“You’ve never heard of me and we’re not objects of fascination because great-granddad Hathaway was into privacy,” I stated stupidly and Mickey looked down at me, expression still impassive. “He was a very smart man, so even back then he saw the way of things and decreed that any of his offspring would behave with decorum. Flash and attention and exploits were not tolerated, and he guaranteed this by putting a codicil on all Calway money that would guarantee if this ever happened, a trust fund wouldn’t be awarded, and if it happened after, it would be rescinded. We lived quiet, at his command, even if he’s long since dead. And Mom and Dad were perfect for each other since her family had much the same philosophy.” I looked to his throat and finished, “Though, Uncle Hugh is a bit of a wild one.”

“Amy,” Mickey called.

I looked to him.

“So you’re an oil and shipping heiress,” he noted.

I nodded.

“Raised by nannies,” he went on.

I nodded again.

“And you’re not tight with your parents,” he kept going.

I shook my head.

“Your brother?” he asked.

“Lawr barely speaks to them,” I whispered then added inanely, “At least he barely speaks to Dad.”

“Right,” he grunted, then he said, “So you’re an oil and shipping heiress with a shit ton of money who got married, had kids, then your husband fucked you over. Until then, your life had been golden and you probably had everything you ever wanted, except what was important. So when something you wanted was taken away from you, you had no clue how to deal and no foundation to keep you solid. What you did have was parents who felt you should stick it to your ex because he had the audacity to fuck over a Bourne-Hathaway.”

My life hadn’t been golden.

But I knew what he was saying.

“That’s pretty much it,” I kept whispering.

Mickey nodded once. “How long were you with him?”

“Married sixteen years. But we were together for three before we were married.”

Something moved through his eyes at my answer but he didn’t address that.

He stated, “So he fucked you over, you lost it, and went psycho on his ass.”

Yes, there it was, he thought I was psycho.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“And your parents didn’t advise you to go psycho by hiring a really fuckin’ good attorney?” he asked.

“I had that too,” I shared. “I just lost sight of priorities and didn’t let him fight like he wanted to because I didn’t want it to get ugly for the kids.”

“But they saw a different kind of ugly.”

I couldn’t say it aloud again so I just nodded.

“Shit happens, Amy.”

I felt my lips part.

It took a while but I finally asked, “I’m sorry?”