Chapter 5: Clues, Coffee, and Divorce Papers

A few days later, I realized some of my clothes were missing. At first, I didn’t think much of it—they weren’t expensive, and I didn’t care about losing a few pieces. But as time passed, even the lace lingerie Lauren bought me last week had vanished.

I couldn’t figure it out. There was no security camera at home—no way to find out who the creep was.

At breakfast, I decided to tell Jake. The scent of strong coffee and burnt toast hung in the air, Saturday sunlight pouring through the big window. The TV murmured in the background, some morning talk show I wasn’t really watching. Jake was at the table, buttering my toast with his usual calm.

“We had a thief at home,” I said, watching for his reaction.

He didn’t even look up, just kept spreading butter, his lips barely parting. “What’s missing?”

“Underwear.”

He paused, the knife pressing lightly on the small mole at the base of his thumb, smudging it. I squinted, catching the flicker of nerves in his face.

“What are you nervous about? Could it be you stole them?”

Jake was silent for a few seconds, then let out a low, breathy laugh, his eyes locking with mine. “What do you think?”

Before heading to the office, Jake always dressed to the nines. Even though his nearsightedness wasn’t bad, he wore gold-rimmed glasses that made his features even more striking. Right now, behind those thin lenses, his dark pupils looked colder than the light streaming in from outside.

I rolled my eyes. Think what? Jake was so stiff and proper. Besides, what would he want with my underwear?

I changed the subject. “What time will you be back tonight? I have something to give you.”

The divorce agreement was already drafted and ready.

Jake handed me the toast, his answer quick and clipped. “As long as you want, I’ll come back as soon as possible.”

His words ran together, so fast I couldn’t even tell where one sentence ended and the next began.

His phone rang. His assistant was waiting outside in the driveway, reminding him it was time to go.

Jake left. I touched my heart, which had skipped a beat, and then my inexplicably flushed earlobe. A bit embarrassed, a bit annoyed. Can’t he just talk like a normal person? Why does he have to flirt?