“Is it nice to be back in your apartment at least?”
I nodded, avoiding Violet’s gaze. “Sure.” I hadn’t been back to my apartment since I landed yesterday. I couldn’t face it—it was the ultimate reminder that Ryder and I weren’t together. I couldn’t be home alone. If I could have moved out of New York, I would have. This city seemed to be at the core of my unhappiness. I’d relocated here to prove to my ex that I didn’t need to have the next forty years of my life planned out. I’d come back here, now things were over with Ryder. This place represented my failures.
“I’m worried about you. I know you liked this guy, so why are you pretending that it’s no big deal that you broke up?” Violet asked.
I sighed and sat back on the leather bench. “What’s the alternative? I’m sick of being miserable. Crying isn’t going to make me happy.”
“So, you admit you’re upset?”
“Is that what you want to hear? You want me to wallow in how awful my life is?” Was my sister trying to torture me?
“Yeah, that’s what I want—for you to be miserable.”
I glanced up as she rolled her eyes at me. “I’m trying to help. Just be honest with me and tell me what happened. You know what they say, a problem shared is a problem halved.”
“You’re ridiculous. No one says that.”
“Humor me. I’m your little sister. You know I get my own way eventually, so just give in now. It’s easier.”
As much as I might complain, I wouldn’t have agreed to drinks tonight unless I’d really wanted to see Violet. I covered my face as my eyes began to water. “I’ve been such an idiot, Violet.” I gulped back my tears.
The bench dipped slightly beside me as Violet sat down, wrapping me in a one-armed hug. How had I let myself have feelings for a man who was so clear about what he wanted from me—sex and a wedding ring? How had I misread the signs so badly?
“Can we have another two rounds,” she asked a passing server. I wasn’t about to complain, alcohol couldn’t possibly make things worse.
“I’m going to kick his fucking ass,” Violet muttered. Her sympathy burst through my wall of indifference like a wrecking ball. I still couldn’t believe after all Ryder and I had shared, he hadn’t even had the balls to give me the papers himself.
It shouldn’t matter. I always knew divorce was the next step in our relationship. Ryder wasn’t the kind of guy to settle down. He’d told me as much over and over again. Still, for a man who’d never had an adult relationship, he was awfully good in one. So attentive and kind and . . . loving.
It had felt so real.
“What a douchebag,” Violet said under her breath. “But at least you got your company.”
True. And I should be grateful that Cecily Fragrance was free of debt. At least my career wouldn’t collapse. There had been one good thing to come out of my divorces. The first divorce had pushed me into business, and the second had saved it. But if I’d known how much it would hurt, how high the cost to my heart would be, I never would have married Ryder.
“I can’t believe he was so cold,” I said.
“Well, he is British.”
So? Ryder had never been cold with me. Darcy had been nothing but kind and friendly and their grandfather had a heart as warm as the sun. Just as my tears had slowed, a fresh batch appeared.
“His grandfather gave me a necklace. I think it led me to hope that maybe we could work out.” The duke had hinted that even though our relationship hadn’t had a conventional start, that there was a chance of it turning into something real, just like his own marriage had. “Ryder’s grandfather really grew to love his wife—but only after they got married.”
“And you were hoping Ryder would grow to love you, too?” Violet asked.
I nodded. “How could I have been so na?ve?”
“Because you’d grown to love him,” Violet concluded when I didn’t say anything.
She didn’t need my confirmation. We both knew she was right. I hugged my arms to my stomach, wanting the sharp pain to subside. When had I started to love him?
“You’re such a good judge of character, normally,” Violet said, almost to herself.
“How can you say that? I’m about to be divorced for the second time in two years.”
“Well, when you put it like that. It’s just that the first guy you married was a good guy—”
“Violet,” I groaned. “I don’t want to hear how my breakups have been all my fault.”
“I’m not saying that at all. Hear me out. He was a good guy. You were both just too young. And Ryder? I mean I didn’t know him that well, but he seemed decent. Seeing you together at the wedding? I just don’t get why he’d just serve you with divorce papers when you had such a good thing going.”
“He saved his company. And mine. The deal is done.”
“Maybe,” Violet said.
“There is no maybe. That’s how it went down.” I blotted my eyes with a cocktail napkin. I had to get it together. “I’ll be okay. It was just a shock. I’ll go back to my apartment tomorrow.” Ryder hadn’t misled me, hadn’t lied. I needed to put my big girl pants on and get the fuck over him. I picked up my drink and tipped it back.
“I thought you were back at your place? You’re not staying at his apartment, are you?” Violet asked.
Shit, I hadn’t meant to mention that. “No, I just stayed here in the hotel last night. I didn’t want to go home—”
“Scarlett, why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I don’t want to sleep on your couch.”
“I don’t want you on my couch either. But I could have come over and had room service on you.”
I nudged her in the ribs and she giggled, sipping her cocktail. “I mean it. I love room service. If you’re staying here tonight, count me in, sister of mine.”
I knew she wanted to stay to keep me company, to hold me if my tears started again. But I appreciated that she covered up her concern with faux selfishness. Violet always knew just what to do. “Shall we go get in our jammies and find a cooking show to watch?” I asked.
“Sounds like a great idea. And if he calls, I’ll answer,” Violet said. “Has he called?”
I shook my head. “He won’t. The divorce papers said it all. And anyway, I left my cell in England, along with the key to his apartment.”
“How will you get your stuff back?”
I shrugged. “I was so focused on leaving him I never thought about it. I just wanted to step back through the wardrobe and for him to have been a figment of my imagination.”
“Oh well, we’ll figure it out. I can collect your things. And knee him in the balls,” she said, making a jerking motion with her legs that wouldn’t scare a nervous Chihuahua. I didn’t like her chances where Ryder was concerned, but I liked the sentiment.
After all, why should I be the only one hurting?