“Where is she?” I demand. “I want to hear from her that this is what she wants.”
Troy just scoffs. “Be my guest,” he says with a wave of his hand.
“You know she’ll take my side. Once I explain everything.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He gives me a grin like he just checkmated my king right off the chess board. “Well, then it should really surprise you to hear that this little plan to rehab our marriage was all her idea.”
9
“Tess!” Troy calls. “Stop walking—”
“Just go away,” I cry as I hurry my way across the atrium.
“We need to talk—”
“Fuck you,” I say, still not slowing.
The Katies sit in shocked silence as I march up to the elevator and slam my thumb against the up arrow.
“Come on,” I whimper, watching the lights flash along the top.
Troy sweeps in behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Tess—”
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, spinning to break our contact.
He drops his hand to his side. “You’re being so irrational right now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you—”
“Irrational?” I cry, eyes wide. “My career is on the line because you got your fucking feelings hurt!”
“This isn’t about me, Tess—”
“Everything is about you!”
Behind me, the elevator doors open with a ding. I spin away from him and step inside. Of course, he follows. I jab my thumb on the number nine and then pepper the ‘door close’ button.
“You only need to press it once,” Troy says from my shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“Pressing it again does nothing—”
“Oh my god, you have to shut up,” I cry as the doors slide shut. “Please, for once, just fucking shut up so I can hear myself fucking think!”
“God, you’re a mess,” he mutters. “I think this leave of absence is coming at just the right time for you.”
I spin around, taking him in. He’s always been handsome—dark eyes, chiseled cheek bones for days. He oozes wealth and sophistication. At 6’2”， he’s a big guy too. Working out became his obsession the summer before he turned thirty. Now he fills out his suit with those broad shoulders and that well-muscled chest.
But his beauty no longer distracts me the way it once did. Now I see it for what it is: vanity, insecurity. He works so hard to keep his body in shape because he wants other women to find him desirable and men to find him enviable.
And I know there’s been so many other women.
Puffing out my chest, I hold his gaze. “Troy, we’re done. I want a divorce.”
His eyes go wide as the elevator halts and dings, the doors sliding open. I dart out, praying the doors crush him as they close. But I’m not that lucky.
“Tess!”
I launch across the ninth-floor lobby, hurrying towards my office suite. Wrenching the door open, I charge forward, ignoring the surprised looks of the secretaries. I see Rhonda’s empty desk and my heart sinks. She’s still in her meeting, meaning I have no buffer. It’s about to be David versus Goliath, and I left my slingshot in my other pencil skirt.
“Tess! Goddamn it, will you just talk to me?” Troy shouts.
I jerk open my office door, desperate to put a wall between us and the secretaries before he tears into me. I can’t bear to let other people see me cry, and I don’t think I can hold these angry tears back much longer.
Slamming my tablet and coffee down, my chest heaves as I pant for breath. I look down at my hands splayed against the dark, polished wood of my executive desk. I can feel Troy sucking up all the air behind me as my office door clicks shut. The asshole has the audacity to turn the lock. The sound echoes in my chest, like the bars of a jail cell latching closed.
I spin around. “Unlock the door, Troy.”
“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” he counters, dark eyes narrowed at me.
“And I don’t want to feel trapped in here with you. Unlock the fucking door before I scream.”
“God, you’re paranoid,” he huffs. But he unlocks the door. “There, are you happy? Will you stop being crazy now and just talk to me?”
“I want a divorce,” I repeat.
“No.”
“Troy—”
“Tess, no. I’m not going to let you make this decision right now. You’re too emotional—”