Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ZARA
If there were a guidebook to divorce, I’m pretty sure there would be a whole chapter dedicated to why you absolutely should not work with your ex.
We are barely a week into this, and I already want to kill him.
When I filed for divorce, I didn’t ask for anything.
We had a pretty straightforward prenup, but my lawyer said I could try to push back and get more.
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want any of it.
Not the house nor the business. Not even that plush ivory chaise I loved so much.
I was so devastated and so damn angry that the life I’d built with this man was just considered such a waste of time to him that I didn’t want a single reminder when I walked away.
I just wanted to forget.
But, of course, Tanner’s male pride wouldn’t allow for that. I thought he’d be happy about the prospect of a divorce and the fact that I was being so agreeable and civil about the whole thing. But, once again, I found myself surprised and a bit taken aback when he chose to be offended instead.
“What else was I supposed to do, Tanner?” I shout as I pace back and forth across the living room. He had angrily tossed the manila envelope he was served in my face the moment I returned home from the gym.
“What do you mean, what were you supposed to do? Maybe not blindside me with a fucking divorce, Zara. That’s a start.”
I scoff. “Blindside you? Are you serious? You made it clear you weren’t happy. Has that changed?”
“Well, no, but—”
“But what, Tanner?”
He hesitates. Looks away. “This looks bad.”
“We aren’t living in the nineteenth century, Tanner.
People get divorced all the time.” But then he finally looks at me, and I understand the full meaning behind his words.
“Oh, you mean this looks bad for you? Because your parents didn’t get a chance to get ahead of this first. Because if it comes out that I filed the divorce papers—a ‘regular person,’ as you so eloquently put it—you’ll be embarrassed. ”
He doesn’t deny it.
“You know what, Tanner? Tell people whatever you want,” I snap, picking up the papers once again. I hand them over. “Whatever makes you happy. After all, that’s all that matters, right?”
When his parents did find out, they entered what they called “damage control” mode.
For nearly six months, I reluctantly agreed to live under the same roof with my soon-to-be ex while they worked out the particulars of our divorce. I moved into a guest bedroom, and we only spoke when absolutely necessary, which was pretty much at work, leaving me in a constant state of limbo.
During those six months, I started to look back on my marriage, and I didn’t like what I saw.
What I had always imagined as some grand fairytale was starting to look more like a grim nightmare, and I was ashamed I’d let myself fall for the illusion.
As the months dragged on, Tanner’s admission that night in the kitchen started to feel more like a blessing and less like the tragedy I thought it was. I mean, I didn’t even fight to save my marriage. That had to say something about my feelings toward the man I pledged myself to, right?
I’m not even sure what Tanner’s high-priced lawyers spent so much time working out, seeing as his family had money, a prenup, and mine had none. Perhaps they were waiting for his father’s approval rating to go up. Maybe they were digging into my past, looking for something scathing to pin on me.
After a while, I even began to wonder if they were secretly trying to find Tanner a new bride to lessen the blow of the divorce, but that announcement never came, and eventually, the paperwork was signed.
As expected, he got everything. When I was offered a small amount of spousal support, I declined. I never want to be tied to him or his family again.
I want to leave it all in the past.
I have a feeling, though, that it won’t be that simple with the Price family.
It’s Monday morning, and I’m in the small kitchenette that’s stuffed in the back of our modern medical practice, trying to guzzle down a lukewarm cup of tea when Tanner strolls in.
He gives me an appraising stare. We’ve agreed I can stay on as a physician as long as I want, with the understanding that I am no longer considered a partner.
Just a staff member.
That’s right. My ex is now my boss too.
Oh, and as expected, he’s pissed that I ditched him Saturday night. When I texted him late Saturday night after Hendrix left, I lied and told him I got a migraine and didn’t want to interrupt him while he was bonding with his college bros.
The fact that he didn’t respond was confirmation enough. You did not walk out on Tanner Price.
I almost considered telling him the truth, just to piss him off further. But this divorce thing is new, and I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with a jealous ex.
Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever see Hendrix again.
I didn’t even get his number. Oh my god, I didn’t get his number. Damn, why am I so upset about that? Probably because it was only the best sex of my life.
“Did you visit room four yet?” Tanner asks, eyeing me coolly.
No, I’m just chilling in here with my cup of tea while the mom and her sick baby wait for me. “Yup,” I answer instead.
“And?”
I do not appreciate his tone. It reminds me of this attending physician I worked with during my residency who always acted like the female residents were simply there to annoy him.
“And…she was positive for strep.”
“Did you check for the flu too?”
It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to roll my eyes. Or toss my drink in his stupid face. He does remember how I practically carried him through med school, right? “Of course.”
He’s about to say something else—something idiotic, no doubt—when one of our receptionists, Loren, knocks on the open door to announce herself. We both turn to see her sheepish smile spread. “Sorry to interrupt. Zara, you have a visitor.”
My brow raises. “Who is it?”
Her pale skin turns fire-engine red. “I, uh, forgot to catch his name.”
That’s not like her. She’s usually so organized, she puts Monica Gellar to shame. I watch her fiddle with her curly blonde hair, avoiding eye contact with a visibly annoyed Tanner.
“He’s super tall. Tattooed. Hot.” The emphasis on the last word, if possible, makes her cheeks flush even redder.
Shit.
What was I saying about never seeing him again?
Tanner’s head jerks to mine. “What the hell, Zara? Are you seeing someone already?”
“No,” I deflect, knowing I need to get out of this kitchen. Fast. “Also, we’ve been separated for six months, Tanner. And, not that it’s any of your business, but he’s just a friend. Someone I know from college.”
Just a friend. Do friends fuck?
I turn my attention back to Loren. “I’ll meet him up front.”
I’m about to make my exit until Tanner’s third degree resumes. You would think he’s jealous, but really, I think he’s more concerned about appearances than anything. Can’t have me moving on first. How would that look? And before the formal announcement? Gasp!
“From college? Who? And since when do you have visitors at the office?”
“Since today.” I shrug, giving him an arduous expression. “I didn’t know he was popping in, but it’s not a big deal. It’s—”
“Hendrix Creed?”
“What? How did you—” My gaze follows him, and oh my god, he’s right there. Barely inches from where I’m standing at the entrance of the breakroom. Tall, tattooed, and dressed in faded jeans and a black tee. His last name is inked in bold, black script along his sculpted forearm.
I blush. I’ve licked that tattoo.
His eyes meet mine and then go to Tanner and widen ever so slightly before I see his expression harden.
Oh, right. I did omit that detail, didn’t I?
“Hey, Tan. Good to see you.” His words seem friendly, but his tone clearly isn’t.
Tanner’s jaw tics. If there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s being called Tan. “I didn’t realize you and my wife were friends.”
Hendrix leans against the doorframe and folds one muscled forearm in front of the other.
“Your ex-wife and I go way back.” He pauses as if letting that information sink in, but offers no further explanation.
On purpose, I’m sure. Then, his gaze shifts, and those striking blue eyes find mine.
My stomach does this stupid fluttery thing.
“Can we talk?” His gaze flicks back to Tanner for the briefest moment. “In private.”
I see Tanner’s knuckles turn white at his sides, and I fight a smile. “Follow me.”
The second I close my office door behind us, we both try to speak at the same time. But before I can get out even the first syllable, I hear him say, “Tanner Price? You married Tanner fucking Price?”
I assumed Tanner and Hendrix knew each other in college because of their mutual friendship with Edwin, but I never mentioned to Tanner that I had tutored Hendrix. I think I knew what he’d say—what he’d think—and I wanted to keep those memories free from his opinion.
They were mine.
I wince as I make my way around the desk to sit down. “A decision I distinctly regret, if you remember our conversation the other night.”
“At least it makes a little more sense why you were there.”
I scoff. “He is the only reason I was there. And after Saturday, I can definitively say that will be my last appearance as Mrs. Price.”
“You’re not, though,” he says, taking the chair opposite me.
His eyes seem to linger on my breasts before I realize he’s looking at the name embroidered on my white coat.
“Mrs. Price? Because I found your practice by searching under Valentine. Didn’t bother checking who your douchey doctor husband was, though. Was a bit in a hurry…”
My lips quirk. “Yeah, quite the sore subject in the Price family. That I didn’t take his name,” I reiterate. “But I knew how intertwined our careers would be, and I needed mine to be separate from theirs. In hindsight, it was a good choice. Saved me a shitload of paperwork.”