Page 57 of Forever King

As much as I don’t want to believe it, I know exactly why he’d lie.

20

Matthias

The flighthere went as well as can be expected, but after getting little sleep on the plane, I’m not sure there’s enough coffee in all of London to get me ready for this meeting with my ex. I catch myself thinking that and have to sadly correct myself.

Jillian, my soon-to-be ex. After today, she damn well better be my ex, or there’s no way my wedding to Ava will happen in eleven days from now.

I gulp down my coffee and then head over to pour myself a second in the hopes it will make me sharp. Dammit, I wish I could sleep on flights like other people can.

Cynthia sets up her folders and papers in front of her on the shiny wood conference table and sips at her cup of coffee. “You ready?”

With a shrug, I say, “I guess, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be ready for, to be honest. I don’t understand why this couldn’t have been done with me sitting at my own deskback in New York. Or even better, at my desk in my office at my own damn house.”

She smiles, but it’s a wary smile. “Just try to stay calm. She wants to speak to you in person, and I don’t think blowing up is going to help her to sign the papers today.”

“So pretty much give her whatever she wants?” I ask, confused since that’s what I promised over two weeks ago.

“Yes, but I want to warn you that since this is in person, watch your tone of voice and facial expressions. We want to walk out of here today with her signature, not her storming out because you pissed her off.”

I smile at that description since I don’t think Jillian has ever stormed out of anywhere. She’s far too genteel for that.

“Trust me. I’m Mr. Nice all the way today with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.”

Cynthia rolls her eyes. “Take it easy there, buddy. I don’t want you breaking into some showtune or anything.”

As if I’ve ever broken into song, especially a showtune, in my entire life.

“Got it. Pleasant and nothing more.”

I look past her through the glass doors and see Jillian and her lawyer walking toward the conference room. She’s still the same woman I remember with long blond hair and that serious expression she always wears. Dressed in a black skirt and red silk blouse, she reminds me of one night when we went out to dinner right after we met. It wasn’t a bad night, but other than what she wore, I have little memory of the date or most of our time together.

The doors open, and they walk over to the other side of the conference table. Her lawyer, a man I guess might be forty, looks flinty, a word my father used to use for anyone who appeared like they wanted to give him a hard time. He’d hate this guy withhis slicked back dark hair and thin lips that seem to have created a single, barely visible line where his mouth should be.

“Good morning. I see you arrived safely,” he says in a refined British accent that nonetheless can’t hide that he’s unhappy about something.

I force myself to smile, even though Jillian hasn’t met my gaze yet since she entered the room. Cynthia stands to shake hands with the attorney, who I hear her call Stanford, and they begin to talk about what they hope to accomplish today.

This all seems unnecessarily complicated. I want a divorce. I doubt Jillian wants to stay married to me. I’m sure this is all some mistake created by having to go through lawyers for the past few weeks.

Still, I do as Cynthia recommended and stay quiet while she and Stanford hash out the preliminaries. Without anything to do until Jillian looks over at me, I study her and notice she looks thinner now. Never a heavy person, she seems like she’s lost weight, especially in her face. Perhaps she’s sick. Maybe that’s why she wanted to meet in person. Is it that she wants to say goodbye because whatever she has is terminal?

As I wonder all of that, I hear Cynthia say, “Well, we might as well get started. As you wanted, we’re here to talk in person. Is there anything you’d like to say before we get into the meat of the situation?”

Jillian looks over at me for the first time since coming into the conference room and says flatly, “I want to speak to Matthias alone.”

I hope the surprise coursing through my brain isn’t written all over my face. I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping my expressions in check after years of running King Industries, but I didn’t see Jillian wanting to talk only to me right off the bat coming at all.

Looking over at Cynthia, I see she’s unhappy about this turn of events. I think she’s worried I might lose my temper since I’m truly desperate to have this situation done and over with, but she doesn’t have to be concerned. I’m not here to fight with Jillian.

“If my client is okay with that, then I guess I’m fine with it,” she says, looking back at me.

I nod, happy to do whatever’s necessary to get the ball rolling here. “I’m fine with Jillian and me talking alone.”

Packing up her briefcase, Cynthia says, “We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

I get the sense she wants to tell me to remember how things work, but I’m not worried about losing my shirt in this meeting. I’m happy to give Jillian whatever she wants to get her to divorce me. She can have my actual shirt right off my damn back if that’s the price I have to pay.