From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 179

When Max got the text, he found himself drifting to Eleanor’s front door without even thinking. Was ten o’clock too late to knock? He hovered there, hand raised, but he couldn’t bring himself to press the doorbell. With a sigh, he clutched his phone and paced back to his own apartment, nerves buzzing. He spent the whole night stewing, staring at her message, but never managed to reply.

Sleep was impossible. After tossing around for hours, Max finally gave in and called Linden.

Linden was already knocked out, needing to be up early for a big court case the next morning. The sudden ring jolted him awake. He didn’t even bother checking who it was before answering, his voice scratchy and annoyed. “Yeah, talk.”

“Were you asleep?” Max’s voice came through, sounding hesitant.

Linden was surprised. He had purposely kept quiet about the verdict that had come in today. Was Max just figuring it out now? He kept his tone cool. “I was.”

“No, you weren’t. The decree’s out, right?”

“…Yeah,” Linden admitted after a pause.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Max’s words came out sharp. If he’d had a heads up, maybe he wouldn’t be feeling so lost right now.

Linden let out a tired laugh, sitting up and leaning against his headboard. “Max, why would I spill my client’s verdict to you? And do you even know what time it is? It’s almost eleven. I need sleep.”

“I’ll pay you a million for fifteen minutes of your time. Deal?”

Linden snorted. Like he needed the money. He was a trust fund kid too. “What do you want?”

Max hesitated, then sighed. “She says she’s moving out. Why is the first thing she wants to do after getting the decree to leave me? Do you have any idea how I can get her to stay?”

Linden rolled his eyes. As always, it came down to a woman.

“Ms. Rolland is the type who follows the rules. She really hates owing people anything. Remember the lawsuit? I charged her a hefty fee, but she still bought me a shirt to say thank you. You probably helped her pick it out, didn’t you?”

…

The next morning, Eleanor saw a message from Max, sent at six on the dot.

If you’re free, come by for breakfast. We need to talk.

She just shot back a quick “Sure” and started getting ready.

By seven thirty, she was knocking on Max’s door. He answered in a loose bathrobe, the collar open just enough to flash a glimpse of his toned chest.

Eleanor swallowed, her cheeks warming. Mr. Clarkson was definitely in good shape…