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“Thank you,” I say. “But I’m sure. I don’t care about getting more. I only care about getting what I need. And keeping Chase out of our mess. I would hate for him to be questioned or put in the middle.”

“That’s fair enough,” Stewart says. “I still tried to make the contract as much in your favor as possible. I just hate the thought of Ethan bullying you out of your house. I know you love the agency and it’s doing very well, but the house and all its furniture have a higher resell value. He’s getting the better deal.”

“I know. But he’s not going to sell it, so he’s stuck with a property that needs constant upkeep and fees, whereas I get a business that makes me money. Right now, that’s what I need. Besides, that house was Ethan’s dream. He loves that modern architecture, not me. He can have it.”

“Well, I’ve got to say, you’re dealing with this far better than I expected. Most people in your situation would be too focused on their pain and their desire to make the other person hurt to think reasonably.”

Oh, I’m hurting him in other ways.

But I don’t tell Stewart that the skin between my legs feels raw from Ethan’s best friend fingering me in the back of his truck this morning.

“I’m not going to pretend that everything is fine and I want the best for him. I don’t feel that way. But I am ready to move on. You know?”

“Yeah.” He picks up a pen in front of him and twirls it in his hands. “Listen. If you’re ready… if you want… if you ever want to talk, maybe over dinner, you have my number.”

My jaw drops. Stewart is asking me out?

My face warms as I try to get my thoughts together. Stewart is cute and kind but, as the discomfort between my legs reminds me, I have Blake right now. And that thought and the memory of lying with him send my belly into a fit of butterflies.

Except I don’t really have Blake. He’s never made his intentions clear. This all started as a way to make me feel better about Ethan, and I’m not sure if it’s moved beyond that.

I’m saved from answering when Ethan walks through the door. I didn’t think I could be so eager to see him. Thankfully, he’s alone.

I just hope my face is its normal color.

Stewart and Ethan shake hands, but I can tell from the set of Stewart’s chin that he’s not as pleased to see him as he’s trying to make it seem.

Ethan doesn’t try to shake my hand but just nods his head at me before sitting down on the chair next to mine.

“I have all the paperwork ready.” Stewart gets straight to business, handing each of us a stack of stapled papers. “Here is the contract for the exchange of property.”

I glance through the first few paragraphs, it’s all in dry legal jargon. Part of me wants to trust Stewart and just sign already, but Ethan is reading each line carefully, so I force myself to do the same.

“What’s this bit about the definition of furniture?” Ethan asks, pointing to a paragraph at the bottom of the page that I haven’t gotten to yet.

“It’s just the clarification I came up with for your specific needs. Furniture stays in the house, and that includes anything that would require two persons to carry. For example, couch, fridge, closets. Anything else is up to you two to divide amongst yourselves, that includes personal items such as clothes and books, but also things like electronics, televisions, computers.”

I’d completely forgotten about electronics. I give Stewart a grateful smile. He’s right, I should get my share of those, like the desktop I’ve been using in my study.

Ethan finishes his reading pass and confirms that everything is in order.

Stewart glances at me for confirmation and I nod in agreement.

He hands us two pens. “You both have to sign three copies.”

I grab the pen and turn to the last page.

“Remember, these are binding documents. Once you sign, it’s over.” Stewart points to the line on the paper where my signature goes.

“Good,” Ethan says, as if I’m a lecher he’s eager to get away from.

I move my weight from one hip to the other, enjoying the soreness as my core pushes against the chair. Blake is a genius. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, or crumbling from Ethan’s disapproval, I remember. I belong to me now. I can—and did—let whoever I want touch me. He doesn’t own my body, or any other part of me anymore.

I smile.

Ethan frowns at my smile like he’s not sure what to make of it, and it only makes me smile harder.

I sign on the line. “I agree. Let’s just get it over with.”