Stitches

I frown at her. “Excuse me?”

“You aren’t divorced yet. If Ashley can catch you with someone—especially someone you knew and spent time with while you were married—you are fucked.”

“I’m fucked?” I reiterate, pointing at myself. “She cheats and if I start seeing someone while we’re separated, I’m fucked?”

“You put an infidelity clause in your prenup, Griffin. Against my advisement, you decided to be a hero and make things equal. You’re the one who fucked yourself in the event you ever cheated. Some kind of self-loathing bullshit? Misplaced chivalry? Whatever it was, I told you it was a bad idea, but you wanted things to be fair. Yes, Ashley cheating means she gets the shaft, but if you cheated first and she can prove it? You are fucked. Fucked hard, no lube.”

My jaw locks and anger roils in my gut. “I didn’t cheat. I never cheated.”

“If it looks like you did, that doesn’t really matter.”

“This is bullshit. She cheated on me years ago.”

Her eyebrows rise with interest. “Can you prove that?”

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you kidding me with this shit?”

Carrie crosses her arms, shaking her head. “I wish. I’m not. Adultery isn’t enough to get an ordinary prenup thrown out, but you made yourself a perfect target. Personally, I don’t see Ashley letting up. Seriously, your personal life is your own, but please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t give her ammunition. You’re a nice guy, you don’t deserve to be taken for a ride by some money-grabbing opportunist, but you will. She’ll take you for half of everything you’ve got—and considering you have a business partner in your ventures, I don’t think you’re the only one who’s going to be pissed off about that.”

I sigh, massaging my temples. This is the biggest load of shit I’ve heard thus far. All these hoops to jump through just because I make a good living. If I lived in a fucking trailer with $10 in the bank, Ashley would be history already. “I fucking hate money.”

“Well,” she says brightly, “ignore my advice and you’ll have a lot less of it. I guess that’s your silver lining?”

“

This was all Seb’s dream, not mine. I never wanted this shit.”

“We’ll get this all taken care of as quickly as we can. If her lawyers can’t turn up anything soon, then we’re good. But I’m telling you now, she’s hired a shark. He can find dirt on anybody and I have a worrisome hunch you’ve been rolling around in the mud.”

I shoot her a look of annoyance. I like Carrie because she’s not a formal stick in the mud, but this isn’t her business.

Well, I guess it could be. I obviously have not cheated on Ashley, but if she catches wind of anything between me and Moira…

Christ, I can’t even think about that.

So, that’s my fucking day.

I work late into the night, but when I leave, I don’t go to Seb’s house. For the first night since we got together, I go back to my cold, empty house. It’s too fucking big. A lot of Ashley’s shit is still here. The house is another complication in the divorce. The prenup protects all the assets I had when we got married, but I bought the house afterward.

I feel like a fucking idiot. I don’t even give a fuck about the house. I’m ready to give it to her if it means she’ll go the fuck away.

Seb texts me about an hour after I get home to see where I’m at. I tell him I’m not coming over tonight, that Carrie had nothing good to say and I’m just going to stay home.

“Want some company?” he asks.

I don’t answer. I go up to the master suite I fucking hate and take a shower. I lie in the bed I shared with Ashley and drink alone, scrolling through every text message she’s sent me and glaring at them like she’ll be able to feel it.

Seb shows up with a bottle of liquor, just in case I didn’t have any on hand.

“What’d Carrie say?” he asks, without preamble.

“That I’m a fucking idiot.”

Seb’s eyebrows rise and he shrugs. “That does sound like Carrie.”