by Flynn, Avery
“Yeah, well, I’m an attorney, too—and apparently, a much better one than you, because I can assure you that you’re wrong. And that you’re trespassing, which is very much against the law. So”—he waves his hand in a dismissive gesture—“you can scurry on back to whatever hole you crawled out of now.”
Karl’s face turns so red that, for a second, I actually think he’s going to have a stroke. Sasha must think so, too, because she comes awkwardly shuffling up the driveway toward him.
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Karl says, accusation thick in every syllable.
“And I didn’t know you were about to become a father.” The words come out of nowhere before I have any idea that I’m going to say them. “Looks like there’s a lot we don’t know about each other anymore. Then again—” I shoot a look at Sasha, who is staring at Nick with her mouth open and more than a little avarice in her eyes. “That’s always been the case. Hasn’t it, Karl?”
My ex looks like he is about to explode, which—not going to lie—I would totally be here for. He’d make a big mess, of course, but it’s a small price to pay for this whole nasty divorce business being over quickly. Plus, I’d get everything, and as I glance back over at Sasha’s burgeoning belly, that feels about right at the moment.
“You don’t actually expect me to believe you’re an attorney, do you?” Karl spits out.
Nick looks more amused than insulted at the obvious cut. “I don’t give a shit what you believe.” He squeezes me tighter, his hand stroking up and down my arm in an obvious display of affection meant to make Karl even angrier. “Facts are facts. I’d say that Mallory has a type, except…” He trails off on a derisive little laugh as he looks Karl up and down.
Karl’s hands fist at his sides, and alarm shoots through me. “You son of a bitch.”
Nick gives him a look that practically dares him to take a swing at him. Even though I’m horrified at the idea, there’s a small part of me that wouldn’t mind seeing my ex arrested for assault—not because I actually want him to go to prison but because I am apparently vengeful enough to relish the thought of him being disbarred and losing the practice he all but worships. The law practice I worked so many long hours to help him build.
“Karl, let’s go.” Sasha’s voice is high and grating, her eyes filled with fear as she looks between Nick and Karl.
Of course she’s afraid—if Karl gets disbarred, she and her baby would lose their meal ticket, not that it’s the baby’s fault.
It’s that thought that has me stepping forward, putting myself a little between Nick and Karl. Whatever else is going on here, the baby doesn’t deserve to suffer for choices their parents made.
Nick growls a little at my movement even as his hands come up to rest—warm and secure—on my shoulders. I know this is all fake, that it’s just a show for my ex, but I can’t help leaning back into the strength and heat of him, just for a little while. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to lean on.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Karl snaps at Sasha. “Not until Mallory signs the fucking divorce papers.”
“If that’s the case, then you leave me no choice but to call the police,” Nick says. “Because both Mallory and I have told you there’s not a chance in hell that she’s signing those papers without consulting her attorney. Not when New York and New Jersey are both no-fault divorce states that believe in a fair and equitable distribution of marital assets.”
He drops his hands from my shoulders, and I have to force myself not to whimper at the loss. But then I realize the only reason he pulled away is because he has to reach for his wallet. I step back again and watch as he takes a card out and offers it to Karl.
“I’m not Mallory’s lawyer,” he says. “But she is at my firm. I expect you to contact us by Wednesday with a full accounting of all marital assets—or I’m sure my partner will be more than happy to see you in court. And I think we both know that the judge won’t look kindly on an adulterous ex trying to cheat his former wife out of her fair settlement just so he can pay for his pregnant mistress—a mistress who, by the looks of it, got pregnant before the separation even took place.”
Nick puts his arm back around me—but this time, it’s around my waist—and smiles down at me with twinkling eyes. “I hope this hasn’t put you off dinner. I have plans for you later, and you’re going to need all the energy you can get.”
And I can’t help the cheesecake smile I lay on him. Full wattage, no holds barred. How did he know Karl showing up with his pregnant mistress would make me feel undesirable? Like I’m not woman enough to satisfy my man or some other archaic feeling that I really shouldn’t be having right now but am? The next words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I hope those plans include that wild thing you did with your tongue last time.”
Like a switch has been flipped, the teasing glint in his eyes turns to molten lava in point-two seconds flat. As though he completely forgot Karl was even standing there, he leans down and whispers against my cheek, “You can count on it.”
A shiver of anticipation skates along my skin as Nick pulls me tighter into his side and steers me back to the patio, Karl and Sasha dismissed.
“Looking forward to hearing from you,” Nick tosses over his shoulder right before he opens the back gate and ushers me through.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As the gate closes behind us and I settle back into the hard metal patio chair, the loss of Nick’s warmth and strength is immediate. The cold seeps into my bones so fast, I shiver.
There is a part of me that wants to ask Nick what the hell just happened. There is another, bigger part that knows I should thank him. But then there is the biggest part—the one that is still reeling from everything. Everything I just found out. And that part wins.
My shoulders sag in defeat. I wanted to be a mother my entire adult life. I mean, yes, for a long time, I also wanted to be an attorney, but even then I wanted to be a mom, too. A mom like my aunt Maggie would have been, not my own mom. Fun and loving and full of life.
All those years with Karl, I let that dream fall by the wayside because he seemed so sure he didn’t want to start a family yet.
Except that was obviously not true. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids; he just didn’t want them with me.
Could I possibly, possibly have been a bigger fool? I really don’t think so.
I am aware, in a very vague way, of something cold being pressed against my hand. I look down and am a little surprised to see my wineglass from earlier resting against my palm.
“Thank you.” I don’t know if I’m thanking him for standing up to Karl or for taking care of me or for handing me my wine. Maybe all three.
Either way, Nick doesn’t exactly seem inclined to ask me what I’m thanking him for. Instead, he just kind of nods before awkwardly sticking his hands in his suit pants pockets.
I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this.
I know I should be grateful that I don’t have a kid with Karl, that I don’t have to try to co-parent through what looks like it’s going to be an incredibly contentious divorce.
But I’ll be grateful tomorrow. Tonight…tonight, I just want to grieve.
For what was and for what could have been if I’d just been a little bit stronger. If I’d just walked away all those years ago.
I gave away my youth, my hopes, my dreams to a man who would never appreciate the… I start to think sacrifice, but that isn’t right. Because at the time, I didn’t view it as a sacrifice. I willingly gave him everything he wanted, and when he didn’t seem fulfilled, I gave him more. I convinced myself if I just kept giving, eventually he would be satisfied. Eventually, he would love me enough to fill the gaping hole in our marriage that I couldn’t fill by myself.
“Mallory,” Nick says, still standing beside the table and obviously unsure whether to sit or sprin
t home as fast as he can. “I don’t know what to say.”
I laugh, a strange, broken sound that makes my ears hurt. “Then we’re even, because I don’t know what to feel.”
His big hand comes down on my shoulder. “What can I do?”
“You’ve already done far more than anyone else in my life ever has. Thank you.” I let out a shaky breath that’s already thick with unshed tears. “But right now, I need to soak my ovaries in wine. Alone.”
Nick gives my shoulder a squeeze and nods. “Absolutely.” But instead of walking out the gate, he walks into the house.
I know I should follow him, but I don’t have the energy right now. I don’t have the energy to talk, to think. Hell, if I’m honest, I don’t even have the energy to be. Keeping my heart beating and my lungs filled with oxygen seems like too much effort.
Nick comes back a minute later with another bottle of wine. He opens it in silence, then leaves it on the table next to me.
“I’m across the street if you need me.”
I nod, even as I answer, “I won’t.”
“I know.”
I close my eyes and rest my head on the edge of the table as I breathe. I just breathe.
I don’t know how long I sit there like that, just trying to survive the pain and the regret ravaging my soul with razor-tipped claws.
Long enough for night to settle around me completely.
Long enough for the still-unfamiliar sounds of the neighborhood to quiet down.
More than long enough for the pain to change to ice-cold rage. Ice-cold resolve.
When I finally open my eyes and lift my head, Nick is long gone, just as I thought he would be. I reach for the glass of wine I poured a lifetime ago and drain it in one long gulp.
A lot of people might have condemned Nick for leaving me alone when I’m this messed up, but not me. It’s been a lot of years since someone listened to a decision I made without questioning it or ignoring it. Nick not only listened to what I wanted, but he respected me enough to give it to me without question.
Right now, I think it’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I should have just drunk the damn wine. It’s what a more rational person would have done, after all. They would have drunk themselves into bed and then fallen into a stupor. But oh no, not me. I sat in the backyard wallowing for a good half an hour. Then I just said fuck it. I wasted more than a decade of my life on that son of a bitch. I’m not wasting one second more.
And I’ve been cleaning ever since.
Because while I can choose not to waste my time getting drunk over him, I’m not quite evolved enough not to waste my time being pissed. And since I can’t sleep with all that angry energy, I use it to clean the entire laundry room, top to bottom.
My back may never forgive me, but on the plus side, I can now wash—and dry—my clothes, something that was impossible before because, it turns out, my aunt stored her rice and pasta in the dryer. Because that’s normal, right?
I finish hauling the last of the bags to the garage for the next monthly bulk pickup day—because my back totally needs the extra work—then promise myself the longest shower in existence after I fill out the HOA paperwork for the dumpster so I never have to do this again.
The paperwork isn’t hard, just time-consuming, because of course they have to know every little detail down to the kind of garbage that will end up in the dumpster. It takes two cups of coffee to finish it. All I need is a picture of the driveway, and then I can upload everything via digital documents and send it on its way.
Thank God.
I am so tired that it takes me a good minute to remember where my camera is on my phone, and I’m just snapping the first photo when a call comes in. My mom’s number pops up on the caller ID, and I let out a groan. No. Just no. After everything else I dealt with in the last twelve hours, there is no way I can deal with her, too.
I swipe Decline and head back inside, only to realize that my mom’s voice—her shouting “Mallory! Mallory!”—is coming from my phone.
Damn it! I must have swiped Accept instead. All the bleach fumes have clearly gotten to me.
I’m so tempted to hang up and pretend that I have no idea she called, but it’s too late. My mom has a special gift for torture, and if she thinks I am deliberately ignoring a phone call from her, she will absolutely find a way to make me suffer for a long time to come.
With that cheery little thought from hell in my head, I do the only thing I can do. I bring the phone to my ear and tell a fib. “Sorry, Mom. I dropped the phone. How are you?”
She sighs heavily. “You always were clumsy. It used to drive me to distraction when you were younger. I know it bothers Karl, too.”
Yeah, well, Karl can trip and fall over every one of the no more fucks I have to give about that.
“Look, today’s not really a great day to expect me to care what Karl thinks, Mom, so…”
“What happened?” she asks. “What did you do now?”
“What did I do?” I can’t believe what she just said. “Are you serious?”
“Karl is an eminently practical man. If he’s upset, it only stands to reason that you did something to upset him.”
At this point, I should be worried that my eyebrows are going to merge with my hairline.
“You can’t actually believe that, right?” I’m ready to hang up right now, but I just don’t have the spoons to deal with the shit she’ll heap on me if I do. “Don’t you want to know what he did to upset me?”
She sighs, the sound loud and long-suffering, and it gets my back up like nothing else can. “What did he do, Mallory?”
“You mean besides get his girlfriend pregnant?” I say, dropping the news like a live grenade. “And from the size of her, he didn’t even wait until I was out the door to do it.”
My mother doesn’t answer. In fact, she’s silent for so long that I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure we weren’t disconnected. She’s still there, according to the call timer that just keeps ticking away. Still, she doesn’t say anything. Finally, I break because I can’t deal with the silence—one of her favorite torture techniques—anymore. “Mom?”
“Maybe if you apologized, Mallory.”
“For what?” I nearly choke on the indignation that swells inside me. “He cheated on me, Mom. He got his girlfriend pregnant while we were still together. How is any of that my fault?”
She makes a tut-tut sound. “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m simply saying that maybe if you took better care of yourself, none of this would have happened.”
The fire of a thousand suns bursts out in my chest. What. The. Ever. Loving. Hell. “Maybe if I took better care—”
“I was always after you to let me take you to the spa with me,” she says, her tone so calm it borders on creepy. “A man has the right to expect his wife to be well-groomed.”
“I’m not a troll, Mother. I just didn’t add blond streaks to my hair or wear fake nails.”
“Or get facials to take care of your skin. And you almost never go to the gym—”
“Our building had a heated pool! I did laps three times a week.”
She scoffs. “It’s not the same as a good cardio workout.”
“Oh my God!” I have to clench my fists to keep from tearing my hair out or throwing my phone across the room when I can’t afford to replace it. “Swimming is literally one of the best cardio workouts there is. Plus, it uses every muscle in your body!”
“But it dries out your hair.” She lowers her voice as if sharing the deepest secret. “And you know how yours likes to frizz at the best of times.”
I am so tired that angry tears burn the backs of my eyes. I can’t deal with this right now. I just can’t. I’ve had to listen to these same I-just-want-to-help diatribes
of advice ever since Karl and I broke up. It’s almost like she considers my failure as a wife a personal slight against her parenting. And I just can’t go there right now. Not without sleep and not with everything that’s happened.
“I need to go, Mom. I’ve got—”
“Why do you keep insisting on running away from this conversation, Mallory?” She lets out a huff of disapproval and frustration—oh, I know that sound way too well. “I’ve been trying to talk to you ever since Karl left you, but you just won’t listen.”
“I left him! He didn’t leave me, Mom. I left him after finding out he was cheating on me.” I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream. “Doesn’t that matter to you at all? Doesn’t it matter more than whether I have frizzy hair or—”
“Of course it matters to me. He needs to apologize for what he did. But, Mallory, baby, marriage takes hard work. It requires sacrifice. Besides, you need him.”
Those three words—the same three words Karl has thrown at me from the very start of our relationship—zap the air from my lungs. I nearly give up, nearly just let my mother prattle on, but then force myself to take a deep breath instead. Force myself to take back the air, and everything else Karl has stolen from me as I respond, “Yeah, well, maybe if I hadn’t given him everything he’d ever wanted, he might not have taken me for granted. Ever think about that, Mom?”
She just continues. “Maybe if you wore more makeup or went to Victoria’s Secret every once in a while…”
And I am done. Her suggesting I wear sexy lingerie to keep my husband from cheating on me is the last freaking straw. “Karl cheated on me because he is an asshole, Mom. He is an entitled douchebag who thinks the entire world owes him everything and that he can have everything—including a wife and a girlfriend at the same time.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts!” I cut her off for maybe the first time in all of recorded history. “Karl is the asshole here, Mom. Not me. Him. And all the makeup and sexy lingerie in the world won’t change that fact. If you keep harping on me about it, I’m going to boycott makeup. And sexy lingerie—no, not just sexy lingerie but all lingerie. I will burn every freaking bra in my suitcase and throw away every lipstick I own. So for everyone’s sake, you should probably just stop.”