Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

“You were emotional.”

I laugh, the sound cold and brittle.

“You’re walking away over a woman you don’t even love!”

My jaw tightens, but I have no one to blame but myself for the hateful way he speaks about Jo. “You’re wrong. I do love her. I just didn’t realize until now.”

“Is this her idea?” he demands.

“No. It’s mine. I’m tired of you trying to rope me and Jo into your idea of what family legacy is. I don’t care about it. Neither does she. And neither of us appreciates Mom stalking her and threatening to blackmail her.”

“Blackmail her? Is that what your girlfriend claimed?” Outrage bristles in every syllable.

“Oh, yes. Apparently, Mom got hold of a sex tape from an ex-boyfriend of Jo’s. I would never have thought that your wife, Margot Blackwood, pillar of the community, would go that far.”

He makes a strangled sound because he wants to disagree with me, but can’t. It is beneath us to use tactics so crude and insulting.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice frigid. “If she gets in my way like she did Tony, I won’t be so nice. Unlike him, there’s no way she can claim that I took something from her.”

“She just wants to reconcile!”

I laugh mockingly. “If she wanted that, she should’ve apologized, not tried to manipulate Jo behind my back.”

“Edgar…”

“Dad, you’ve made it clear that Mom is everything to you. You don’t care about anything else. So be with her and be happy. But don’t expect my blessings.” I hang up, then block his number.

I go back to Linda’s report. I have more urgent matters to take care of.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Jo

Yuna comes over only hours after Edgar leaves. Then she moves in, claiming she’s worried about me being alone when I’m in a “delicate state.” Since I can’t drink, she does double shots and gets drunk, and we trash-talk stupid men. Men who make you wish for things they were never planning to let you have.

I didn’t know Yuna was so good at disparaging people…and without using a single nasty or vulgar word.

Now that it’s a new day, I feel kind of bad about all the things Yuna and I said about men. But as the day goes on, and I see one client after another, and Edgar doesn’t make any attempt to contact me, I start to feel less guilty. Maybe I should’ve been meaner.

I tell myself he’s going to try to text me, because that’s the easy cop-out some of my exes used. Just text Sorry. Maybe add some idiotic excuses. He might even try to tell me I heard wrong.

Just like a store clerk at a boutique shop who tries to tell you you’re wrong to return an item for not looking right because there’s nothing wrong with the brand.

But Edgar doesn’t text. He doesn’t try to get the penthouse back or take his things.

And with every passing hour, my heart seems to deflate like a ball with a small hole in it. Why? I was so angry and upset when I overheard him. But with more time and better emotional stability, maybe I want to yell at him. Tell him what I think about his “she’s perfect because I’ll never love her” bullshit. Get my closure.

Because even though I’m telling myself I’m done with him, there’s a part of me that says it’s not quite over. And I have to agree. Unsettled feelings churn in my heart. My life at the moment is like a murder mystery that doesn’t reveal who did it. Or a romantic comedy where the couple doesn’t get back together after a fight.

But I’ll be damned if I contact Edgar first. I know whoever makes the first move is going to be at a disadvantage.

So the rest of the week passes. I look at my calendar app. I have an appointment with Dr. Silverman next week. Should I ask her assistant to gently nudge Edgar about it so he’ll have to show up?

Or would he ignore that, too?

After a client appointment on Saturday, I head to Manny’s Tacos for a family dinner. Mama asked me to bring Edgar, but I haven’t told him because I don’t want to see him at the d

inner when we haven’t hashed everything out. Also, I don’t want my family finding out about our separation at the dinner.