- 7.
“What do you mean?”
Nick sat down, scowling at me, his face a
mask of confusion.
“This tantrum has gone on long enough. You’re not some cute little girl anymore. You
can’t just throw a fit and expect me to fix it.”
Of course, I wasn’t.
If he didn’t still feel guilty about something,
he wouldn’t even give me this much attention.
The only person he’d drop everything for was
Summer Snow.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to throw a
Г
I slid the divorce papers closer to him.
He suspiciously flipped through the pages, his expression growing darker.
I didn’t get it.
He knew the terms I was offering were ridiculously generous to him.
Why was he hesitating?
He slammed the papers down in front of me,
face red with anger.
“I’ve told you a million times, keep your
personal crap out of the office!”
I looked up at him and said calmly:
Г
“It’s not business hours. What’s wrong with talking about our personal lives?”
Nick was at a loss for words. The lecture died in his throat.
For the first time, I saw embarrassment flicker across Nick’s face.
How pathetic. He never looked embarrassed
that first time he and Summer went on a date and I walked in on it.
Nick floundered for a few seconds before he found an angle to keep attacking me.
“This agreement is filled with accusations and
raw emotion. It’s not even close to
professional.”
“So you are throwing a tantrum! Using this to vent. Lindsey, get a grip.”
He crossed his arms, just like he did the first day I started at the firm.
He told me my draft was trash, that I couldn’t bring my own feelings into client cases.
And I tried so hard to learn, desperate for his approval.
Now, hearing those words just made me laugh.
He didn’t have standards for everyone.
He just had them for me.
