Stay With Me

by Kristen Proby

  I didn’t know that could happen.

  I also didn’t know that my heart could hurt like this. Like someone has stabbed it a thousand times, and my chest is a bloody, gaping hole.

  I love him, and I know that if he’d just listen to me, we could work this out.

  But he won’t answer me. I’ve texted a dozen times, I’ve called.

  Shit, I even stood on his doorstep and knocked on the door for a good thirty minutes yesterday. His car was in the driveway. I sound like a crazy woman.

  Yeah, not my finest hour.

  He won’t talk to me.

  That might be what hurts most of all. He won’t let me explain.

  My doorbell rings, but there’s no need to have false hope that it could be Wyatt. It’s not.

  I open the door, and Jace is standing there, looking so much like his brother that I start to cry again.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he says as he steps inside and pulls me into a hug. “That’s not the kind of reception a guy wants when a beautiful woman sees him.”

  “I’m not beautiful,” I mumble into his chest. “I’m a fucking mess.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but yes. You’re a mess.” He grips my shoulders and pushes me back so he can look at me. His handsome face folds into a frown. “Seriously, Lia, you don’t look good.”

  “This is what agony looks like,” I inform him and walk away to sit on the couch. He follows and sits in a chair opposite me. “Have you talked to him?”

  “A little,” he confirms, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not willing to say more.

  “I know you’re loyal to him, Jace. And I don’t want to put you in the middle. I’m not asking you to deliver a message or anything like that.”

  “I am loyal to him,” he confirms and leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “But you look like you could use a friend.”

  I nod, unable to speak as tears clog my throat again. I reach for a tissue and rub my already raw eyes. “My heart hurts.” I cover my chest with my hand.

  “I can’t fix this,” he says softly. “But do you want to talk?”

  I nod again, but my throat is still closed. It seems all I can do is nod. “Give me a second.”

  “I’m not in a hurry.”

  I take a deep breath, blow my nose, and settle back on the couch, pulling my feet up under me. “I wasn’t looking for him. Or anyone, for that matter.”

  I purge it all out. My separation from Vinnie, the divorce, my job, meeting Wyatt, and even most of our relationship. It all comes rushing out in a word vomit that I can’t seem to control. But Jace just sits back and listens intently, his eyes narrowing now and then, but there’s no judgment on his face as I tell him about falling in love with his brother and then receiving the letter a few days ago.

  “We said horrible things,” I continue. “And I made him get out. But I honestly don’t think he would have listened to me in that moment anyway.”

  “I agree,” he says but doesn’t elaborate. “Wow, you fucked up, Amelia.”

  And queue the waterworks again. “I know it,” I say. “But I didn’t mean to. That’s the point of all of this. I don’t have a malicious bone in my damn body, and I certainly didn’t mean to mislead him. I was too busy falling in love with him, feeling good about myself when I was with him to worry about Vinnie and the divorce. It’s truly a technicality in my head. But Wyatt wouldn’t listen.”

  “You know his past.”

  I nod and wipe my nose. “I just thought we were past the baggage. But we’re not. And now he’s gone. He won’t talk to me, Jace. I’ve texted and called. I made a fool out of myself on his doorstep yesterday. And look at me.” I hold my arms out. “I’m a disaster.”

  “You’re still a beautiful disaster,” he says with a small smile.

  “You’re just being nice. Because you’re all so nice.” I crumple again. “Seriously, I have to pull it together. I leave for L.A. tomorrow. I still have to pack my shit and sit in mediation in a week. Do you have any advice? Without giving away any confidences?”

  He sighs, runs his hand through his hair the way Wyatt does, and then looks me in the eyes. “Get divorced, Lia. Finalize it, and give it time.”

  I shrug. “I’m not good at being patient.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to be this time.”

  “Do you think I have a chance with him?”

  “I think that you’re both hurting, and some space will be good. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and that’s the truth of it. Go to L.A. and get your affairs in order, then move on with your life.”

  “With or without him,” I whisper. My eyes close, and tears escape down my cheeks. “I hope it’s not without him.”

  “Either way, you’re going to be fine, Lia. I know that.”

  I nod. “Thanks for coming by. You really did help. Maybe I just needed to talk about it all.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stands, and I walk him to the door. As we walk to his car, Wyatt walks out of his house across the street. My heart soars for a moment. God, even from far away he looks fantastic.

  But when he sees us, he pauses and then laughs. There’s no humor in his face. He shakes his head and doesn’t say a word as he climbs into his car and drives away, not giving me another look.

  “Fuck.” My eyes well with tears again, and Jace wraps his arm around me in comfort.

  “Give him time,” he repeats and kisses the top of my head.

  “This sucks,” I mutter a week later as Pam and I wait for the mediator to come back into the room. Having separate conference rooms for this was absolutely the way to go. I don’t want to see Vinnie.

  I might deck him, and then he’d press charges, and I can’t live my life from jail.

  “It’s not as bad as going back to court,” she reminds me and makes notes in a folder that she’s working on as we wait. Finally, after about thirty minutes, the mediator returns.

  He’s a kind-looking, older man, who worked in family law for many years and does mediation now.

  I like him.

  “We have a counteroffer,” he says once he’s seated. “But first, I have to ask. Was he always so odd?”

  “Yeah.” I swallow and push my hair off of my cheek. “He’s not good at this stuff.”

  “No kidding. Okay, well, they’ve come back with this amount, paid in full.” He slides a piece of paper across the table, and I jerk my gaze back up to him in surprise.

  “Tell me this is a joke.”

  “No, it’s not. You don’t have to say yes. We can go back with another number.”

  I stare at Pam. “I already paid him a fair amount when we got divorced the first time. This is ridiculous.”

  “To be fair,” the mediator says, “in the state of California, he’s entitled to half of what you made when you were still together. The amount you paid him wasn’t half.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I agree. “Because he mocked me every day for my career. He hated it. He said my followers were stupid, and he didn’t even want to be on the bank account because he didn’t want to know anything about it.”

  “Yeah, he’s claiming now that you hid money from him.”

  “That cocksucker,” I mutter and stand to pace the room. “He was verbally abusive for years, told me to take my money and leave, and now he wants it. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.”

  “You need to take your emotions out of this,” Pam says sternly, her eyes shrewd. “I get that he’s fucked you. I’ve seen it, too. But this is now a business transaction, Lia.”

  I take a deep breath and sit at the table, listening.

  “You can decline everything today,” she continues. “And then we’ll go back to court. That can take months. Maybe even a year. A judge will most likely award him half anyway because that’s the law in California. So, you can continue to pay legal fees and delay this further, or you can think like the businesswoman you are. We can end this. Today.” She folds her h
ands on her folder. “And I’d like to remind you that you’re about to launch a makeup brand. The money you’re about to start bringing in is so much bigger than this. Don’t ruin that for yourself. And don’t give him an opportunity to get his hands on a piece of that, as well.”

  “I agree,” the mediator says. “And I’m Switzerland.”

  I nod and look at the figure again. “I won’t agree to his legal fees. He’s the one who decided to take it this far.”

  “Agreed,” Pam says and writes on the paper. “No legal fees. What about the money?”

  “Let’s go back with this.” I write a smaller figure down. “And tell him I’ll pay it in one lump sum rather than monthly payments. I want him gone. If he agrees, I’ll write a check today.”

  He nods, picks up the paper, and leaves. Pam and I stare at each other for a long moment.

  “How do you do this, day in and day out? Isn’t it sad?”

  “It can be,” she says with a nod. “It can also be satisfying. There are people that leave situations far worse than yours.”

  “I suppose so,” I reply. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  It’s not long before the mediator returns with a smile. “They agree. Pam, you can draw up the papers, and he’ll sign them.”

  “He also needs to sign something that says he can’t ever come back at me, wanting more money.”

  “Of course,” Pam says with a nod. “You write that check, and I’ll draw up the paperwork. We’ll file these with the court this afternoon, and you’ll officially be divorced in fourteen days.”

  I reach for my checkbook and feel physically ill as I write out the check, then slide it to the middle of the table. It’s an obscene amount of money, but if it’s the cost of getting Vinnie out of my life for good, it’s worth every penny.

  In less than an hour, the papers are all signed, Vinnie has my check, and we’re done.

  “Thank you,” I say to Pam and give her a hug. “Seriously, thank you for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” She pulls back. “Next time, get a prenup.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” I say with a laugh. “No way, no how.”

  “Never say never,” she says with a wink. I follow her out of the room and turn to leave her offices, and there he is ahead of me, facing me. Vinnie.

  His eyebrows climb, and then his face transforms into a smirk.

  And I feel nothing at all. I just turn and leave, without a word. It’s time to get on with my life.

  “When will you be home?” Archer asks a week later. I’m walking around my now-empty apartment, waiting for the landlord to show up for a walk-through so I can hand in my keys.

  “In a few days,” I reply. My voice echoes in the empty space. “The truck should be in Seattle tomorrow with my things.”

  “I’ve already talked to the truck driver, and I’ll meet him at the house. I have all of that covered. Are you okay to drive up by yourself?”

  “I’m not. Anastasia is flying down tomorrow morning. I have one last meeting in the afternoon, and then we’re hitting the road.”

  “She didn’t say anything,” he says. “How did everything go?”

  “Well, he got a lot of money, but not as much as he wanted, which I’m going to call a win. I didn’t pay his legal fees.”

  “Damn right, you didn’t. You should have let me beat him up when I wanted to.”

  I laugh. “Trust me, it’s not that I didn’t want to. But it’s over. The divorce will be final in a few days, I’ll be in Seattle, and I don’t ever have to deal with him again.”

  “How are things with Wyatt?”

  “Non-existent,” I reply softly and walk a circle in my old kitchen. “I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. And, frankly, I think I’m going to just move on, Archer. I tried, and he didn’t want to listen. I won’t beg.”

  “No. You’re not one who begs, Lia. No one is worth that.”

  “Nope.”

  “How did your meetings go? Are they okay with you commuting from Seattle?”

  “So far, it isn’t an issue. I had a photo shoot yesterday.” I stroll down the hallway to my bedroom and walk slowly to the window. I can see a lot of the city from here. “I liked this condo. I felt so proud and independent when I rented it after I left Vinnie.”

  “It was a great transition home,” he says, and it’s like a lightbulb turns on.

  “That’s a good way to describe it,” I reply. “You’re really smart sometimes. Is that why they let you own the company?”

  He chuckles. “You’re starting to get some of your sass back.”

  Sass.

  That’s what Wyatt says before . . . no. Turn it off.

  My doorbell rings.

  “The landlord is here. I’d better go. If there are any issues tomorrow, just let me know.”

  “There won’t be,” he says. “Keep me posted on your drive, and be safe. Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  I blink away tears as I hurry to the door and open it wide. Maria, the little landlord that I’ve worked with for more than two years, smiles at me. “Hello, Lia.”

  “Hello, Maria.” She walks in and glances about.

  “I’m so sad that you’re leaving,” she says. She has a clipboard tucked in her arm and smiles up at me. She’s a petite, kind woman. “We don’t always get tenants as good as you.”

  “Well, I loved living here,” I assure her. “Where would you like to start?”

  We spend the next thirty minutes walking through the unit. I get docked for three nail holes that I don’t have time to fill and paint, but otherwise, the condo is as I found it.

  I hand her the keys and walk out to my car, happy to finally have it back. Not that I wasn’t grateful for Jules’ car, but there’s something to be said for being surrounded by your own things.

  I drive to the hotel, give the car to the valet, and plan to soak in the bathtub for a while then order room service before crashing for the night.

  My room is a suite on one of the highest floors with an ocean view. I figured since I was wrapping up my divorce and I’d be here for a while getting my stuff packed and attending meetings, I’d splurge a little.

  Once I’m out of the bath, I pull on some black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that hangs over one shoulder. I’m just about to call room service when the room phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Montgomery, this is Ron at the front desk. We have a visitor for you.”

  Could it be?

  “Who is it, please?”

  “Anastasia Montgomery.”

  Silly.

  I grin, excited to see her. “Send her up.”

  Of course, it’s not Wyatt. He doesn’t want me. And the sooner I come to accept that, the better.

  Anastasia knocks on the door, and I rush to open it, then throw my arms around her and pull her into the room.

  “You’re here!”

  “Regretting it already,” she says, her voice strained. “Can’t breathe.”

  “I’m so happy to see you.” I kiss her cheek before she jerks out of my grasp.

  “Ugh.” She wipes my kiss off of her cheek but smiles at me. “Surprise.”

  “I thought you were coming tomorrow.” I clap my hands excitedly and dance a little jig.

  “And I thought you could probably use the company.” She pulls her handbag off her shoulder and wiggles out of her sweatshirt. “It’s hot in L.A.”

  “I’m so happy.”

  She immediately holds up her hands. “Do not death squeeze me again.”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  “No.”

  “Spoilsport.” I laugh and pull her bag inside, stowing it next to the closet. “I was just about to order room service. Are you hungry?”

  “Hungry and grimy from the flight. Is this the only bed?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Choose something to eat, and then you can shower while I order food.”

  “Does this mean we’re s
leeping together again?”

  “Of course. Seriously, though, look at the menu. I’m starving.”

  She narrows her eyes at me menacingly. “I’m not snuggling with you.”

  “Of course, you are. What do you want?”

  “I should have stayed home.”

  “You love me.”

  She laughs and takes a quick look at the menu. “I’ll have the five-hundred-dollar kid’s cheeseburger. Jesus, why is room service so expensive?”

  “That might be an exaggeration. I’ll get you the five-thousand-dollar big person’s cheeseburger.” I laugh and shoo her into the bathroom. “Enjoy your shower, and I’ll order. And, Stasia?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank you. I’m seriously happy that you’re here.”

  “You’re welcome. I want the two-thousand-dollar onion rings, too.”

  “Done.”

  ~Wyatt~

  There’s a moving truck parked in Amelia’s driveway. I don’t know if she’s over there. I haven’t seen her.

  Not that I’ve been looking for her. If anything, I’ve been avoiding any and all reminders of her. Not that it helps to dull the ache that’s set up permanent residence in my chest.

  Almost three weeks without her has been torture that I don’t wish on my worst enemy. But I have to learn to get over it because, otherwise, it’s going to be a very long, painful life.

  I grab my keys and walk out to my car. I’m meeting Jace and Levi for lunch. Before I can climb into the vehicle, I hear my name being called from across the street.

  “Wyatt!” It’s Archer, jogging toward me. He doesn’t look like he’s going to take a swing at me.

  Yet.

  I don’t say anything, I just wait for him to join me.

  “I’m going to cut to the chase,” he says. “You should cut her a break.”

  “She lied.”

  He rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out of his back pocket, scrolling. “Here. These are photos from her divorce party, months before she even met you.”

  I take the phone and scroll through photos of a smiling Amelia. She’s holding a cake that says HAPPY DIVORCE.

  “She was divorced, man. She even has signed papers from the court. Then the asshole contested it, and some jerk judge decided to entertain it. I’m not going to tell you everything because that’s her story to tell, but I have a feeling that she tried to explain, and you weren’t ready to hear it.”