Feels Like Falling - Kristy Woodson Harvey Page 0,62

Not as good as I am, I thought, mom mode fully reactivated.

“Well, hi,” Greg said, leaning over to kiss my cheek, catching me off guard.

“Come on in,” I said, closing the door behind him. “I miss the hell out of him, but boys need dads, right?”

He pulled out a bar stool and sat down, and I sat beside him. “Look, I know it’s hard, but I appreciate it. I really do. I can’t stand the thought of only getting him every other weekend. And I’ll make sure to repay you for that when we’re hammering out the…” He cleared his throat. “…details.”

That did sound nicer than “settlement.” I was about to make a snide remark, but then I realized that this was the best opportunity I was going to get to raise my voice about ClickMarket.

So I shot him my most ingratiating smile. “Funny you should mention that,” I said. “Because I think the perfect trade would be that you quit trying to take half my company.”

Greg started to stand up. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss this without our lawyers.”

“Yeah, Greg,” I said sarcastically. “We agreed. But they’re certainly not coming up with a solution anytime soon, so I thought perhaps we could try to have a civil conversation that didn’t cost me five hundred dollars per hour.”

I didn’t sound super civil as I said it, but this was my major pain point, and Greg knew it.

He sat down again. “Fine. Let’s talk. I helped you build that company. I’ve worked just as hard on it as you have.”

The laugh that escaped my lips was cruel. “Are you kidding me? I have spent all day, every day, seven days a week working on that company since I was twenty years old.” I paused and reiterated, “Twenty.” Then I added for good measure, “I brought you into my carefully cultivated world, and you repaid me by cashing paychecks and screwing your secretary in your corner office!”

Civil was over.

His face darkened, and his voice was cold and callous as he said, “Who do you think was holding our family together while you were working seven days a week? Who do you think was taking care of our child? Who was doing your share of the work at home?”

I wasn’t going to let him play the superdad card. He was far from it. “Maria! Whose salary I paid,” I practically spat as Wagner came tearing into the kitchen. I could feel the fury in my chest. What Greg had said was kind of fair, and I knew that I had some responsibility for my divorce. But this was about my company, not my shortcomings as a wife and mother.

“Mom! Where’s Diana?” Wagner asked, thankfully oblivious to what was going on. “I want to show her my new Wii game that Dad got me.”

I cut my eyes at Greg, then said, “Diana’s gone out, bud, but you can show me.”

Greg leaned over to hug Wagner. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, dude.” Wagner gave his dad a fist bump.

Greg turned to me and whispered, “Maybe if you’d ever put me first, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Maybe if you had made yourself someone I wanted to put first, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

We were so good at this game, at cutting each other down to the smallest size.

“You amaze me, Gray,” he said ruefully. “You really do.” Once upon a time he had meant it earnestly. He had been in awe of my tenacity, of the way that I was able to achieve what he never could.

And I wondered how, if I had truly been so amazing, I had ended up in this house alone.

Even now, two days after the fight, my blood boiled every time I thought of it. And, honestly, I was a little embarrassed by how cruel I had been. But why in the world was my best friend at my office—and, yes, still Greg’s office too—in Raleigh? I texted her.

Greg’s office?????

When she didn’t answer, I texted Trey. Is M at ClickMarket?

Three dots appeared immediately. Investigating.

Diana was pulling something that smelled like what heaven must out of the oven and, before I could respond to Trey, I heard a soft rap at the back door. I shouldn’t admit this, but I didn’t know whether to feel excited or a little annoyed or something in between. I loved my dad so much. But ever since Mom had died, things were… awkward. She was the glue that held us together. It