Page 31 of Perfect Satisfaction

Brendan takes a different tactic. “It’s okay if you can’t, Sula. This just became very personal—to all of us.”

My head drops. My shoulders shake with the force of my emotions. “How am I supposed to move on regardless of the outcome?”

Brendan pulls me into his arms. “You’ll have us.”

JB steps behind me and does the same. “You have both of us.”

I give myself a moment to grieve the past, the hope that the words I said as I left my husband would have penetrated—made him a better man. Instead, it appears it’s made him a more bitter one. Swiping my fingers beneath my eyes, I whisper, “Then, yes. I wish I could waive a wand for it all to go all away, but I gave up on fairy tales a long time ago.”Like birth.“He was involved in someone hurting Smith. That’s it. End of. I want my marriage—such as it is—to cease to exist.”

“Done,” they say in unison.

I reach up and remove the piercing I got through my nose the day of my wedding ceremony—to me a tiny symbol of being married that had an emotional connection to that moment when I found out I couldn’t get my mother’s ring reset. When I remembered long ago, women in my family would get their noses pierced to symbolize their married date. Holding the piece of jewelry in my hand, I feel the weight of its removal as much as the betrayal that’s divided me from my heart’s mate. “Mother never even had one done when she fell in love with our father.”

JB picks it up and lifts it to the light, inspecting the tiny diamond. I remark quietly, “It meant more to me than an actual ring.”

“It didn’t matter. You knew what it was meant to represent.”

“Yes, and I know what it became.” A shattered promise. “Now it’s nothing more than a small nod to a period of my life I need to move on from.”

Brendan holds out his hand. JB lays the tiny jewel on his finger. “It’s a part of you, Sula.”

“No, you two are a part of me. This—thing—needs to be gone. I’ll find something to replace it.”Somehow.I lift a face filled with tragedy to them. “Won’t I?”

JB rubs my back. “You will.”

Brendan snaps his fingers and when I next look at his hands, the tiny nose ring has disappeared—a trick he used to play when I was a little girl. “Poof. It’s gone.”

I stare at Brendan’s fingers wishing he could make the ache in my heart dissipate that fast.

“Next time, we’ll be with you every step of the way,” JB assures me.

I want to reassure him he doesn’t have anything to worry about. There won’t be a next time because I won’t accept a love that’s less than perfect.

And I know that doesn’t exist.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

“We wonder if supermodel Danielle Madison is aware her husband has a deep fascination with New York. It appears he wants something more—specifically Ursula Moore.

The international program manager apparently ended her relationship with CEO and billionaire, Joshua Basset of Moore Software Worldwide and has her sights set on the very married country star.

Tonight, the duo was spotted cozying up in Beckett Miller’s dressing room backstage atThe Golden Lady.

However it may appear, we’d like to personally wish Ursula Moore a very happy birthday.”

—StellaNova

“Well, Ursula. You thought I was a cold-hearted bastard before?I think I just hit a new low.” I mock my wife-in-name-only as I think about the article being readied for publication.

“I suppose I have you to thank for the way StellaNova’s grown, darling. If it wasn’t for you, maybe I’d have been content with the honorable. That’s what my grandfather wants, you know? He is fine with my being a reporter, but he keeps trying to teach me to be more honorable than he was.

“Then, there is dear ole Dad. Money-grubbing fuck that he is, Dad just wants cash and he doesn’t care how the fuck I get it. And he knew because of who Liza is to me.” I let out a rough laugh. “It’s almost ironic that neither of us got around to telling the other who we knew. No, what mattered to us was how fast we could fuck the other. Because it sure wasn’t love on your part, was it, Ursula?”

While I blow off steam bitching at my nebulous wife, I can’t help but be proud of the way I elevated StellaNova from the shitty piece of paparazzi trash being run into the ground by my father into a worldwide conglomerate where people vie for inches of display ads.

I catch sight of a star amid all the lights, and it reminds me of my grandfather teaching me lesson about life and love. I can still hear his voice rumbling in my head the night we found out my grandmother had terminal cancer. “There’s space in the bed for two of three—you, love, or pride. And sleeping with pride isn’t going to keep you warm.”

I used to believe in his words.