The Prenup - Lauren Layne Page 0,72

hand back in to admire it. “I can’t wear it in public yet, obviously. We have to wait another month until …” She waggles her fingers over me. “You know. The divorce. And then we’ll probably wait a bit longer so as not to raise eyebrows. But at least when it’s just the two of us, I can wear this and know that he’s mine.”

I barely manage to hold back my laugh at the lack of subtlety. There it is. Her real motive for stopping by. To apologize, my ass. She’s here to remind me in no uncertain terms that Colin is hers, and she has the big-ass rock to prove it.

Well, sorry to steal your thunder, lady, but I’ve known he wasn’t mine long before he put that behemoth on your finger.

“Have you set a date yet?” I ask, not because I want to know, but because if I have any shot at remaining in Colin’s life after this is over, I’m going to have to at least try to make nice with this woman.

“No, we just want to enjoy being engaged,” she says in a dreamy voice, still ogling her own ring.

“Well, I’m really happy for you guys.”

A total lie, but I don’t feel bad about it, because I’m trying to be happy, and I’d like to think that counts for something.

“Thank you,” Rebecca says, standing. “I just wanted you to be the first to know, since … well, as you said—this whole thing is a difficult situation, and transparency will make it as painless for all of us as possible.”

“Yes, definitely,” I say, as we walk to the door. “I’m glad the end is in sight.”

“Me too. And between us girls,” she leans forward, conspiratorially, her left hand lifted to reveal her big ring and her crossed fingers, “fingers crossed that you two sail through that immigration interview tomorrow. I’ll do what I have to do for that man, but the idea of moving to Ireland.” She gives a drastic little shudder.

I’m all out of fake smiles now, so I open the front door with an icy coolness that would make my mother extremely proud. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“Oh, don’t tell him,” she says breezily. “We swore we wouldn’t tell a single soul about the engagement being official. He’s just terrified about anyone catching wind of it and anything messing up the divorce process. I think he lives in constant fear you’ll change your mind and refuse to sign the papers or something.”

“Trust me. I’ll have no problem signing those,” I say with a cheerful smile. Oh look. I do have one more fake smile left. I paste it on as I calmly close the door in Rebecca’s face.

I turn around, intending to return to my stir-fry, but my legs don’t move. Instead, I lean back against the door, my breath coming in huge gulps as my eyes water. I lift my own left hand, looking at the antique flower ring. Older than hers. Less expensive.

Infinitely more perfect.

But given for a different reason than Rebecca’s. And it’s a crucial difference.

Rebecca’s words cycle on repeat in my head. I think he lives in constant fear you’ll change your mind and refuse to sign the papers.

I lose my battle with my tears, and I realize I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. But more than what I want for me is what I want for him.

It doesn’t occur to me until this very moment that this is what real love is about—wanting what’s best for the other person. Wanting their happiness above your own because you love them.

Like I love Colin.

I wipe my tears on the back of my hand and go to the kitchen, picking my cell phone up off the counter.

I call my brother.

He doesn’t pick up, but I don’t expect him to since it’s six hours ahead and I’m sure he’s in bed.

Normally I’d just text, but there are some things better said aloud. I wait patiently through his nonsense voice mail recording, wait for the beep. And leave a message.

“Hey Justin, it’s your favorite sister. Call me back as soon as you get this. I need some legal advice. It’s about that stupid prenup agreement …”

Chapter 36

Wednesday, November 4

I’m wiping down the kitchen counters when Colin gets home a couple of hours later.

“Hey,” he says, coming into the kitchen. “The scene of the crime must have been worse than usual tonight. It’s nearly ten o’clock and you’re