Chapter Six
Sierra
I immediately shake Todd’s hand off my shoulder like it’s a snake.
He’s in a peacock mask that covers his face except for the mouth and jaw. It has large feathers sticking out like unkempt morning hair in front of him. The mask glows various shades of gaudy neon in the dark—and it’s blinding in the dimly lit interior of the mansion. There are weird colors, and I realize the mask has letters: Byron.
“Your mask has the wrong name,” I point out, too stunned to think of anything else.
“What?”
“It says Byron.”
He huffs. “It’s a reference to Lord Byron, not that I’d expect you to recognize the name.”
I roll my eyes. I know about Lord Byron—some British poet who I remember mainly for his womanizing ways. He was probably dashing and sexy, though, not paunchy and annoying. But then, Todd always was absurd in his sense of the grandiose.
He’s sporting an untucked and unbuttoned white dress shirt and tight leather pants, like a model for an old-style historical romance novel—the ones that featured barely dressed hotties. Except who would feature him on a romance novel cover, unless the publisher wanted to repel readers?
“How did you know I was going to be here? Are you stalking me?” I demand. Being confronted by your ex-husband should never happen on a divorce-cation!
“Of course not.” He snorts, like I’m stupid. “I would never do that.”
Uh-huh.Apparently, he’s forgotten about the scene he made this morning at Silicone Dream.
“I simply asked around,” he says. “There are people who feel terrible about our divorce, you know.”
My mood sours faster than a tub of yogurt left out in the sun. Heather and Ellie would never let anything slip, but my stepmom or stepsister might have, since Todd is Linda’s nephew and Felicia’s cousin. I don’t make a habit of sharing my activities with either of them, but my divorce-cation isn’t exactly a secret.
“And the rest was easy,” he says. “I just had to sneak in here and hang around, waiting for you.”
“You knew who I was when you saw me?” No way. He’s too oblivious. He didn’t notice when I dyed my hair pink during our first year of marriage.
Which should’ve been another flashing neon sign that he couldn’t be the kind of husband I wanted. And I should’ve paid more attention, instead of telling myself that things would change—that Todd just needed some time to adjust.
I was so stupid back then. Some people are beyond help.
“Yeah, it was hard to find you in this crowd, but I knew you’d come by to check the sample table.” He shoots me a smug grin. “All I had to do was leave a few bottles out of place and then reel you in.”
Ugh. He got me. But even if I knew he’d be watching, it wouldn’t have mattered. My work is important, and I’m not letting an irritating ex-husband stop me from doing what needs to be done.
I cross my arms and give him a hard glare, the kind Dan will level before he eviscerates trespassers and troublemakers. “What do you want, Todd?”
“To talk to you, of course. Since you won’t see me back home.” Todd speaks like it’s all my fault. But he loves to blame me for everything, including the fact that he won’t get tenured. He probably still refuses to accept that I can’t get him tenured when he was hired for a non-tenure position!
“Talk to Samantha if you have something to say.”
“She is the enemy.” His tone says, Don’t you get it?
“She’s my lawyer! I have nothing to say to you.” Uncrossing my arms, I turn around and start to leave.
He grabs my wrist and yanks me back. “I never said you had to talk. But you will listen to me.”
I don’t think so.“Get your hands off me!”
“No! This is important! You’re going to hear me out!”
“You mean you didn’t say enough before?” He would not shut his mouth when we were going through the divorce proceedings. Mainly to complain about how unfair I was for not recognizing his need for self-respect, love and support—all of which could be fulfilled by the handsome sum of ten million dollars in a settlement if I couldn’t stay married to him.