Claimed by My Ex-Husband novel · Chapter 15 of 48

Chapter 15: Flour on His Suit

Noelle went quiet for sixteen days, and it frightened me more than the blog had.

Her office put out one line saying she was taking leave to protect the company.

The reporters thinned out.

The boot came off and a brace went on.

I walked to the corner and back on a cane, with Angelo three steps behind me.

He looked like a bodyguard who was trying not to be one.

On the sixteenth morning the owner of my bakery called.

"Your bench is still your bench," she said. "Come in and tell me what you want. Bring your husband. I want to look at him."

The bakery smelled the way it always had.

The owner stood behind the counter with flour to her elbows and a face like a closed door.

She looked Angelo up and down, slowly, from his shoes to his collar.

"So you're the one."

"Yes," said Angelo.

"I read the whole thing. Twice."

"I'm sorry for all of it."

"Good. Sit there and don't touch anything."

He sat on the stool she pointed to, in his charcoal suit, between a rack of cooling trays and a bag of rye.

I had never seen him sit so carefully.

Dessa had come straight from her night shift in her scrubs.

She took the stool next to him and stole a roll off the nearest tray.

"He looks like a lost lawyer," she said with her mouth full.

"I own hotels," Angelo said. "I'm not a lawyer."

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