Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Stepping out of the lobby, Fitch lit another cigarette.

He didn't usually smoke this much, but tonight he felt restless, like there was a storm brewing in his chest.

Once in his car, he gripped the steering wheel, and the sight of his fingertips reminded him of the sensation of accidentally

brushing against Zoey's lips earlier. The memory of that warm, moist touch lingered.

He reached for a pack of wet wipes in the center console, considering wiping his fingers clean, but then he paused and dropped the

pack back down.

Right on cue, his phone buzzed with a call from Tyler.

"Scrap the plans, man. I'm not in the mood for drinks tonight. Heard lan's in sdeep trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"lI rang up Beck. lan’s vanished, and Maja—she’s pregnant, right? She's staying at the Sanders’ place and resting up. Can you

believe those two still haven't gotten their act together?"

Leaning back in the driver's seat, Fitch contemplated Tyler's words. Even if Tyler said no drinks, he wasn't keen on going back

inside.

"Tyler, how about we jet off to North America?"

Tyler squinted his eyes, skeptical. "You sure you can leave? Don't the bigwigs keep a tight leash on you?"

deeply entangled with the powers that be, making international travel a bureaucratic

status, Fitch had narrowly avoided

got a commendation from Uncle Bernard. The warrant's been lifted. I

Tyler was getting antsy, too.

out the flights for

Fitch, who are

Fitch felt a twinge of

to clear

was fiddling with his hair; the sash of his bathrobe cloose as a woman's soft hands climbed up his back, encircling

waist.

"Tyler, you're leaving?"

her, Tyler casually tossed a credit

expression soured. "Did your little girlfriend check up on you? I heard you've been seeing, what's her

Tyler liked her, she wouldn't still be

turned and gently tapped her cheek with

record, I've got plenty of girlfriends; I don't

get out."

face flushed with embarrassment but she didn’t dare retort, just

resumed his

overheard the exchange, Fitch couldn't

up dead in a woman's

laughed, strolling to the window and resting his elbow on the sill; the mole on

in a woman's bed than to play cat and mouse like lan—or

his cheek and shoulder,

a waste of time. Even the prettiest face

silent, focusing instead on