Countdown to My Divorce

Rachel answered honestly, “It’s good. I’ve been here before”

“Oh, that’s great. Don’t say I’m taking advantage of you. I’m actually being pretty fair,” Tyler replied before he closed the car door and walked up beside Rachel. He yawned as he did so.

Rachel felt like every time she saw Tyler, he always looked half–asleep, like he’d just rolled out of bed. But at the office, he was cold and unapproachable like a completely different person.

They picked a window seat and sat down. Rachel glanced at Tyler in his tailored suit which was clearly high–end and probably custom–made. Sitting in a place like this, filled with the smells and grease of street food, he really looked out of place.

Tyler scanned the place, and Rachel could tell he was unimpressed. A place like this was always full of smoke and oil. The tables were sticky with grease, and business was so good the owners clearly didn’t have time to keep things spotless.

She hesitated for a moment and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere else? Somewhere you usually eat?”

“No gas left in the car. We can’t go far. Let’s just stay here,” Tyler said as he grabbed a stack of napkins and started wiping down the table.

He wiped it down thoroughly, using all the napkins, and tossed everything in the trash. Even though the table was practically shining at that point, it still didn’t feel clean enough for him.

Rachel couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Hunt, are you sure no one forced you to come here?”

Even the restaurant owner was eyeing him strangely. Finally, he

awkward smile. “Sorry, my friend here has a bit of a cleanliness

small

worry, we’ll pay for the

the owner drop the

“A stack of napkins? That guy needs

voice down,” Rachel whispered. “He’s just trying to get by. Not

raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Do I throw money

I need to spell it out? Those handmade leather shoes you’re wearing probably cost

restaurants,” Tyler

her water and ended up

reacted, grabbing a plate from the table

clutched her chest and coughed a few times.

person. Don’t start a rainstorm mid–meal,” Tyler said dryly as he set the plate down and dabbed at his clothes with a napkin. His movements were unhurried and refined. There