“Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious.” He turned around to look at me.
“You can’t treat me like a dog, Slate.”
“A dog?” He shut the door then came back to me, his powerful shoulders shaking with his rage. “If I were treating you like a dog, I wouldn’t give a damn where you ended up. I wouldn’t care about your safety. I wouldn’t care about taking care of you. On the contrary, I treat you like a fucking queen. You deserve better than this dump. You deserve the best.” He stopped in front of me, his eyes still filled with anger even though his words were so gentle. “I’m not letting you settle for anything less.”
Slate and I didn’t say a word to each other on the drive home. We arrived at his penthouse then stepped into the living room. Coen must have just arrived minutes earlier because he stood there in the suit he’d been wearing that morning.
Slate stepped inside first. “How’d it go?”
Coen set his satchel on the couch then stripped off his coat. “She’s bonkers.”
“Good.” Despite Slate’s foul mood, he showed a slight smile. “What did the lawyers say?”
“Mine said it was fully valid. Her lawyer was caught off guard by it, wasn’t exactly sure what to do. She said her signature had been obtained without her consent, but I lied and said she was aware of it. She wanted to kill me, man.” He slid his hands into his pockets, partially happy and partially somber. “I’ve never seen her like that. It felt good…but it hurt at the same time. Our entire relationship was a lie. There’s not a single memory that was ever real. And she spent five years waiting for my checkbook. It makes me wonder how many other men she slept with… I got tested today.”
“I’m sure you don’t have anything, Coen.” Simone was the kind of woman who wouldn’t allow herself to contract any diseases. She probably fucked lots of different men, but she was safe about it.
He sat on the couch and crossed his legs. “That was just the beginning. Now we have to keep meeting in mediation until we reach a settlement. If we don’t, we’ll have to take it to a judge for a ruling. Based on her rage, she’ll take it that far.”
“I’m sure she will.” Slate sat in the armchair. “Did she mention my cherry-popper business?”
Coen rubbed his hands together as he stared at them. “No…she didn’t.”
“Not yet,” Slate said. “After she’s done being blindsided, it’ll be all over the news.”
Maybe that was why Slate didn’t want me to live so far away from him. If men started harassing me for sex, that could get ugly. I could be stalked or, worse, raped. Maybe that was why he was so anal about it.
“Maybe,” Coen said. “Or maybe she’ll focus all her fury at me.”
“She’ll figure out it was me eventually,” Slate said. “And honestly, I hope she does. She didn’t outsmart me five years ago, and she won’t outsmart me now.”
Coen bowed his head, as if he were taking the comment personally.
Slate rose to his feet again. “I’m going to hit the gym and shower. I’ll get started on dinner afterward.” He left the room and walked into the bedroom.
I stayed behind with Coen. “I’m sorry you had such a miserable day.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he lied. “They always say divorce is a very bloody battle. She was so pissed off when she realized she wasn’t entitled to half my estate. That look on her face…I’ll never forget it. She was heartbroken…the way I was heartbroken when she left me. Except she’s livid over money, and I’m livid over love.”
“Yeah…that’s gotta be hard.”
“It makes it easier in some ways. If she tries to trick me later to sink her claws into my cash, I’ll know her apologies are insincere.”
“I think your brother might actually kill you if you took her back.”
He chuckled. “He’d kill us both.”
I scooted to his side and patted him on the thigh. “It’ll be alright, Coen. It doesn’t seem like it now, but the worst part of your life is officially behind you. Now there’s nowhere to go but up.”
“I suppose.”
“And there are so many women out there who will want you for you.”
“I don’t know about that part…my reputation is destroyed now. Everyone thinks I’m the biggest idiot on the planet.”
“Not everyone,” I said. “I don’t. Your mother doesn’t.”
“My mother does,” he said with a faint laugh. “She’s just too nice to say anything.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“I don’t see why. I don’t deserve your sympathy.”
There was no point in kicking someone who was already down. Mistakes were lessons in life, not life sentences. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes.”
“Have you ever made a mistake like that?” he asked, turning to me.