Eric looks up with a frown from the pan where the arrabiata is cooking. “Why?”
“He thinks it’s to discuss a settlement, but I have a plan.” With a wink, I add, “I’m going to channel my inner shark. I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” He plants a quick kiss on my forehead. I grip the hem of his shirt with my fingers, unwilling to let him step back.
“Thank you for making me hope again,” I whisper. “For making me fear less.”
Eric stills. “Pippa, are you saying good-bye to me?” His voice is low and uneven.
My heart clenches as I watch his tormented expression. “No, absolutely not. I won’t say good-bye until yo
u board that plane.”
“Good.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Good.”
Eric steps between my thighs. His mouth feels soft on mine as he kisses me tenderly at first, then more intensely until I moan in his arms. His hand moves up my thigh, higher and higher—
The unmistakable sound of sauce overflowing on the stove forces us apart.
“Don’t burn the food, Callahan,” I tease, wanting to lighten the mood as he’s trying to save our dinner. “It’d be bad form to let me starve.”
“It’s bad form to tempt me the way you do,” he volleys back.
“Oh, you want me to stop doing it?” I pretend I want to jump off the counter, but Eric stops me, placing a firm hand on my thigh.
“Don’t move.” His eyes have a dangerous glint to them. “Tempt away, Bennett.”
***
I keep my promise to Eric and tempt him constantly for the next few days, which results in little sleep for both of us. Tuesday arrives after a night of tossing and turning in bed. I wake up covered in a cold sweat. Eric isn’t next to me, but I expected that since he always wakes up before me. I go through the motions of showering and dressing in a somewhat robotic mood, trying to imagine how my meeting with Terence will go.
When I step into the living room, a mix of aromas I love greets me—coffee and muffins.
“Very thoughtful,” I say to Eric, who is sitting at the table with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“I was told it brings luck to start the day by eating your favorite breakfast.”
“Who told you that?”
“My mother.”
“I like her already.” I sit across from him and dig in to my breakfast. My palms become sweatier as the minutes pass by, a fact I try to keep from Eric.
“You don’t have to drive me there.” I grip my coffee cup with both hands, gulping down the last drops of liquid.
“Not negotiable.” Eric’s voice is soft and firm at the same time. I have no idea how he’s doing that. “I’ll wait for you outside the office. I’ll be there in case you need me to cheer you up or punch someone.”
“There will be no punching,” I say in a warning tone.
“Only if needed. I solemnly promise.”
I’m remarkably calm when I enter my lawyer’s office half an hour later. He tells me Terence is already in the meeting room—alone, as I requested. Terence’s lawyer is sitting in the waiting area, eyeing me with curiosity. He’s donned an expensive suit, a watch, and a self-assured smirk to match.
His smirk becomes more pronounced by the second, sickening me. Unwilling to spend more time than necessary here, I walk straight into the meeting room.
Terence is sprawled lazily on one of the chairs, and I sit opposite him. He sports the same self-assured facial expression his lawyer does—clearly assuming I’m going to offer him money for disappearing from my life. Before the divorce was final, I was mostly silent during mediations, letting my lawyer do all the talk, and doing my best not to provoke Terence. I’m no longer that same woman, though. He’s in for a rude awakening.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say by way of greeting. I prop my elbows on the wooden desk, leaning slightly forward. “You’re not getting one cent.”