“Excuse me?” I bit out. “The shit I pulled? She left me. So get off your high horse and get to the point where I’m supposed to care right now. I’m not doing anything wrong by sending her money that is rightfully and legally hers.”
“It’s not legally hers! You made certain of that.”
That I did. And I’d never forget the agonizing pain on her face when I’d told her that, in exchange for her fifty percent of Leblanc Industries, she could keep everything else.
The house.
The furniture.
The cars.
The dog.
Tripp.
She had gotten our entire lives.
I’d walked away with a suitcase—and the yet-to-be-developed Rubicon.
“Yeah, well…I’m feeling generous. Besides, judging by that piece of shit she’s still driving, she needs it.”
“Aaaand…how the hell do you know what she drives?”
Because I’ve driven by our old house enough times over the last two years to wear potholes in the roads. “I saw it parked at the cemetery the other day.”
She gasped. “You went to the cemetery?”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t sound so surprised. He was my son.”
“Was he? Because, if I remember correctly, when she finally buried the urn last winter, you were nowhere to be found.”
“I was working!” I defended. It was a lie. But there was no way I was copping to what I’d really been doing that day. Not even to my sister.
“You’re always working, Roman! I had to make an appointment with your secretary a month ago so we could have dinner last night.”
“Okay, so now you’re bitching at me because I work too much?”
She drew in a sharp breath and then demanded, “Stop with the checks. She’s finally getting her shit back together, and you’re just making it harder. I swear to God, if you ever loved her, then you’ll stop this bullshit right now. You signed the divorce papers two years ago, Roman. Let. Her. Go.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. She was right, but it ate a hole through my soul to think about Elisabeth wanting for anything. Wife or not. Just because our marriage hadn’t worked out didn’t mean I didn’t still care about her. But there was only so much I could do. I’d lucked out and been able to pay the house off, but only because she hadn’t been able to afford to remove me from the deed yet. Short of dropping briefcases of cash on her porch, my options were limited.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew she hadn’t cashed any of the checks I’d mailed her. But there was a level of comfort in knowing that the next one was in the mail. She hated me, and she was stubborn as hell. But she was at least reasonable. If she got desperate, she’d swallow her pride and cash it. And that knowledge was the only reason I slept at night.
“I’ll consider it,” I lied.
“You’ll consider it?” she yelled. “There’s nothing to consider, Roman. Stop sending her the checks!”
I shook my head and pushed back from my desk. “Look, I need to go. See what you can do about getting her to cash that last one and I’ll consider stopping.”
“She’s not gonna cash—”
“Then convince her,” I ordered, standing up and digging my wallet and keys from my desk drawer. “She’s shit at selling houses. I looked it up—she only sold four last year. Her specialty is interior design, not real estate. If I know her at all, she probably treats them like puppies and falls in love with each house, refusing to sell them to owners she deems unfit. Kit, she needs that money. We both know it.”
She was silent for several beats, and then she let out a groan of frustration. “Were you dropped as a child?”
I grinned, knowing I’d won. Kristen was quite possibly the only person in the world who could convince Elisabeth to accept money from me. Hell, if Kristen got her mind set on it, she could negotiate world peace. The woman was pushy as shit. I credited my skills in negotiating business deals to having grown up with her. We hadn’t had conversations around the dinner table—we’d had debates. And, judging by the ease in which she’d given in during this little spat, it meant she had agreed that I should have been sending Elisabeth that money before she’d even called.
“No more than you were,” I smarted back.
“Shit. Maybe that’s our problem,” she whispered.
“Could be. Now, I really need to go. We’ll talk soon.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’ll probably talk to your secretary first.”
I shoved a hand in my pocket and smirked. “Probably.”
“About time you showed up,” Luke said, spinning in his chair as I walked into the gym with Tessa on my hip.
I peeked over my shoulder at the childcare room. “Yeah…uh…please tell me there’s someone in there still.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, moving around the counter.
“Thank God,” I breathed, my shoulders drooping in relief. “Sorry I’m late. I…um…lost track of time.” I swallowed hard, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice.