Page 22 of Worth the Fall
She blew out an annoyed breath. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll come back,” Brooklyn said before she started leading me toward my own damn office. “But you have ten minutes, O’Grady. Clock starts now.”
I shook my head as I watched her walk away, tossing demands at me. I wanted to throw her over my desk, spank her ass for being so mouthy, and then fuck some sense into her. Who did she think she was, talking to me that way? And why the hell wasn’t I angry about it?
Because you like it, idiot.
When she got to my office door, she grabbed the edge and threw me a look. “Nine minutes.”
The things I want to do to that mouth.
I gave my assistant a cursory glance before shutting my door and making my way back over to my desk, gripping it with both hands. “So, tell me,” I said as I sat in my chair and leaned toward her as she sat down.
“Tell you what exactly?” She sounded annoyed with me.
“What it was that you were celebrating that day. You said you were celebrating.” This was not a question that would be asked in any typical interview, but I had this fierce desire to know what had caused her to get so inebriated.
She sucked in an audible breath, and I wondered for a split second if she might tell me a lie instead of the truth.
“My divorce. We signed the papers that morning.”
“And that made you...happy?” I emphasized the word because I wasn’t sure how most people felt when they ended their marriages, but the ones I’d been around were mostly bitter and angry. Happiness always seemed to come later.
“Yes. Because I’d beenunhappy for so long.”
Her tone was defensive, and I wondered how many people had made her feel bad for putting her feelings above her husband’s.
“I think a lot of people stay married for the wrong reasons,” I said like I was suddenly an expert on the subject.
“I agree.”
“So, it was your idea to end things then?”
It was an entirely inappropriate question, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from wanting to get inside this woman’s head and read every single thought in there.
She nodded. “It was.”
“Any regrets?”
What the hell was wrong with me? I half expected Brooklyn to stand up and call this whole thing off because of my line of questioning. She would have been well within her rights to tell me to shut up, so imagine my surprise when she didn’t.
“No. None.” Her voice was strong. Determined even. “If I were still married, I’d be miserable. I felt like I was dying inside. And I know it’s a horrible thing to say, but it’s the truth. Leaving was the right thing to do. Forme. And I know you probably think that sounds selfish, but I don’t care. Because I feel better today than I have in the last year and a half combined.”
I hadn’t expected her to confess all of that. And while I couldn’t necessarily relate to it on a personal level, I still felt like I understood what she was saying. “I don’t think it’s selfish at all.”
“You don’t?” Her tone finally softened as she focused those emotional green eyes on me.
“No. I think your husband”—I paused—“ex-husband sounds like the selfish one. Did he even notice you weren’t happy? Did he even care?”
Another. Inappropriate. Question.
“If he did, we wouldn’t be divorced.”
I couldn’t imagine Brooklyn being married to someone so blatantly unaware. It didn’t suit my impression of her at all. She came off as strong and independent. I imagined any man who won her over would hold those same qualities, if not more.
“It’s his loss,” I said, and I meant it. The guy sounded like a fucking idiot who hadn’t deserved her in the first place.
“I agree.” She smiled.
“So, you don’t have an issue with alcohol then?” I asked, changing the subject.