Wasted Love with You (Wasted Love 1)

His low laughter comes over the line again. “I’ll text you the address for where you need to meet the lawyer. Don’t keep him waiting.”

“You can send me an invoice, too. I want to pay you back.”

“I’ve already told you that you don’t have to pay for anything,” he says. “That’ll never change.”

“In that case, it’s free for you to tell me who you are. Can you do that?”

“I’m a man who is beyond interested in you,” he says. “I’m also a man who has answered more questions in the past two days than I ever have in my entire life.”

“If that’s true, that means you never answer them.”

“Exactly.”

Silence.

“Is there anything else you want to say, Autumn?”

“Yes.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t agree with your methods at all, but thank you for your help with my divorce.”

“You’re more than welcome,” he says. “Would you like to come over and kill time with me until your meeting?”

“Yes. I mean—no.” The thought of seeing his gorgeous face collides with the panicked picture of Mr. Walsh. “I have some important plans to handle today.”

“Fair enough.” He knows I’m lying; I can tell. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I end the call, and my dashboard instantly flashes with his promised message.

234 Whitten Avenue

Top floor, Resno’s Restaurant.

5 o’clock.

Saving the address, I steer my car onto the highway.

I know exactly where I can kill time until five…

End of Episode 14

Episode 15

Autumn

My former picture-perfect suburbia is still eerily serene and sterile.

Every home’s bright blue trash bin is perfectly aligned for today’s pickup, and the bright dahlias that once dotted the doorways for fall are now replaced with holiday wreaths to welcome the holidays.

While I circle the block, I call Nate’s office to confirm he’s still there before pulling into the driveway.

To my surprise, he hasn’t changed the garage code or re-keyed the entry door.

I head upstairs to our bedroom, bracing myself for the sight of new clothes that belong to his mistress, a redecorated bedspread, or new picture frames, but it’s still the same.

Absolutely nothing has changed…

Not wanting to waste any time wandering down a broken memory lane, I head to the closet and thumb through my remaining hangers.

I take down all the suits and blouses, stuffing them inside a bin.

A red pair of heels I previously missed are next, along with my collection of custom violin pegs.

My wedding dress stares at me from inside its clear garment bag—angering me with its waste of a design—and I contemplate whether I have time to burn it.

Probably not…

Walking over to Nate’s side of the closet, I open his top dresser drawer.

As always, his hundred-dollar socks are tightly rolled and organized, his custom cufflink collection sits protected in glass, and—

My eyes catch sight of where he keeps his top contacts’ business cards, and my world shifts to a complete stop.

On top is a slightly worn one that reads, “Edward Rochester.”

I pick it up, thinking I must be misreading the name, but the letters are clear as day.

And the font is exactly the same.

Flipping it over, I notice that the phone number differs from the one Ryder gave me, and the words ‘7 o’clock, my estate’ are etched in faint black ink at the corner.

They know each other?

I lean against the edge of the wood, attempting to connect the dots, but I have no idea where to start with this puzzle. No idea what the final picture is supposed to look like.

When would they have even met?

My mind reels with possibilities as I tuck it into my back pocket, and I make a mental note to call the number later.

Keep moving, Autumn. Keep moving…

I pull open his other drawers, looking for anything I may want to keep for myself.

After several minutes of searching, my reward is a wad of cash worth two thousand dollars and his favorite Audemars Piguet watch.

As I’m carrying the bin to my car, Julie pushes a stroller through her front door.

She takes one long look at me and opens her mouth, but no words fall from her lips.

I don’t stand around waiting for them.

Popping the trunk, I toss the things inside and slide behind the wheel.

“Autumn, wait!” She waves once she’s reached my mailbox. “Wait!”

Ugh. I grit my teeth and roll down my window. “If you’re expecting me to apologize for what I last said to you, don’t hold your breath.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” she says, her voice soft. “I just want to say good luck with your new life.”

“That’s it?” I wait for her to serve me one last dose of venom—one final sting for the road—but she only stares.

“That’s it,” she says, her face devoid of any judgment. “I hope it all works out for you.”

“You, too,” I say. “Hope you remain happily married.”

“I never said that I was happy.” She pushes her stroller past me. “Take care, Autumn…”

End of Episode 15