Let's Play Make-Believe Read Free Page B

through the system quickly. No-fault. That’s all I kept hearing. It’s a great idea until you realize your ex-wife gets nearly half of your earnings for the next eight years. It’s brutal. Now I live in a rented condo in downtown West Palm and work my ass off just to stay afloat.”
    “I hope you realize you don’t have to spend money just to impress me.”
    “I’m having a hard time spending enough money just to keep eating. I figured you were impressed with my sexual skills.” That sly smile of his made anything he said adorable.
    I leaned across the seat and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then I couldn’t help but bite his earlobe.
    Somehow I couldn’t resist asking, “What’s your ex-wife’s name?”
    “Teal. I swear to God my ex-wife is named Teal.”
    That made us both laugh.
    Marty said, “She told me she’d always supported me emotionally when I was working. She said I only wanted her happy, in shape, and at home. Then, at the last court proceeding, she said, ‘Now I am happy, in shape, and at home, and you gotta pay for it awhile longer.’”
    Marty took a moment to gather himself. “You know what else she told me?”
    “No, what?”
    “She told me I should meet someone, I’d feel better.” He took his eyes off the road to look at me. “You know what?”
    “What?”
    “She was right.” He had to pull the car to the narrow shoulder of the road in Highland Beach just to kiss me the way he wanted to.

Chapter 6
    Once we were past the Lake Worth beach and still heading north on A1A, I told Marty to slow down just a little. I pointed out all the local landmarks I knew so well: the tennis courts at Phipps Park; the condos on Sloan’s Curve; and the big houses that sat just off the road, whose residents I named for Marty.
    When we were north of the Bath and Tennis Club and clear of Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago, I had Marty park in one of the spots next to a tiny beach bungalow, more like a cabana, on the beach side of South Ocean. I knew there was no one inside. It was only used occasionally, and even then, just as a way to shower off after swimming in the ocean. I pointed across the street to a mansion that looked like it was surrounded by a golf course.
    “See that castle over there? Twenty thousand, two hundred twenty-seven square feet. I’ve measured it. To the inch. That used to be my house. That’s where I lived and planned to stay the rest of my life. I loved that place. And my dick of a husband took it away.”
    “I’ve heard about your husband. Everyone on the island knows Brennan Moore.”
    “Don’t get me started on that guy.” Then, without meaning to, I launched into my own imitation. I tried to put on that irritating, fake accent, as if he had gone to Yale. “This just isn’t working out, Christy, dear. I think it’s best we go our separate ways.” Then I returned to my own voice, trying to keep the bitterness out of it without much success. “That was it. No emotion, no anger. Just his assessment of what was going on and how he intended to correct it. Of course he was bold, because he knew he had a prenup and could lock me out of most of his assets. Not to mention, he had the best attorneys, who I’m sure were ready for this for some time before he said anything to me.”
    “How’s it make you feel now to look up at that house?”
    “Angry. Really, really fucking angry.” I thought it was best if I didn’t go on. I wasn’t proud of this side of me. But the fact was, I didn’t deserve to be in this position. I was a good wife who’d never even thought about straying and always put Brennan’s interests first. I thought that was what couples did. That each wanted the other to be happier than them. Now I was in the real world and I knew that kind of thinking was some part of a fantasy life.
    I barely responded when Marty slipped his arm around me to give me a supportive hug. All I could think of was the Italian marble I’d picked out and the true craftsman I’d