He raises his eyebrows. “Oh you did, did you?” And he takes this as a cue to sit down. I stop the clock on my computer’s billing software, and I lean back in my chair.
“Is there something else you want to talk about?” I tease, knowing full well why he’s here.
“So, how are things going with Aspen?”
“They’re moving along.” I fill him in on the baking class, and how she’ll be at the Chamber of Commerce Silent Auction on Wednesday.
“Have you told her yet?” he asks in his stern, paternal voice.
Right. Popster’s house. I take a deep breath. “No. I’ll figure that out later, after she falls in love with me. That seems like a safer approach.”
He shakes his head, doubtful. “I don’t know, Ryker. But you know her better than I do, so you’ll have to follow your gut.”
I force a smile, and he says, “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” He stands up and adds, “A couple of the partners will be coming to the silent auction with Nancy and me. I expect to see most of the business owners from town there. And knowing your mother, she’ll be there. She can’t miss out on a town event.” He sighs and shakes his head, but then laughs.
“I figured she’ll be there,” I say.
“Rumor has it,” he says, “she’s got trouble in her little paradise right now.”
“Maybe karma finally caught up with her.”
“From what I hear, she’s up to her old ways,” he says as he walks out. He doesn’t seem disturbed in the least, which relaxes me.
I get back to work on the patent case. I grab my pencil and start marking up the file with notes and questions for things to follow up on. Before I know it, another hour has passed, and my stomach rumbles. I stand up and stretch, then make my way to the small kitchen and break room everybody in the office shares.
I see two associates in our firm, Ronald and Maria, enjoying the ham quiche and cherry pie I ordered from Aspen and Gabby’s restaurant. I smile because everyone likes it, but of course they do. I should tell them to write reviews on Yelp. But wait, would that piss her off because I’d be helping her? Maybe I should hold back a bit. I just want her to succeed so badly though. I love seeing her smile, and she’s so good at what she does. She deserves everything she’s working for.
I walk over to the counter and dish a slice of each for myself. I convince myself that I need carbs, too, and since this is the closest I’ll get to eating her pie—for now—I’ll take what I can get. I would laugh at my joke, but I’m dead serious. I’ve fallen asleep every night for the past two weeks imagining my face between her legs, tasting her sweet wetness, giving her more pleasure than she’s ever known. Now, whenever I bite into her cherry pie, it’s impossible not to think about it. The two are linked in my mind.
I’m standing at the counter, eating, minding my own business, and I’m halfway through my piece of quiche, when I overhear Maria tell Ronald about one of her divorce cases. “You won’t believe the way this woman is going after my client’s money,” she says and cackles. “The monster, soon-to-be ex-wife is going after half of everything he came to the marriage with on his own! And because my client is an idiot, she just might get a good chunk of it.” She throws her arms up in the air, exasperated. “Did he listen when I advised him to have a prenup? Noooooo, he was in love. Dumb ass.”
Ronald says to Maria, “You had a case like that last year, too, right?”
“Yes!” she says. “They never learn. I tried to tell my client yesterday about that, too, warning him of what’s likely to happen since he didn’t follow my advice.”
Ronald chimes in, “I think when people get married, they should just plan on getting divorced because that seems to happen more often, especially when large sums of money are involved. Do the prenup! Money does shitty things to people, especially people afraid to be on their own.”
I feel a little nauseous, and I put down my fork. It wasn’t long ago when I was certain I would never marry, because of the risk of a woman going after me only for my money. Sure, I could sign a prenuptial agreement but, fuck, that just seems to increase the odds of a divorce. It’s like you’re planning for it to fail. I hate it. It’s a lose-lose situation.
My collar feels tight, and I loosen my tie. I mean, if I married a billionairess, then it wouldn’t be an issue. I laugh, because the only woman I want is Aspen, and she doesn’t even want my money, probably likes me less for even having it. But Ronald’s words echo in my mind, about money doing strange things to people. And it’s true. I’ve heard enough stories from my dad over the years about the divorce cases in his office. It can get ugly.
I head back to my office, feeling a little jittery, and wishing I were either in the gym, or at home on my deck with a beer. I sit down at my desk and crack my knuckles. Might as well dive into work. Maybe that will distract me.
But ten minutes later, I’m still obsessing. Now I wonder if I’m stupid to go after Aspen. I see the way she looks at me, and I can feel heat radiate off her body when she’s next to me, but she’s told me enough times that she’s not interested in a relationship. Maybe I should just listen to her, and let it go.
Let her go.
It’s not that she doesn’t like me, because I know she does. Rather, she won’t do anything about it. She’s not acting on
