Page 87 of Whiskey Chase
He gave a crooked grin. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I left them alone and powered up my laptop in the little room Estelle had converted into an office on the first floor. For the first time since I’d laid eyes on Scarlett, I wondered if I was making a mistake staying here.
There were more emails from my attorney. One from Blake, the PR rep, and two from Johanna herself. They’d been sent two days apart. Just seeing her name in my inbox sent my blood pressure skyrocketing. I was a bandage ripper. I always had been, at least until my life imploded leaving me abundantly cautious... or cowardly. I opened them both and held my breath.
To: Devlin
From: Johanna
Subject: Us
I think we need to talk. Please call me.
J
To: Devlin
From: Johanna
Subject: Need to talk
I think I made a mistake.
J
I didn’t ask to be her ex. She’d given me no choice. But there was nothing gratifying about seeing that email. She had made a mistake, but I had no interest in fixing it. It had been a mistake to marry on the premise as tenuous as shared goals. People changed. Goals changed. I’d married a teammate, not a soulmate. And that teammate had let me down. I wasn’t going to hang around waiting for her to do it again.
I decided not to respond. I didn’t owe her anything. Not with the generous pre-nup that our marriage had been built upon. Not with the divorce settlement that our attorneys had hashed out. I was done.
I opened the attorney’s email next. Antonia was a partner in my family’s law firm. Smart, sharp, and mean as a snake when it came to negotiations.
To: Devlin
From: Antonia
Subject: Divorce update
The papers will be signed and filed within two weeks. You’re almost a free man. Try not to fuck it up.
Antonia
I skimmed Blake’s email. It was more of the same. With an interesting tidbit at the end. Stephan Channing, a fellow legislator, was under investigation by an ethics committee for improper conduct. Word on the street was sexual harassment that escalated into the state senator being reported for trespassing at the homes of two female aides.
This could be your ticket back. Keeping my ear to the ground for more news.
A new scandal meant mine could be quietly swept under the rug. By the time my next session began, my divorce would be settled, and someone else would be under the microscope. I’d be free to start back on my path.
Why didn’t that make me feel vindicated? Bootleg was messing with my motivation.
I answered a few more emails, scrolled through my texts, and gave my two cents on a few cases at the firm. I touched base with my assistant who’d become rather free range since my abrupt departure, and we discussed the latest rounds of invites and events. The only one that sounded remotely interesting to me was an outdoor barbeque reception for Maryland Legal Aid, a cause I was particularly passionate about. The event was in Annapolis tonight.
I could make it. But did I want to test the waters?
I put it on the back burner along with the handful of requests for comment from a few of the more tenacious media members who bypassed the family mouthpiece. It appeared that interest in my divorce was indeed fading.
“Devlin!” Two voices called in sing-song.
I sighed and closed my laptop. “What?” I called back.
