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THIRTY SEVEN

Author: Gentle Roses
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-10-22 23:01:47

Naomi's pov

The silence that followed her words was oddly comforting. She leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. I could tell she had sensed my spiraling anxiety and was already thinking of a distraction. Priscilla was a master of distraction.

She suddenly clapped her hands as a wide, mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Okay! Speaking of chaos,” she said, her voice instantly lighter, louder. She jumped off the bed and walked over to her oversized designer tote bag, rummaging inside. “I didn’t just come to ‘return a history binder’, you know. I came prepared.”

She pulled out a pile of random objects. A couple of nail polish bottles, a pack of sheet masks, and an aggressively pink hairband I’d never seen before.

I blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I figured,” she continued, holding them up like prizes, “if you are going to get busted by your dad, you might as well go down looking fabulous. Besides, we are overdue for a girls’ day, Naomi. Your cuticles are a tragedy, and I
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  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY NINE

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  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY EIGHT

    Naomi’s povJace muttered that he’d give us a minute and slipped out of the room quietly. The soft click of the door closing seemed to echo forever. For a long, suspended heartbeat, I just stood there staring at the space he’d left behind. My pulse hadn’t slowed, instead it thudded painfully against my ribs, every breath catching on the memory of his touch. Then I turned toward Priscilla.She was still by the doorway, frozen in place. Her face was pale, her mouth slightly open, eyes flicking between me and the half-closed door as if trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. The silence was suffocating.“Pris…” My voice broke halfway through her name. I didn’t even know what I meant to say after it.She blinked, finally moving her hand to the doorknob and letting out a shaky breath. “Naomi, what…” She stopped, pressing her lips together, clearly unsure which question to ask first. “What the hell was that?”I wanted to answer. I wanted to come up with something that would make sen

  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY SEVEN

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  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY SIX

    Naomi’s povWhen I woke up the next morning, the first thing I felt wasn't residual hangover from the party, but a cold, heavy chunk of dread. It was painfully awkward, sitting right in the pit of my stomach, a churning mixture of shock, exhilaration, and deep, profound guilt.I woke up earlier than usual, though it felt like I hadn’t really slept at all. The sheets were twisted around my legs, and the air still smelled faintly of him. For a few seconds, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to steady my breath, pretending that if I stayed still long enough, maybe everything that had happened last night would stop being real.Then I noticed he wasn’t beside me.Jace was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to me. The early sunlight cut through the curtains, tracing gold along his shoulders. When he turned, our eyes met. His expression was calm in that quiet way that made my pulse race faster. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, soft and

  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY FIVE

    Naomi’s POVMy heart hammered against my ribs, making the bone ache. Forget the shower. My body was screaming at me to run, but my feet were already moving, a strange, excited numbness overcoming my limbs. I grabbed a robe and crossed the room in three steps.I didn’t ask who it was. I just slid the bolt back, turned the handle, and pulled the door open.He was standing there, leaning against the frame like he’d been trying to decide whether to knock again or just leave.He hadn’t changed clothes, but he looked like he’d been fighting his way through a crowd—or perhaps, wrestling with himself. His usually laidback hair was slightly messy, falling forward across his forehead like he’d run a frustrated hand through it a hundred times. The top buttons of his shirt were undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veins running down his forearms. He looked rugged, agitated, and utterly exhausted.For a moment, neither of us said anything.“Hey,” I whispered, my voice catching halfway

  • Divorced My Husband And Found Love   FIFTY FOUR

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