Sharing You (Sharing You 1)

“All right then. Ten minutes tops!” she said with a smile and hurried back down the hallway.

Thirty minutes later, a man in a suit that had to cost more than I made in a month walked into the building.

“Brody Saco, what a pleasant surprise seeing you here.”

I raised my eyebrow and straightened in the chair. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Oh, well, not exactly. But you’re about to if you decide to continue on with what you’re about to do. I’m J. Shepherd, but I’m sure you would have figured that out sooner or later in this conversation.”

I locked my jaw and my eyes narrowed as I recognized the familiar name. Olivia and her parents threw it around enough, there was no way not to know it. He was her parents’ attorney.

“You know what I just find absolutely hilarious?” he asked as he took the seat next to me. “Other than the fact that you really thought I didn’t have enough pull in the surrounding cities to have them watching for you and to call me when you finally came in? And to file for divorce too. I had bet it would be for a defense attorney.” He clucked his tongue. “Guess I lost out on that three hundred dollars.”

“What do you want?” I said through gritted teeth.

“Right. So this is what I find funny. A man who was driving when an accident occurred, which resulted in killing his son, and the same man who tried to make his wife’s fainting look like a suicide attempt . . . is now wanting to file for divorce. I’m seeing a pattern. If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Saco, you only married Olivia Reynolds because she was going to have your baby. Is that correct?”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there trying to control my breathing.

“I’ll take your silence as a confirmation. So that means you never really wanted a life with her, and that includes a family. It is quite convenient that your son is out of the picture. And now, after waiting a long enough time that it wouldn’t seem suspicious to most, you try to get your wife put in a psych ward before divorcing her. Now that, Mr. Saco, seems very suspicious, if you ask me. And since we are asking me . . . I’ll just inform you now that if you continue with your filing, we will press charges for trying to make Olivia look suicidal so you could force her into a psych ward, which will only bring up the question of whether the car accident was actually an accident or not.”

My breaths were coming fast, too fast. It felt like I was going to be sick. This couldn’t be happening.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?”

“What game are you all playing at? No one in that family, including Olivia, can stand me. She’s always making bullshit accusations about things I’ve done that have scared her. She’s said I’ve hurt her. For Christ’s sake, her parents put in a formal complaint to get me fired for it. They made this huge, dramatic scene at the hospital yesterday about not letting me near her because of what I had allegedly done. And now suddenly it’s the opposite? They want to file something against me because I haven’t called begging her to come home when she can willingly do it herself? They have you watching for me, and you’re coming in here threatening me if I file for divorce? What is the point of all this back-and-forth bullshit?”

“Ooh.” He held his hands up and winced. “Threatening is such a harsh word, Mr. Saco. As a lawyer, I’m not threatening; I’m simply strongly advising you against something you would regret immensely. Most people pay me five hundred an hour for this kind of advice. You’re lucky I’m giving it to you for free.”

I stood and started to leave, but stopped when he grabbed my wrist.

“Mr. Saco, I am strongly advising you that you go home and take care of your wife the way you’re supposed to. You don’t want the Reynoldses to have to call me again. We wouldn’t want to see what would happen to your career, or your brother’s, or heaven forbid your house, his house, or your parents’ house if you decide to ignore my advice. I’ll tell you once again, this is merely advice. You don’t want to see what happens when I start threatening.”

Slowly, I turned to look down at him and watched as his challenging eyes met mine.

“Now you have a nice day, Mr. Saco.”

Kamryn

June 17, 2015

I HANDED OFF a tray of pastries to Grace to take up to the front and turned to begin filling and icing a few dozen cupcakes when the shop’s phone rang. Looking around the counter until I spotted it, I grabbed it and put it between my shoulder and cheek.

“KC’s Sweet Treats,” I said by way of greeting.

“Hey.”

I stopped reaching for the cupcakes as my body heated and tingled, my stomach simultaneously started churning, and I held my breath. One word. One simple word and I felt like I could easily faint from the effect his voice had on me—or get sick because of the stress I could tell he was trying so hard to hide.

“Brody, what happened?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing. I, uh, I’d just called you earlier and never heard back. I wanted to be able to get ahold of you before I went in to work.”

“You called?” I patted my apron and pockets and sighed. “I don’t have my phone on me. It’s either in my purse or my car, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t—Kamryn, don’t ever say you’re sorry.”

My forehead bunched together in confusion and worry. “Brody, what’s wrong?”