Page 30 of Love at First Ink

Wife? Did he say wife?The word repeated over and over in his head like an obnoxious mantra. Marisol was a married woman. He had taken a married woman on a date and was about to help her put Snowball’s things together. Where would she have taken him? Surely a married couple would livetogether—did she just hope her husband wasn’t home so she could sneak in Cisco like a forbidden fruit she just had to taste?

Hurt and confusion must have shown in his expression because Archie smirked at him. Weird reaction for a man who just found his wife cheating.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Marisol pushed past Cisco, Snowball still in her arms as she approached Archie. She stood just a few inches shorter than him, but that didn’t stop her from getting into his face. “I am not your wife. I haven’t been your wife in the last two years. If you would hurry up and sign those damn divorce papers, we would both be free. I do not and will never want you, Archie.”

Archie’s lips twisted into a maniacal smile, like he had an ace up his sleeve they didn’t know about. “Whatever you say, Wife. I'm sure I’ll see you around shortly. In the meantime, be careful who you spend your time with. You never know who is watching.” With those cryptic words, Archie left, disappearing into the throng of people.

He vanished as swiftly as he came. His abrupt departure uneased Cisco.

He stared after Archie as he left, both confused and irrationally annoyed. His anger only grew when he saw Marisol visibly shake, her bottom lip quivering. “Marisol…” he said, reaching for her.

Before he could make contact, Marisol stepped away. “I’m going to wait in your car.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried around the corner and out of sight. She left Cisco alone with his thoughts and anger, wondering about the hostile history between Marisol and Archie.

CHAPTER 14

Marisol

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.Marisol repeated the mantra all the way through the busy restaurant and out to Cisco’s car, which he mercifully left unlocked. She felt the eyes of everyone she passed bore into her, judging her every move.

Who saw that altercation? How was Archie going to spin this one? What did Cisco think of her?

The first tear rolled down her cheek. Followed by another and another until she couldn’t hold back the dam any longer. Silent sobs racked her body as she clutched Snowball to her chest like a life support. Her cat purred once, licking Marisol’s face. It was both gross and strangely comforting.

Every time she thought she found something good in her life, there was always someone else there to pull the rug out from under her. To remind her that she had very little autonomy when it came to her own life and future. There was always someone else pulling the strings like a puppet master, and she had no choice but to go along with it. It was just easier that way.

Archie was a man who thrived on control—meticulous, calculating, and unwilling to let anything slip through his fingers. He cared about appearances just as much as her mother did, maybe even more. It was one of the reasons she suspected he was deliberately dragging out the divorce.

The Roberts name wasn’t just a name; it was a legacy, a symbol of power and prestige that carried weight in their community. Being tied to the family meant influence, doors opening that otherwise remained closed, and a level of respect that couldn’t be bought—only inherited. Before Archie married into the Roberts family, he was just another wealthy man, someone with money but no real standing among the elite. But now? Now he was a wealthy man with connections, someone whose presence commanded attention simply because of the name he was attached to.

And he wasn’t about to give that up. Letting her go meant losing his grip on the very thing that had elevated him beyond just another rich businessman. Prestige, power, influence—it was all wrapped up in his marriage to her, and Archie would fight tooth and nail before he let any of it slip away.

Marisol wasn’t sure how long she had been alone, but when she heard the door open to her left, she quickly dabbed at her eyes. It did little to hide the fact that she had been crying. Her makeup was a lost cause at this point; she just hoped she didn’t look like a clown. She certainly felt like one.

Cisco got in, the car instantly filling with his piney scent, but also the Italian herbs and marinara from the pizza. He leaned back to place the pizza in the small back seat. How he found a spot that wasn’t cluttered with her cat purchases, she didn’t know.

The silence hung heavy between them when he turned back around to grip the steering wheel. She knew she shouldsay something. Anything to defuse the tension and explain herself, but the words wouldn’t come. She was scared and didn’t like this feeling one bit. Things were quickly spiraling out of control, and she no longer had the reins on this situation.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re married?”

They spoke at once, both meeting the gaze of the other. Marisol couldn’t make out what Cisco was thinking. He wore a mask of indifference. The only sign that pointed to his anger was the way he gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were turning white.

Her story with Archie was a long, complicated one that she rarely got into with anyone other than Alice. Mostly because she knew Alice couldn’t judge her and wouldn’t share her story with anyone else. Not that she was worried Cisco would share her story with others, but it didn’t make it any easier to talk about. She should have told him about Archie before she agreed to the first date. The fear of him turning her down immobilized her.

“Technically? Yes,” she whispered, just as Cisco cursed in Spanish under his breath. His mask slipped, and she could see the anger and hurt displayed on his face. It spurred her on to say more because she couldn’t have Cisco getting the wrong impression of her.

“But we have been separated for two years. Married for three. Honestly? I wanted to divorce him the moment we married, but I stayed with him one year out of fear. Fear about what others would think.” By others, she meant her mother. Always her mother.

“The moment I asked for a divorce, I signed the papers. He has yet to sign anything because it wouldn’t look good for hisimage,” Marisol said, tears prickling her eyes once again. “I’m working with my lawyer to finally be rid of him, but Archie is a powerful man, and my mother adores him. She doesn’t want me to divorce him because it would look bad on the family, and my hands are tied, Cisco. I’m trying so hard to be free of him, but I feel like I’m the only one fighting for me.”

The heaviness settled in her chest, and she felt like she could no longer breathe. She didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Cisco or anyone who wasn’t Alice. She had to be composed. Proper. Perfect. Never let anyone see that mask slipping. Those were the words her mother beat into her brain over and over throughout her life.

But a person could only take so much. Be told how to feel and act for so long until something inside of them fundamentally broke. She refused to cry in front of anyone. She hated showing that level of vulnerability, but to her absolute horror, tears flowed freely down her face again. The more she tried to fight them, the harder they fell.

“Fuck, Marisol…” Cisco’s concerned voice rang out. At least she thought he sounded concerned. She couldn’t be certain because she didn’t want to spare a glance and risk crying even harder.

Stop. Fucking. Crying.

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