The Divorce Club Read Online Free

you who have one, don't forget your individual appointments. If
anyone needs to cancel or rearrange, give me a call."
    My clients stand and start stacking away
their papers in oversized bags between makeup bottles, lipstick
holders and powder brushes and, in Lucy's case, hundreds of
chocolate wrappers. They air-kiss me, then flood out the door while
I wave goodbye. I've barely managed to pick up the dirty mugs and
carry them back to the kitchen when the bell rings.
    Assuming one of the ladies forgot something,
I shout, "Come in. It's open."
    Heavy footsteps thud through the tiny hall. I
wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and turn, almost bumping into a
tall guy dressed in a suit, at least six feet, with cropped brown
hair and piercing blue eyes. For a moment, I feel like I'm going to
faint as hundreds of thoughts race through my mind. What if he's
someone's husband and here to hurt me after finding out I'm helping
the missus divorce him? Of course, he could be some psycho who's
spied a lonely woman in a quiet residential area on a dark, cloudy
evening. Why didn't I think of security or at least of locking the
door?
    "Are you okay?" he asks, groomed brows
furrowed. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."
    I press my palm against my racing heart and
smile nervously. "Maybe a tiny one."
    "I don't bite—" he smiles "—unless it's full
moon."
    "What can I do for you?" Should I actually be
so forthcoming? I remember reading somewhere that rapists take
friendliness as some kind of sick invitation.
    The guy runs a hand through his hair as
though it was longer until recently and he's still not used to its
new length. His blue eyes scan the room, fixing on the floor. "I'm
here to sign up."
    "You're here to do what?" I ask, unsure
whether I've heard right.
    "Sign up," he repeats, this time a little
louder.
    Why would he want to join my club―unless he's
some sort of spy and only here to expose me? Then I remember, he can't expose me because I'm doing nothing illegal.
    "That's not possible." I walk past him to my
office slash meeting room and start looking through the papers on
my desk, hoping he'll get the hint and leave, but I can see I've no
such luck.
    "Why not?" He slumps in the chair opposite
from mine and puts his elbows on the scratched, wooden surface, his
gaze connecting with mine. My heart skips a beat and my palms start
to sweat as I search for excuses.
    "Because you're a man!"
    "What? You're kidding me."
    I shake my head. "No, you see, this club's
for women only. I don't think my members would feel comfortable
with you around." I'm actually talking about myself because he's
making my knees all jittery. I've never been the confident type
anyway―hence the need to transform myself into a social goddess
through this club―but this is beyond ridiculous. I feel as though
I'm fourteen again, waiting for the bus, and the school hottie's
talking to me for the first time.
    "That's a sexist thing to say." He laughs,
but the glint in his eyes conveys another message.
    "It's my club. I make the rules."
    "So you'd rather lose a potential customer
than discard your sexist ideas?" He snorts. "What a great way to
run a business. You'll go bankrupt in no time."
    I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm not a
sexist."
    He cocks an eyebrow. "Well, in that case,
you'll let me sign up because I've heard you're really good and the
only institution offering this kind of treatment in town."
    "No, sorry." I shake my head.
    "No?" he asks, incredulously.
    "No."
    Smirking, he stands and leans over the desk.
"Listen, I'm not usually such a jerk but you leave me no choice. I
need this, okay? My life depends on it. My―" he takes a deep breath
as he struggles for words "―my whole existence does because I can't
take it any more. I can't sleep or focus on work, meaning I could
lose my job soon."
    I stare at him, lost for words. Granted, I
anticipated my club would make someone feel like that one day, but
the guy isn't even a member yet.
    "I'm