The Pre-Nup Page 3

  “Very nice.” She glanced at the ring, but didn’t pick it up. “But do you have anything a little less, uh, flashy?”

  Roger’s ingratiating simper wilted. “What did you have in mind?”

  She stood up and started scanning the display cases. “I want something understated but chic.” She paused and tapped the polished glass. “Something like that.”

  Roger sighed. “The tiny sapphires?”

  “I like the blue.” Mara nodded. “Gives the whole thing a little kick.”

  “Matches your eyes,” Josh said.

  She and Josh indulged in another totally shameless public display of affection while the salesman grudgingly unlocked the display case and pulled out the sapphire-studded band. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, then escaped to find more commission-worthy prey.

  “You realize, of course, that we’re making people physically ill,” Mara murmured.

  “Uh-huh.” Josh’s lips smiled against hers.

  “We’re the couple that everyone hates.”

  He started kissing his way down toward her neck. “They’re just jealous.”

  “I told you booze and jewelry was a dangerous combo.” She slid her hand underneath his dark green wool jacket, where her fingers encountered a bulky lump in the lining’s inner pocket. “What’s this?”

  “Oh.” He ran his hands through his hair as she extracted a thick sheaf of folded papers. “That’s just the new draft of the pre-nup. I was going to give it back to you earlier, but this didn’t really seem to be the right time. Kind of kills the mood, you know?”

  “Don’t be like that.” Mara kept her smile flirty and her tone light. “There’s no need to feel weird about it. I know it’s annoying and uptight and all, but—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You attorneys. Always with the worst-case scenarios.” Josh’s smile faded. “Doesn’t it seem a little defeatist to be talking about divorce before we’re even married?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “It’s not defeatist at all. It’s just common sense. A mere formality.” Mara had always believed that couples like Josh and herself—couples who were going to make it to their golden anniversary and beyond—had nothing to fear from a fair and sensible contract protecting the assets they’d accumulated before they said “I do.”

  “Yeah, well.” He scuffed at the carpet with the toe of his black leather Rockports. “I got a lawyer to look over the PDF file you sent, and he basically said the same thing you did: standard stuff, very straightforward.”

  “So we’re all set? Then let’s move on to more pressing matters. Like our honeymoon.” She put her hand back on his chest.

  “Well…” Josh still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “We’re almost all set. My guy reworded a few sentences for clarification, added a short clause or two, nothing major.”

  “Nothing major?” Mara narrowed her eyes as her bullshit detector kicked into high gear. “Like what, exactly?”

  “All his changes are in red ink. Look, let’s do this later. Right now, we’ll get back to picking out rings and—”

  She skimmed through the dense legalese with practiced efficiency. “Okay…fine…okay…Hold up.” Her eyes widened as she spied a brand-new clause inserted at the end of the pre-nup’s third page. “What the hell is this?”

  Mara had never had a panic attack—she always preferred fight over flight—but for a few paralyzing seconds, she honestly thought she might pass out right there on the plush green carpet. Her palms started to sweat, her heart raced, and the only thing that kept her on her feet was the thought of Roger’s big furry head looming over her to administer CPR.

  Josh’s voice sounded distant. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  She staggered backward, swaying on her high-heeled boots.

  “Don’t get upset, I can explain.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything!” Her hip slammed into the glass counter and she knew she’d develop a bruise later, but right now, the pain didn’t even register. “I can read it for myself in black and white. Jesus. Josh, this is really what you think of me?”

  “Wait, you’re missing the point here.” He reached out for her hands, but she balled her fingers into fists.

  “No, I get the point. Right through the heart. I—” She swiped at her eyes, horrified to realize that she was about to tear up. She hadn’t cried in years, hadn’t even come close since her first semester of law school, when her voice had cracked at the end of a blistering Socratic cross-examination during Civil Procedure. “Why did you even propose to me? Honestly?”

  “Mara, come on…”

  She pivoted, stalked past the trays of glittering jewels, shoved her way out through the glass doors, and whipped out her cell phone as she hit the sidewalk.

  “Hey,” she said when Jen answered. “Remember how I said I was booked solid this afternoon? Change of plans. I’m coming over right now, and I’m going to need about three bottles of wine when I get there. Brace yourself. You are not going to believe what just happened.”

  Ellie Chapter 4

  Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy,” Hannah whined from the backseat of Ellie’s BMW.

  Ellie exhaled slowly and white-knuckled the SUV’s steering wheel. “Daddy’s working, baby. You know that. He’ll be home for dinner.”

  At least, she hoped he would. “I’m playing nine holes with the guys from the Oro Vista Center deal,” he’d announced in the kitchen that morning after she returned from her walk with Mara and Jen. “Maybe eighteen if we have time. See you around six-thirty?”

  And then he’d poured some of her freshly brewed coffee into an insulated travel mug and breezed out the door. She’d stared after him, contemplating Mara’s advice about tax returns and keystroke loggers, until Hannah tugged on her hand and demanded waffles for breakfast. Then she’d gotten them both dressed and plodded with her daughter through the Saturday crowds at the grocery store and the post office. She had one last stop to make on today’s suburbanista tour of duty: the bank. There was certainly no harm in making a list of the contents of all the accounts and the safety deposit box before…well, before things got even more out of hand.

  It’s just a little preemptive photocopying, she told herself. And they’re my accounts, too. He’s the one who should feel guilty, not me.

  For once, she was going to let her head overrule her heart. Then tonight, after she’d tucked Hannah into bed, she’d confront Michael and they could discuss this like rational adults. Well, “rational adults” might be a bit overambitious. Even semirational was a stretch. She’d try her best to refrain from strangling him to death with a lacy red thong. And ramming his beloved little PDA right up his—

  One thing at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. She braked for a red light and forced her body to relax, starting with her shoulder muscles and working her way down to her toes.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Hannah kicked at the back of the driver’s seat. “I want juice. And a cookie.”

  “I just gave you a snack, honey.”

  “Don’t like carrot sticks,” Hannah whined. “I’m still hungry.” She pronounced this word with plaintive desperation: hon-gry.

  “Hang on, we’re almost home. I bought some grapes at the store and we can—”

  She broke off in mid-sentence as she noticed a familiar silver Mercedes parked in front of the cozy little bistro across the street.

  And there, right next to Michael’s car, was a sleek red convertible with a vanity license plate: VIX MD.

  “It’s your lucky day, little girl,” Ellie announced as she executed an illegal U-turn directly over the road’s landscaped median. “Mommy’s going to give you a snack right now!”

  “Not carrots?” Hannah asked suspiciously.

  Ellie kept her gaze trained on the restaurant’s front door while she waited for a hulking white Cadillac to inch out of the parking lot’s only available space. “No, something much better than carrots.” She tried to remember the contents of the grocery sacks piled in the cargo area
. “Cheerios.”

  “Don’t want Cheerios,” Hannah said.

  “How about a granola bar?” Ellie offered as she piloted the SUV into the now-vacant parking spot.

  “No.” Hannah’s little feet thrummed against the back of the driver’s seat again. “I hate granola.”

  Ordinarily, Ellie would have quelled this brattiness with a firm hand and a lecture series on good manners. But right now…

  “Hey, what about chocolate chips? I know you like chocolate chips.”

  Hannah squealed at her incredible good fortune. Ellie rolled down the back windows a few inches and turned off the ignition, then raced around to unearth the bright yellow bag of chocolate and a juice box.

  “Here you go, honey.” She ripped open the plastic with her teeth and thrust the bag at her daughter. “Mommy will be right back. Just stay put for a minute.”

  Hannah glanced down at the web of car seat straps rendering her immobile and nodded. “’Kay.” She plunged her hand into the chocolate chips and crammed a fistful into her mouth.

  Ellie hit the “lock” button on her automated key fob and raced over to peer through the café’s plate-glass window. She cupped her hands above her eyes and squinted to see past the glare of the afternoon sun.

  Busted.

  Her perfect, polished husband sat in the back corner booth. As she watched, he flashed his dimpled grin and reached across the table to refill the wineglass of a woman whose face Ellie couldn’t see.

  But still. A quick glimpse of silhouette was sufficient to ascertain that his companion had the body of a lingerie model and long, dark hair straight out of a shampoo commercial.

  Michael tilted his head and nodded as he hung on to his dining companion’s every word. That focus, that intensity, had always been his forte. He had the power to block out the rest of the world and make you feel like you were the only person who mattered. He used to do that with Ellie, back when they were first dating.

  Ellie had thought that she could never feel any more heartbroken and alone than she had last night in the tub. But as she watched her husband in the act of betrayal, she realized that last night had provided only a tiny taste of the bitterness churning up inside her.

  “Mommy?” Hannah called from inside the car. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “I’m…” Her hands dropped to her side and she realized she was still clutching the juice box. “I’m just looking, baby.”

  “At what? I wanna see.”

  “Eat your snack, Hannah.” This was real. This was happening. Her family was imploding right before her eyes.

  And she was just standing here. Gaping. Accepting it like the good little girl she’d always been. Surely these circumstances called for extreme measures: yelling, smashing things, throwing one’s wedding band through the sewer grates. Jen would march right in and slap the cheating weasel. Mara probably would have set the red convertible on fire by now. She had to shake off this paralysis and take action.

  Slowly and deliberately, Ellie punctured the juice box’s foil seal with the thin green straw and drizzled apple juice all over VIX MD’s buttery black leather car interior.

  “That’s what you get for leaving the top down,” she murmured as the car alarm started shrieking.

  “Mommy! Make it stop!” Hannah covered her ears with chocolate-smeared fingers.

  “It’s all right, sweetie, we’re leaving now.” Ellie climbed back into the car with a savage little smile. She’d finally gotten Michael’s full attention. He stood frozen in the restaurant’s doorway, staring out at her with a mixture of shock and horror.

  Then Ellie got a good look at Vixen_MD and stopped smiling. The willowy brunette standing next to Michael could only be described as stunning. She had long, shapely legs and full, pouty lips and she didn’t look the least bit alarmed at the thought of what apple juice would do to her upholstery. She met Ellie’s gaze with an air of frank assessment, then arched one tapered black eyebrow.

  Really? that eyebrow said. That’s all you’ve got?

  The stitching on the steering wheel dug into Ellie’s fingers as she backed out of the parking space and merged into traffic. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. To hell with that husband-poaching harpy and her condescending smirks. Ellie had won. She’d made her rage known and unleashed her inner bitch. With organic apple juice. Which, admittedly, might not be the most formidable instrument of revenge, but she awarded herself points for creativity.

  In the backseat, Hannah flung aside the bag of chocolate and announced, “I don’t feel good.”

  Pity. That was the emotion flickering in the brunette’s eyes. She hadn’t seemed threatened because, to her, Ellie was nothing more than a vapid suburban housewife who lounged around eating bonbons all day. Organic apple juice would only add to her derision. She was probably throwing her head back formidable, laughing about the sad little soccer mom’s fit of pique.

  Sweat poured down Ellie’s forehead. Apple juice! What had she been thinking? She should have stormed into the café and grabbed a fistful of steak knives! She should have—

  “Mommy, I don’t…uh-oh.” Hannah gagged, then vomited all over her car seat.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Ellie jabbed at her hazard lights and pulled over to the side of the road. “It’s okay. You just ate too much chocolate. Hang on. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

  My fault, she admonished herself as she rummaged through the glove compartment for a package of wet wipes. Bad mother, bad wife, bad person.

  Hannah threw up again as soon as Ellie finished wiping up the first round, then announced, “All better.”

  “Good.” Ellie smoothed her daughter’s silky blond curls. “We’ll go home now. You can watch a movie and sip some ginger ale.”

  “’Kay.” Hannah smiled up angelically.

  Ellie set her jaw and flicked on her right blinker. “Mommy just has to do one more thing real fast.”

  The red convertible’s alarm had stopped blaring but Ellie triggered it again when she pulled up behind the car and lobbed the vomit-soaked wipes into the driver’s seat.

  Michael sprinted out to the parking lot, his face red and his eyes wide.

  “Holy shit, Ellie! What are you—”

  “Watch your mouth.” Ellie slammed out of the SUV and strode over to confront him.

  “Hi, Daddy!” Hannah chirped from the backseat.

  Michael’s face changed from crimson to chalk white in the space of two seconds. “Hi, sweet pea.” He lowered his voice and hissed, “I mean it, Ellie. I demand to know what you think you’re doing.”

  “Oh, really, you demand?” She brandished her car keys like a weapon. “Well, I have a few demands of my own.”

  “You…?” He blinked a few times. “What is going on with you?”

  She widened her stance. “I know, Michael.”

  He regarded her with what appeared to be genuine confusion. “About…?”

  “Don’t play dumb.” She jabbed her index finger toward the restaurant. “You. Her. I know. So give it up.”

  He opened his hands and turned both palms toward her. “What are you talking about? That’s one of my new clients. Dr. Victoria Locane. She’s looking for new office space out by the Biltmore.”

  Ellie let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Michael, honestly. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Stop, okay? Stop talking before you make this worse for everybody. Including Hannah.”

  Michael’s voice eased into a low, gentle cadence. “You’re not making any sense, honey. Take a deep breath and calm down—”

  “You’re supposed to be golfing,” she reminded him. “Nine holes? The Oro Vista deal? Ring any bells?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Those guys got stuck in traffic coming across from the west valley. The Fifty-one freeway’s under construction, so I pushed the tee time back to two-thirty. Since I had a few free hours, I offered to take Dr. Locane to look at some potential office sites. I tried to call you
, but you didn’t answer your cell.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a sheaf of real estate listings. “This is just business. So whatever it is that you’re accusing me of—”

  “I’m accusing you of Vixen_MD and the red thong.”

  His jaw slackened and his eyes went wide with panic.

  “Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms tightly and nodded. “Well, I guess that settles that.”

  “Ellie, listen,” he croaked. “You don’t understand.”

  Something inside her snapped as he collapsed into contrition. She dug the jagged tip of her key into the convertible’s shiny red paint and knew she should stop—this was so adolescent, so undignified—but she couldn’t. Rage completely engulfed her restraint. She gouged metal against metal all the way from hood to trunk.

  Michael looked horrified. “What are you doing?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m going home, I’m putting Hannah down for a nap, and then I’m hiring an attorney. As of this moment, we are no longer married.”

  Jen Chapter 5

  Clause 7: Obligation of Fidelity

  It is further acknowledged that the parties’ marriage is intended to be an exclusive relationship between Husband and Wife that is premised upon the values of emotional and sexual fidelity, and mutual trust. The parties hereto are subject to a legal obligation of emotional and sexual fidelity to the other.

  In the event it is shown by a preponderance of the evidence in a court that either party has engaged in any breach of the obligation of sexual fidelity as defined hereinabove, the following terms and conditions shall become effective…

  Wow.” Jen scanned the text, shook her head, and then read it again. “That is…”