But she also wouldn’t hesitate to come back when she needed another dose of his dick.

He’d thought, one day, she wouldn’t get up early and sneak out. One of those times, she wouldn’t dress while he watched then leave, but instead come back to him and say shit like, “Dinner tonight. It’s clear neither of us can let this go. Let’s work it out.”

He’d thought her coming at all said they weren’t done. The door was open. He just had to walk through.

When that didn’t happen, he felt like the asshole because he didn’t ask for it, didn’t push it, didn’t point out that the finality of signing divorce papers was bullshit for the both of them.

She hadn’t led him on. He’d fully participated and he was not a dumb fuck. He knew early what was going on.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel she was leaving that door open.

Friday night, he thought she’d gotten fed up and closed the door.

It pissed him off more than Cher’s rant that morning, not only that he’d been wrong but, with Mia’s most recent visit, how he had.

The past few days, he’d been recognizing Mia’s games for what they were, and it sat like a weight in his gut that information was confirmed.

He pushed her off, taking a step back and wrapping his fingers around the edge of the door. “Go home, Mia.”

She shook her head like she was clearing it and her brows drew together. “Are you serious?”

He stared down his nose at her. “You know, woman, I’m not a cheat, on either side of that deal. How the fuck you got it in your head you could come here tonight, I don’t know. But this is done. And just to make things clear to you, Mia, even if it doesn’t work out with that guy, when I say this is done, I mean that any way it can mean. This shit is done because we are done.”

She stared up at him, stunned.

“But…we’re never done,” she informed him.

“Never just became a fuckuva lot shorter,” he informed her, stepped back and shut the door in her face.

He locked it and turned away.

She didn’t knock again, and it was good she didn’t bother because he hadn’t lied.

They were done.

Christ, it sucked in ways she’d never understand that Cher didn’t recognize the fucked-up mess they already had was a fuckuva lot healthier than the fucked-up mess he and Mia had become.

All of a sudden this thought made him smile, because if Cher was right there and he could’ve shared that with her, she’d bust out laughing.

Garrett turned out the lights and headed to the bedroom thinking, yeah, his brown-eyed girl had a week. That was as long as he was prepared to sit on his ass and wait for her to come to him.

If she didn’t, she was ready or not, he was going to her.