I wasn’t falling apart inside. I looked back at Dane, who was still frowning.
“Let me see.”
“No.” I stuffed my cell in my pocket and stared at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m done here. Move.”
“Look at me.”
I didn’t.
“Look at me.”
Yeah, I still didn’t.
“I did not send you that message, Vienna.”
I snickered. “Oh, I received it by magic, did I?” His hand reached for my jaw, and I slapped it away. “Don’t fucking touch me. I believed you about those pictures. God, I am such an idiot.”
“Baby girl—”
“Don’t call me that.”
A muscle in his cheek ticked. “I didn’t send the text, Vienna.”
“Well it couldn’t have been anyone else, could it? Your phone is right there.”
“I’m a very careful man. Do you think I would accidentally send you a message of any sort? Is it something I’ve done before? Wouldn’t I at least notice the fuck up?” He took a small step closer to me. “The message was spoofed.”
I felt my brow pinch. “Spoofed?”
“There are websites people can sign up to that allow them to email, call, or text people while concealing their ID. All they’d have needed to do to send you this text was enter your number as the message receiver and then enter my number as the person they want you to believe sent it. It’s that easy.
“A big tell-tale sign that a message has been spoofed is that the name of the apparent sender comes up as gray rather than the clickable blue. Look at all the other text messages you’ve received from me. I’ll bet my name comes up as blue for them, and I’ll bet it comes up as gray for the one you received just now. Check. Humor me.”
I pulled out my cell and checked the past messages that I’d received from him. His name showed up blue every time. But, sure enough, it showed up gray for the incriminating text I’d just received. And that might have brought me some measure of relief if I hadn’t found divorce papers on his desk.
I pocketed my cell and shrugged. “So the message was spoofed. Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t even matter now. I signed your papers; I gave you your divorce. Whether you’re with someone else is not my business and does not have to matter to me.”
“I don’t want a divorce, Vienna.”
“What, you draft up shit like that for fun? Is that what you’re saying? Oh my God, I can’t deal with you right now.”
“I don’t want a divorce. Not now. Not ever. What I want is for you to stay with me. I made that pretty clear.”
I stared at him, at a loss. “Are you high?”
“Why else do you think I got you that fucking cat?”
“Because she’s all you can give me.”
“That’s what you think?” He exhaled heavily. “Jesus, Vienna. I made the decision that night in New York that I was keeping you. I could tell the next morning that you hadn’t worked that out for yourself. But I said nothing, because I knew you’d doubt that I was capable of being in a relationship. And I was right to think that, wasn’t I?”
I looked at him blankly. Wait, what?
“I knew I was going to have to show you that it could work; that this was truly what I wanted. I also knew that that might not be enough on its own; that you might balk at staying in a marriage that began as a sham, so I drafted up those divorce papers.” He let out a long breath. “I don’t want a divorce. I just wanted to give you the option. If you only want to be in a marriage that has been real from second one, I’ll sign those bastard papers and then we’ll remarry in whatever way you want.”
I looked up at him, feeling like I’d been dealt a blow to the jaw. “You’re serious?” The question came out in a whisper.
“Do I ever joke?”
“But … you’d lose your trust fund if we divorced now.”
He cursed beneath his breath. “You’re more important to me than a trust fund, Vienna.” He seemed exasperated that I’d ever think differently. “There was another sheet of paper I was going to show you today.” He crossed to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a document of some sort. Returning to me, he held it out.
I carefully took it from him. It was a letter. A letter he’d received from a hospital. I quickly read it and frowned. “You … you’ve booked