Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ZARA
Standing in a long silky robe that isn’t mine, I stare into the spacious walk-in closet that also isn’t mine and sigh.
I so do not have time for this.
Down the hall, there are about four thousand boxes in my new room that need to be sorted and unpacked. You can’t unpack them, remember? You have no dresser.
I am thirty-one years old, and this morning, I had to borrow sheets from my baby sister because I no longer own any of my own. And yet, here I am, trying to find something to wear because he asked me to—the man responsible for my lack of sheets.
So, this is what my life has become, huh? Begging and borrowing? At least I haven’t reached the stealing part of that phrase yet.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I borrow something?” I holler over my shoulder and then wince, realizing Violet isn’t in the kitchen like she was a moment ago.
No, she’s right behind me.
Jesus, she’s like a sexy little ninja.
“It’s fine, Zara.” My sister laughs, unfazed by the number I probably just did on her eardrum. She gently pushes me aside and gives her closet a cursory once-over before choosing a tight red number that still has the tags on it.
My eyes widen at the price. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how expensive designer clothes can be. Pretty sure my first car cost less than that. “Are you crazy?”
“Relax,” she says, placing the silky fabric in my arms. Then, she steps back and assesses my dark-brown curls and makeup. It must meet the standard because she gives an approving nod. “I got it from work.”
“That’s a damn nice work perk. All I get is the occasional seasonal cold and sore feet.”
“Yeah, well, I tried to persuade you to join the dark side before you dashed off to med school, but you were all I want to help people. Blah, blah, blah…” She shrugs, then walks over and flops down on her bed.
The whole room is very girly and decorated in muted tones of blush and cream.
It looks like something out of a Parisian salon.
Speaking of Paris.
She’s just returned from Paris Fashion Week, and she would be enjoying a bit of downtime if I hadn’t crashed it by moving in.
Yeah, she has that kind of job. The jet-setting, designer wardrobe-wearing, model kind of job.
And yes, before you ask, of course, she’s beautiful.
Like me, she takes after our mother’s mostly Greek heritage, with her olive skin and long, mahogany brown hair.
But unlike me, she inherited our father’s athletic skills and height.
She likes to say I got all his brains and love of science because I’m the doctor of the family, but she’s just being modest. My sister is damn smart too.
“Try it on.” She motions to the dress in my arms.
I do as I’m told and start slipping off the silk robe. “There is only one model in our family, Vi. Seriously, look at these hips!” I point to my curves to emphasize my point.
I never used to be insecure about my looks. In college, I was so focused on schoolwork and getting into med school, I barely gave it a second thought. It wasn’t until I got married that I really started to scrutinize my body.
Now, I feel insecure about…well, everything, honestly.
Having a model-perfect sister has never been part of the issue, though. She’s never made me feel less than adequate. In fact, she often tries to convince me of the exact opposite. Like now, for instance.
She just rolls her eyes. “I have hips too, and trust me, the camera loves them.”
I slide my arms into the straps and walk over to her so she can zip me up.
“See?” She turns me to the side so I can see all those curves for myself. “You’ve got the beauty and”—she finishes the zipper and then playfully smacks my ass—“the brains. Total package, right?”
Although the dress is tighter and definitely sexier than I usually wear to any event with Tanner, it’s still suitable for the occasion. The knee-length, ruched fabric helps boost my confidence a bit. The wide straps and deep neckline also make my cleavage look amazing.
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here, divorced and—” I start to say, but Violet interrupts.
“Nope.” Her head shakes back and forth. “You’re not allowed to say mean things to yourself in this dress. Says right here on the label.”
I roll my eyes.
“Speaking of your asshole ex, why are we doing this? The dressing up and going out with him, I mean.” She arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me.
“Usually, when you sign divorce papers and move into your sister’s swanky ass apartment—you’re welcome, by the way—you aren’t required to attend functions with your husband anymore.
That’s what the ex in ex-husband is for. ”
“I know.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “But he insisted. It’s one of his buddies from college, and since his parents haven’t made the official announcement yet—”
“So…he doesn’t want to be the one who has to tell everyone, so he’s making his mommy and daddy do it?”
I nod. “Well, his dad is a senator. I guess there has to be a statement.”
“And they couldn’t have done that in the last six months?
” She rolls her eyes. “That family is a piece of work.” I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up a finger.
“Don’t make excuses for the man, Zar. That’s not your job anymore.
You may have served him the divorce papers, but he deserved it after the shit he said. ”
“Are you happy?” Tanner asks, and I come to a screeching halt in the middle of our kitchen. It’s such a random, off-the-wall question for him that I find myself momentarily stunned.
Why is he asking?
It’s been a long day for both of us. Maybe that’s it? There’s a stomach bug making its way through the local schools, and with fall sports coming up, everyone’s rushing to get physicals done by the end of the summer.
I place the salad bowl down on the counter and turn toward where he’s perched on a barstool, watching me.
“At this specific moment? Or in general?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but the way he’s looking at me tells me he isn’t amused.
“In general, Zara.”
“Of course I’m happy.” Or I thought I was until about two minutes ago when you started this conversation. Now, I’m nervous, anxious, and kind of nauseous. “Why?”
“I’m just…” He lets out a deep breath. “Bored.”
“Bored?”
He nods, and I feel my stomach clench.
“I just thought it would be more interesting, you know?”
It? “You thought what would be more interesting?”
“The clinic.” He waves his hand in a sweeping gesture. “Life. But it’s just the same thing day after day. Running noses and sprained ankles.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I just keep thinking to myself, ‘Is this really it? Is this how boring life is for regular people?’”
“Regular people?” I stare at him, stunned.
“You know what I mean,” he snaps before his face goes slack again. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need a vacation or something. Perhaps a week in St. Barts will help. I haven’t visited the family house there in years.”
I don’t miss how he seems to be planning a spontaneous tropical vacation for one.
“Next week?” I gape at him. “What about the practice, Tanner? You have patients. You can’t just cancel a week’s worth of appointments to fly off to St. Barts.”
A flash of annoyance crosses his face. “Right. You’re right.”
And then he rises from the stool and stalks off, muttering under his breath about balls and chains and how he’s never going to break free.
The next week, he flies to St. Barts and leaves me to run the clinic by myself.
I take another glance at myself in the mirror. “Do I look okay? It’s not too…revealing?”
My sister gets up off the bed and snorts.
“You look hot, sis. And if you’re worried he’s gonna think it’s too revealing, then it’s perfect.
Goes great with your nails too.” My eyes instantly go to the French manicure I meticulously gave myself the night before.
“Plus, I have a perfect pair of sky-high heels that’ll really piss him off. ”
I turn to the side, and damn, my ass looks amazing. “Great. Can I borrow some earrings too?”
“Now you’re talking!”