Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 94

Chapter 87: We All See It:

Sedona’s POV

Molly chose this moment to make a significant pronouncement from Enzo’s lap, the kind of specific sound that came from someone who had been quiet for a long time and wanted her own opinions to be heard. Everyone looked at her. She looked back with complete satisfaction, seeing all eyes on her and basking in

“Even Molly agrees,” Rachel said, using Molly as an argument on why I was being delusion that Dante saw me as just a friend and nothing more.

“Molly is eleven months old.” I pointed out, my eyebrows raised in amusement and exasperation as Rachel shrugged her shoulders.

“She has good instincts.”

I looked at the ceiling. The familiar ceiling that I had become used to, as I had spent quite a considerable amount of time memorizing its familiar texture, the one I’d been looking at for weeks when I needed somewhere to put my eyes that wasn’t anyone’s face.

Dante Wells had asked about me for two years after I had left everyone and threw a life here in the search for something that ended up being an illusion. Had tracked a specific shot pattern that I had played for a long time across matches he hadn’t played in but had found it anyways by researching.

He had walked into a hospital, armed with nothing but anxiety and on the strength of secondhand information and waited in a lobby to find out if I’d agree to see him, and when I had, had come back the next day with soup to show that he cares about me and this was not a one time visit where he was just fulfilling an obligation.

thought about his face when Frank’s results had come up in conversation, the exhale that had held relief, genuine relief that showed that this was something that had troubled him for a long time but was holding on, pretending to be unaffected because he assumed that I needed someone to be strong while I broke down. I still thought about the way he’d asked *how do you feel about it* rather than celebrating at the surface of the thing.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, to the ceiling.

“Whatever was or wasn’t, fifteen years ago. I’m in the middle of cancer treatment that may or may not turn out for the worse. Not just that I have a son in Chicago who I think about every day and wonder if leaving him was the right thing to do, or if I am just trying to justify my actions so that the guilt will be a lot less easier to manage at night. I have a marriage that’s technically still being dissolved and I am a divorced, that is something that would turn most guys off, even Dante, the fact that I am used. I have-” I gestured at myself, at the hospital room, at the general situation. “I have enough.”

“Enough isn’t the same as all there is,” Rachel said.

“Rachel.”

“I’m just saying.” She held up her hands in the gesture of someone retreating from an argument while

13

<We All Seel

making absolutely clear they haven’t changed their position on their opinion and was willing to keep holding onto it, regardless of whatever reasons that I may bring up to counter it.

Clam

“I’m not suggesting you do anything. I’m not suggesting you think about it in any particular way right now, I know you have a lot in your plate and a romance or a supposed one is the least of your problems. I’m just -” She looked at me with the expression she’d had since we were eight years old, the one that meant she knew something and was waiting for me to know it too.

“I’m just saying that a man who has been paying attention to you for fifteen years and shows up with his grandmother’s sick-day recipe is not a man who is simply being a good friend and that he might see you as someone more to him. That’s all. I’ve said my piece.”

“You’ve said considerably more than a piece,” I said.

“I have more,” she confirmed. “I’m holding it in reserve because I am being considerate of your feelings and I do not want to start giving numbered reasons on why I am right and you are wrong.”

Enzo caught my eye from his corner and gave me the very slight nod of a man who had long ago learned that Rachel was usually right about these things and had made his peace with it. And it was best to let Rachel win this round or she would delve into a thorough explanation going as far to get a white board and a marker.

I looked at the empty container again.

“Nothing is happening,” I said. “I want to be clear. I am a woman in a hospital bed who has enough to manage without-nothing is happening.”

“Of course,” Rachel said agreeably.

“I mean it.”

“Absolutely.”

“Stop making that face.”

“I’m not making any face.” She was making a very specific face that was presented and she was not planning on changing it. “I’m just sitting here, supportively, in your hospital room, not making any face

whatsoever.”

Molly made another pronouncement from Enzo’s lap.

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