Page 79 of More than Paper

“Why can’t he understand that you don’t need your inheritance. I will take care of you and your mama. Why can’t he trust my word on this?” Jamison says.

He’ll take care of her and her mama?

“Do you think we should show him our bank statements? Maybe that would stop this madness?” the woman with a slight accent says.

Our bank statements?

“No. I do not want your father having any information on our assets,” Jamison sternly says. “Who knows what he would do with that information.”

Our assets?

“I’m so sorry. This is so screwed up. Santiago has always been groomed to take over his business. It’s never been in the plans for anyone I married to take over, and especially not a non-Colombian like you. None of this makes sense.”

Anyone I married...like you? Jamison’s married?My heart drops, and I turn to leave, but my suitcase turns on its side and falls.

“Quinn!” I hear Jamison say.

Oh God. I have to get out of here.Every single word my mother or brother has ever said to me screams out in my head.

How big a fool have I been? How could he do this to me?

I push the button to the elevator.Open. Oh God, please open.

“Quinn.” Jamison spins me around.

Tears are streaming down my face. “You’re married.”

“It’s not what you think.”

I slap him as hard as I can.

He slowly turns his face back to me. My handprint is on his cheek. “I deserve that for not telling you, but it’s not what you think.”

I turn back to the elevator.Why isn’t it opening?

Jamison grabs my arm. “Quinn, come sit down. Let’s talk so I can explain.”

I spin into him. “Explain? Explain what? That you’ve lied to me all these months. Does your wife know about me?”

“Yes. And it’s not what you think,” Jamison repeats.

“Please, Quinn. Let him explain.” The woman comes out of the kitchen, and my mouth hangs open. It’s Valeria Sánchez. You can’t get groceries without her face staring back at you in the checkout counter.

I point between them. “You two are married?”

“Not how you think,” Jamison says.

“It’s true.”

I hurl at him, “I don’t understand. Is there another version of married I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” they both say at the same time.

“How long have you been married?”

Jamison gulps. “Fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years,” I cry out. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

---