Men Like This by Roxanne Smith

teeth and dove in. “I’m leaving the country. London. I’m going to London.” Not the smooth announcement she’d practiced in her head, but she still managed to stun him into silence.
    She enjoyed the fascinating array of emotions passing over his handsome features. First came shock, evidenced by his slack jaw and deadpan eyes. Then his blond brow creased in confusion. She hoped it gave him wrinkles. Finally, his mouth snapped shut, and he zeroed in on her with narrowed eyes.
    Mint and honey? Maybe not. Right now they were more like molten amber. “I don’t think so.”
    Even coming from Blake it was an unexpected response. How much control did he presume to have over her?
    “ Excuse me? I’m not requesting permission. I’m going, and Seth isn’t. I’ve already given him the option, and he chose to stay. I can’t say I blame him. At his age, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend a year away from my friends, either, going to some strange school in a foreign country.”
    Blake’s expression of extreme ire might’ve been carved from granite. She pressed on. “It’s only for a year. He’ll be in school. He’ll have his friends and my family, plus vacations and the summer with me in London. It’ll be over before you realize it. Hell, he might even have a new baby brother to occupy him, huh? He’s a built-in babysitter.”
    Blake started to say something but stopped. His brow creased again. With his thumb and forefinger, he stroked his chin in a thinking man’s gesture. “A year, you said? That’s a pretty specific time frame, isn’t it, Q? It’s about the length of time needed to, oh, I don’t know . . . write a book?”
    He’d used his old nickname for her. She didn’t point it out—a strategic move on her part. “You were paying attention the last ten years. Yes, I’m going there to write.”
    Not a muscle twitched. “Are you being funny?”
    The tantrum she’d been expecting closed in. It would be one of the first she didn’t bow to. She rose from her seat and clasped her hands together. Hopefully standing made her appear more authoritative. “I’d never put so much effort into a joke.”
    Blake bowed his head and closed his eyes as if warding off a headache. He probably was. He joined her in standing and placed his hands on his hips. The toe of one exquisitely polished loafer tapped an angry staccato on the oak-paneled floor. “Explain to me why you’re going to London to do what you’ve always done right here in California.”
    Not a question. A demand for information.
    Quinn’s mouth tightened. She could tell him about the romance novel she wanted to write, or how this was all her dad’s big idea, but she wasn’t going to make excuses or offer explanations. He’d simply have to deal with her decision to go to London the same way she’d dealt with his decision to get a divorce.
    The mere memory brought a rush of flame to her face. After learning about Blake’s affair, she’d wrongly assumed the power lay in her hands. Didn’t cheating men generally beg their wives not to give them the boot? She’d confronted him and promised forgiveness if he’d stop seeing the other woman.
    He’d thrown the offer in her face. He didn’t want a second chance. They were done; he was leaving — rather, she was — and it was over. Thank God, he’d told her, because keeping his affair secret for five years had been exhausting.
    Quinn pinpointed it as the exact moment her heart shattered. “I’m going because I want to and I can. End of story.”
    He met her eyes. “So you don’t need to. You want to. We don’t always get what we want.”
    His hypocrisy stunned her. “Are you going to lecture me on the virtues of selflessness? I don’t believe you’re the man for the job, honey.” Anger had her slipping into old habits. It only peeved her off further. “You certainly don’t make it a habit to ignore your own wants. You corrupted our marriage and destroyed our life together to get what