"Isabel—"
"Good night, Everett." She yanked open the downstairs door and paused when he called out to her again.
"Isabel, what’s going on? I don't want to fight with you."
"I don't want to fight either." She inhaled and forced herself to breathe. "Be at my parents' house at eleven."
"I'll pick you up."
She shook her head firmly back and forth. "No. I'll meet you there. That way they'll not get the wrong idea. It's better that way."
Better for them.
And better for her so thatshedidn't get the wrong idea?
Nine o'clock the next morning,a knock sounded at her door and Isabel groaned.
"I hear you in there," Everett said, a smile in his voice.
The deep rumble warmed her heart even though she warned herself away from thinking such things. His presence was a temporary situation.And don't you forget that. "I told you to meet me at my parents' house," she called with a grimace as she sat up on the couch.
"I decided to come here instead," he said, his voice muffled by the door.
Of course he had. Not only had he come here but he'd also come early.
She pushed the blanket and heating pad aside and forced herself to her feet, slogging over to the door to unlock and yank it open.
She gave him a tired glance and leaned heavily against the doorknob.
"Isabel? Did you sleep at all?" he asked, his gaze searching her face with concern.
She could only imagine how bad she looked after a night of bingeingBuffy the Vampire Slayer. "Not much," she said, avoiding his gaze and turning to trudge back across the floor.
"What's going on?"
"I googled you." Because in the middle of the night, when her stomach was getting ripped to shreds by period cramps, what else was there to do? If Buffy had had the internet, she wouldn't have had to go to the library and depend on Giles so much for information.
"I see."
She shot a look at Everett over her shoulder and saw him gently close her door. Biting her lip, she plucked the cozy blanket off the couch and wrapped it around her before plopping down on the couch once more. "Good news, Mr. Billionaire. I'm not pregnant."
"You took a test?"
"Don't need to," she stated pointedly. "So you and your attorney can breathe easy and get the divorce papers ready. Now I get why you were both so nervous. No prenup. Good thing I’m not a gold digger."
He stood over her, hands on his lean hips as he watched her. She flushed under his scrutiny and noted the way he took in the bottle of pain relievers on the coffee table as well as the heating pad.
"You're hurting."
"Nothing I haven't dealt with all of my life." Sensing his displeasure, she shrugged. "Endometriosis. The first day or two is always the worst, then it lets up."
He took off his suit jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair.
"Did you tell your family you won't be coming?"
She rolled her head on the pillow and stared at him through drowsy eyes. "Not yet."
Everett took out his phone and she watched as he typed. "What are you doing?"