James says. “Filthy rich. Loaded.”

“I think ‘minted’ may be a British word, because I’ve never heard it.”

He ignores my hangup with a word that sounds like it would make a great title for an epic holiday romance about a super hot, super rich, debonaire man.

“Barbara, if Bentley was poor, you wouldn’t be paying him any attention. And don’t forget that he has always had a new girl every weekend. You’re just a temporary distraction to him.”

“I hardly think that you—”

“Just spare me one night. We were married for close to two years. You can give me one night.”

“I can’t,” I say again. “I have a party tomorrow at Seren and Dave’s.” The lie just rolls off my tongue.

“I miss them,” he says. “I’ll come to the party. We can talk there. I think if you just give me a chance to explain—”

“There you are.” Bentley jogs up, draping his coat around my shoulders, like he did with my own coat earlier. “Did you hear the temperature’s dropping ten degrees tonight?” He shakes his head. “I can’t have my girl freezing to death.” He glares at James, who finally mutters something to himself and walks off.

“It’s not that cold.” I shrug his coat off and try to pass it back.

“Please tell me you aren’t considering—”

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