Page 33 of Sugar Pie
His shoulder brushed mine again. “How long were you married, Kerry?”
With Warren, it was like I had a friend. “Three years, but it felt like a lifetime. I spent a year planning the wedding, hoping somehow a better offer would come.”
I explained how I’d graduated college, got married, and never did anything all in one shot. I gulped my beer, as I wasn’t used to sharing so much.
Then he said, “I was in Europe, studying ancient architecture.”
I put my glass down and laughed as I met his gaze. “So that’s why you didn’t save me? Not because we didn’t know each other then.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Yes, absolutely. I’m your hero.”
I wanted to believe him. I ached to be his. But I ignored the flutters of my heart as best I could. “Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re driving home because I want one more drink.”
He raised a hand in the air and said, “I’ll get you home with your honor intact.”
A beer wasn’t going to leave me messed up and in need of a hero, but he was right. The night was fun. I sighed. “Honor. I like that, Warren.”
When the waitress returned, I ordered a second beer. I liked how my husband and my mother weren’t there, cautioning me about my health and the dangers of carbs. Warren acted as if I was important to him, and that was enough.
I didn’t need a hero. I just wanted to be near him.
15
The former housewife of a doctor and a trillionaire heir should be easier to find, but don’t worry, readers, I promise I’ll home in on them soon. Stealing a respectable doctor’s wife away from him should be the work of some pool boy, not a man who has more than kings at their disposal but no honor.
Gossip and burn the rich.
Yours truly,
Regina, your gossip goddess you can’t escape from.
Warren
The next day, we walked along the property Kerry had selected, a more expensive one than we’d discussed, and she pitched me her idea of a lakefront division, which would upsell all the homes. The real estate agent walked toward us, and Kerry quickly mapped out how she envisioned the plan. I could imagine the streets she described and four small lakefront beaches with pits for barbeques and gatherings.
At the end, I half wanted to kiss her, but instead, I hugged her and said, “Your idea about a lake here is smart.”
Our agent joined us in the middle of the empty field and asked, “So you and your wife are taking the property?”
With Kerry as my wife, we would never have to split anything. I blinked and ignored the comment, though my heart beat faster. “Yes.”
Kerry stared at me but said nothing.
The agent smiled and picked up his cell phone as he walked away. “I’ll make the offer.”
We walked out of the field and back to the old truck I had no intention of fixing or changing. But a thought nagged at me: I hadn’t told Kerry about my serious cash, and lies weren’t my thing. I needed to be honest with her.
I missed parts of my old life. From working with my hands and time, I was a new man already, and I didn’t need to see anything else through. Being a Norouzi was an honor.
I had to explain it all to Kerry and bring her into my life.
I opened her door, and she slid in, but when I joined her, she laughed and said, “Neither one of us are wearing a ring. We probably should have corrected him.”
“You’d be a great wife.” I started the engine, and my heart thumped as if I’d said the wrong thing, so I quickly asked, “What did you do with your ring?”
She rolled her manual window down and breathed in fresh air. “I left it in the car.”
I blinked. No woman in my life had ever been that brutal with me. The worst for me had been being ghosted. As I put the car into Drive, I said, “Good for you. At least you were clear.”
