Stitches

She cost herself Griff’s affection and she knows it, she just doesn’t want to let go of the bank account that comes with him. All she can do is try to terrorize him into giving in, and since she knows he’s fond of me, she thinks she can use me to do it.

If she thinks I give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks of my relationships, though, she’s dead wrong.

We are all consenting adults. As long as we’re happy and no one else is getting hurt, I don’t see how it’s anybody’s place to take issue with our relationship—they will anyway, but they shouldn’t. I don’t care what they think about me. I care what they think about Sebastian. I care what is said to and about Sebastian.

I care because my husband, while wonderful, is not a man you embarrass. He may have patience for me and Griff because he loves us, but he doesn’t have any for Ashley or the society set. If any of them make the mistake of mistreating me or laughing at him, my husband will feel compelled to punish them for it. He’ll go to great, maybe even destructive lengths to accomplish it if he has to.

Because of that, he’s not the one I call.

I call Griff. I explain to him what happened. I tell him I’m not sure what to do.

The first thing he asks is also whether or not I told Sebastian.

“No.”

“Good,” he says, quickly. “Don’t. Let me handle this.”

20

Griff

$17, 177.31.

That’s the amount in our joint checking account. Or, it was, before I made the decision to ditch Ashley. I made sure to call the bank three days prior and let them know I was withdrawing $17,000, then I made sure I waited until the money was in my hands before I kicked her cheating ass out of my house.

It’s certainly not all my money. I keep my own separate account, too. Never could trust Ashley with all our money. I tried when we first got married. She went on an ill-timed shopping spree and our mortgage check bounced.

After that, I kept my shit separate but maintained a generous pillow in our joint account. That’s the account from which all the bills were paid, the only account she knows about, and the only account of mine she still has access to. She bled it down to $2.13, but I couldn’t give a fuck less about a couple hundred dollars.

Today I’m going to take her up to the bank, put the larger chunk of money back in, and take my name off the account. It’s hers. She can have it. I’m going to give her the house, too. I just want her gone.

I can’t fucking believe she confronted Moira. That was so far over the line, I don’t even know how I’m going to be nice to her right now. I need to, though. I need to just shut her up and make her go away before it gets any worse.

She opens the door of her hotel room, leans against the doorframe and grins at me. “There you are. I figured Moira would get you to answer me.”

Leveling my stoniest expression at her, I state, “This is over. This is done.”

Ashley holds up her hand, still laden with the wedding band and engagement ring I bought her. “No, sweetie. ‘Til death do us part. It’s not done.”

“Don’t fucking tempt me,” I mutter.

Instead of believing my bluster, she shoots me a playful smile. “I’ll let you choke me if you want to, but only if you put your dick in me first.”

“I’d rather cut it off,” I tell her, honestly.

“Ouch,” she says, shooting me an exaggerated pout that I found cute once upon a time. Now it just annoys the fuck out of me.

I reach into my jacket pocket and hand her an envelope, thick with cash. Her eyes widen and her pout falls, revealing a more honest peek of her interest. “What’s this?”

I shove the envelope into her hand and she immediately opens it, using her manicured pink fingernails to comb through the bills.

“Seventeen grand,” I tell her. “I’m going to put it in an account for you so you have some money to get yourself started building a new life. You can keep your car and every material thing I’ve ever given you. You can even keep the house and everything in it. I’m going to sign it over to you. All you have to do is sign the divorce papers.”

Now she smiles, staring at me like I’ve brought her a bag of peanuts. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell am I supposed to do with $17,000, Griff? This is insulting. I thought you’d open with at least 25.”

“Will 25,000 make you go away?” I ask. I won’t be able to get that much cash out today, but I could damn sure write her a check. Hell, I could borrow the rest of the cash from Seb if that’ll do it. He always has a decent chunk on hand.

“Fuck no,” she says, laughing like I’ve just told the best joke of her life. “I just figured it was a good start. Oh, no, baby. I know what you’re worth. I want what’s rightfully mine. I want half.”