“I know.” But I don’t know what I want.
Cherish sighed. “We saw this coming; I told you it would happen. He’s a divorce lawyer, for God’s sake. He handles conversations like this every day with his clients. He’s prepared for these situations; you’re not.”
“I know.” Valeria was starting to feel like a broken record.
“You can’t listen to him.”
“He’s my husband.”
“He’s a lawyer. Slime of the Earth.” Cherish huffed. “Don’t give him a chance to talk you out of what you want...what you need. Don’t face him alone, or you’ll find him buying you off with a diamond necklace or a sapphire tennis bracelet.”
Valeria frowned. Cherish was right. Gabriel had offered her more jewelry, even a car. “But what if he wants a reconciliation?”
“Hah! Talk is cheap. Even gifts, for him, are cheap. Remember, you’re the one who has sacrificed everything so that he could become a big-time lawyer. What do you want in return?”
“I don’t know.”
Cherish made a grunting sound. “What do you know?”
What did Valeria know?
She knew she didn’t want to be her mother.
She had watched her mother endure a loveless marriage for forty-nine years. Her father, a long-haul truck driver, had rarely been home, and when he was, he might as well have been a stranger passing through. The silence between her parents was broken only by perfunctory one-sided chatter from her mother and absentminded grunts from her father.
She knew her once-vivacious mother had wilted and eventually died from a marriage that did nothing to nourish her spirit.
What a far cry Valeria’s home had been from Gabriel’s childhood home. On those rare occasions, when she had visited him, Gabriel had quietly deflected her request to come in. His face an expressionless mask, Gabriel had shut the door on his home and on the two people screaming at each other from behind the closed door of the master bedroom. She sensed that he was ashamed of his parents, although she never understood why. At least his parents had cared enough about each other to argue. Hers hadn’t even cared enough to talk to each other.
Valeria’s shoulders sagged on a sigh. Was it ironic that her own marriage resembled that of her parents? Why couldn’t it have looked more like Gabriel’s parents’ marriage instead?
Cherish repeated her question. “What do you know?”
Valeria said nothing to Cherish, but she had an answer in her heart. I want to know if Gabriel loves me as much as I love him.
Failing that, I want out.
Chapter 2
The orange glow of dusk flooded through the glass windows of Gabriel’s office on the fortieth floor. His eyes burning from the strain of focusing on legal documents, Gabriel raised his head. His gaze swept, unseeing, over the unparalleled view of Central Park to focus on the clock on the far wall.
Seven thirty.
Where the hell had his day gone?
He returned his attention to the Campbell brief he had been preparing. The work should have been easy—it was just another normal day in the lucrative family law practice of Brickstein and Felder—but he could not focus. The words on the page grayed into an incomprehensible blur. Valeria’s face was the only thing he could see—her eyes shadowed with emotions more profound yet less defined than grief.
Happy anniversary. I want a divorce.
The words, written in her familiar flowing script, had punched the air out of his lungs when he had read it the prior night. His first instinct had been to charge into their bedroom and demand to know why, but he did not. He could not.
Memories he thought he had left behind rushed over him—memories of his father’s hands curling into fists, pounding, smashing; memories of his mother’s bruised and bleeding face as she cowed from his father’s anger. Most of the time, his father hadn’t even been drunk. He had just been angry, his temper fueled by low-paying temporary jobs on construction sites where bullying was not just rampant—it was the way life just was.
His father, driven by his violent emotions, had eventually killed his mother—not physically, not immediately—but he had killed her all the same. Over the years, Gabriel had seen his mother’s gentle spirit wither, her compassion and love crushed, until she could no longer extend affection to the children she had borne to the monster of her husband.
She had pushed Gabriel away, physically and emotionally. She had stared at him and seen a boy who could grow up to become like his father.
And that was why he couldn’t confront Valeria, not immediately upon reading her note. His emotions were too volatile, too shattered. He did not trust himself to be careful with his thoughts or his words. He did not trust himself to not be like his father. If he confronted her, he could have escalated the situation beyond salvage.
No, he had to be careful with Valeria. She was too precious, too priceless, to be handled with anything other than the utmost care. On the other hand, he could not give her what she wanted—a divorce. He could not let her go.
The only acceptable outcome was to fix the problem. He had spent the night pacing in his study, strategizing his approach in much the same way he developed his plan of attack in his client cases. In the end, however, there were still two things he could not fully account for or control—how she felt, and how he felt about how she felt.
She’s so unhappy.
He had mentally braced for it. Even so, he had not been ready for the full impact of her emotions. When he saw her, the unhappiness etched into the subtle slump of her shoulders and the listlessness of her eyes made his breath catch. He had to fight the compulsion to reach for her hand. Hell, he had to grip his chair to stop himself from rushing around to her side of the table to hold her. She was always so poised and self-controlled in public. He would have embarrassed her if he made a scene.
He had to focus on the solution, ask the right questions, and isolate the problem.
It’s hard to explain…
She could not articulate the issue.
All right. Plan B. He had to probe deeper and push the right buttons. Impatience was a trigger that had always worked on Valeria; it made her feel insecure and anxious. He had to evoke her emotional response.
I’m not a lawyer. I don’t have the fancy words.
When she snapped at him, only his professional training and his practiced façade allowed him to keep the pressure on her. Everything else in him wanted to back off—to stop hurting her. He could not endure her pain.
Why is it wrong to want more?
There it was. The answer.
The pressure against his chest eased.
She wanted more. He could do that. He could give her more; he would give her anything she wanted. But no… The expression on her face warned him that she was shutting down emotionally.
Not things. She wasn’t looking for more things. Something else. What could it be?
Think, you idiot. Think!
What about time together? A vacation.
At his words, relief flickered over her face. Yes, he was on the right track. The erratic pounding of Gabriel’s heart steadied. He had a solution. He could fix the problem now, couldn’t he?
He had never lacked self-confidence, not professionally, but with Valeria, he had always felt the need to prove something. He needed her to know that she had not thrown her life away by giving her trust and her love to a kid who had brashly promised to build their future together on the crapped out remains of his childhood.
A chill clawed at his chest. Does she still love—?
“Gabe?”
He jerked his head up.
Josie Davis, the firm’s summer intern, leaned against the doorframe. “I’m heading out for the day. Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Have a good evening.”
“You sure?” Her eyebrows arched. She crossed her feet at the ankles as she toyed with a long blond lock of hair. “You look pretty wired.”
So much for
keeping my personal stress out of my professional life. He reached back over a shoulder to massage the back of his neck and grimaced at the tight knot of tension locked in his muscles.
“A juice or snack?” Josie continued. “Or perhaps something more?”
Something in her tone pricked unease along his spine. “No, thank you.” He waved her away.
She pouted, her plump red lips pursing together, and then turned and sauntered away. He heard her call a greeting to someone else, giving him enough time to brace himself when Joe Felder, one of the two founding partners of Brickstein and Felder, looked in through the open door.
“Can I come in?” asked Felder, a balding man in his mid-fifties.
Gabriel rose and gestured to the seat across from him. “Yes, please.” He waited until Joe took his seat before he reclaimed his. “If you had called, I would have been happy to go to your office.”
Felder waved his hand in a dismissive action. “I like to walk around, catch a whiff of the action, although there aren’t too many people around at this time of the day.” He glanced at Gabriel’s desk. “Is that the Campbell file?”
Gabriel nodded.
Felder chuckled. “One of our best customers with his repeated pre-nups and divorces. The last pre-nup you crafted for him was airtight; this divorce shouldn’t be complicated, should it?”
“The purely financial parts aren’t. The three best-in-show German Shepherds and two racehorses that he bought for her are a little trickier. She says they were gifts. He claims they were investments.”
“It’s always more complicated when love is involved. What other cases are you working on?”
Gabriel smoothed the frown before it appeared on his face. Surely Felder knew what he was up to. Felder doled out the cases, after all, assigning them based on the available capacity of the attorneys while catering, naturally, to client preferences as much as possible. “I have the Matt Horton case, as well as Tom Seelye’s. Elizabeth Mack. Melissa Hirschorn.” He recited familiar names from memory. “I think three more new clients came in late last week. My paralegal’s doing some preliminary research, and I’m meeting with them later this week.”
“All our biggest accounts and clients. They all asked for you by name.” Felder smiled. “It’s about time, don’t you think, to revisit the question of your partnership in the firm?”
Gabriel stiffened. He stared at Felder’s face, searching for the joke.
Felder’s smile, however, was warm and sincere. “You know you deserve it more than anyone else in the firm. Brickstein and I are meeting next week to discuss your potential partnership, and if all goes well, you should expect an official invitation to join us at the partners’ retreat in Napa Valley next month.” He leaned forward and dropped his volume to a conspiratorial whisper. “Weekend of the 21st, if you’d like to block off your calendar. Bring your wife. I’m sure she’ll enjoy meeting the other ladies.”
Damn it. Gabriel kept his face impassive, but his heart sank. The 21st was the weekend of the school fair. What were his chances of convincing Valeria to accompany him to the partners’ retreat instead? Until yesterday, he would have rated it high; now, he wasn’t certain.
For several more minutes, he and Felder discussed Elizabeth Mack’s complicated custody case—she was suing for custody of her ex-stepchildren on the grounds that her now ex-husband and his first wife, the biological mother of the two boys, were unfit parents. Gabriel was inclined to agree with her. His job was to convince the judge to see the issue the same way, not an easy task considering the boys’ father had considerable resources of his own and had engaged a formidable team of lawyers to defend his parental rights.
Finally, Felder left, bidding Gabriel goodnight. Silence fell over the office. Outside, the sun had set. Gabriel reached for his smartphone but stopped himself before he sent a text message to Valeria. Surely news this big—and it was good news—should be shared in person.
He stared at the work piled high on his desk; he would have to take it home with him.
Moving slowly, he shoved a few files into his bag. The weight against his chest coalesced into an emotion he could only define as dread. He dreaded going home. Valeria’s demand for a divorce had ripped through the normality of the relationship. No conversation could ever be casual or simple ever again. His every word would be carefully selected, weighed for meaning. Her every word would be analyzed and evaluated for implications.
The tension between them would have him second-guessing everything he said and did to her and around her.
His heart heavy, the sick feeling lodged firmly in the pit of his stomach, he left the building and drove home. He did not curse Manhattan’s traffic gridlock or grumble at his nearly hour-long commute. Both gave him time to delay the meeting with Valeria. He had a problem to solve, a case to win—the marriage he saved would be his own—but somehow, he could not approach it with the same kind of confidence he approached his cases at work. His head told him he had to if he were to save his marriage. Logic, unfortunately, had little sway over his emotions. In his heart, his faith had been shaken by the depth of her unhappiness.
It was 9 p.m. by the time he arrived home. Most of the house was dark; the children were probably already in bed. He saw the dinner leftovers in the fridge, but instead of reaching for it, he poured himself a glass of wine instead. After a second thought, he poured another glass for Valeria, and carried both glasses to the bedroom.
She was still awake, reclined on the chaise lounge in the reading nook. A book lay open next to her, but it did not appear that she had been reading it. Her gaze snapped up to him, her eyes wide as if he had caught her off guard. “You’re home early,” she said after a moment of silence.
Did she mean it sincerely or sarcastically? Gabriel damned the fact that he could no longer tell the difference from her tone and body language. The Valeria he had fallen in love with had been a hot-tempered woman who had lived, laughed, and loved with fierce passion. Over the years, she had grown restrained and distant, but the love, his love, hadn't changed. Had it?
He did not know how to reach her anymore. He held out a glass. “Wine for you?”
“Sure.” She took the glass from him and sipped it. She did not scoot over to make room for him on the seat. Years ago, she might have.
He opened his mouth to tell her about the partnership, but at the last moment, he asked, “How was your day?”
Surprise flickered over her face. “It went well. I stopped by the Make A Wish Foundation after lunch to learn more about a new wish they’d assigned to me. I might need some help from you on it, but I’ll know better tomorrow after I talk to the child and his parents.”
“Okay. And the kids?”
“About the same as usual. Marlena came back swearing she will never talk to Jenny again, but I’m sure they’ll be best friends again tomorrow.”
“What happened?”
“They were trying to coordinate their outfits. Marlena insists she said pink. Jenny claims it was purple. So they ended up not looking like twins, which was what they wanted.”
“So it’s not a female social faux pas to wear the same thing as someone else?”
“It’s cool, up to first grade. Then, apparently, it’s a social taboo.” She tilted her head. “And you? How was your day?”
He inhaled deeply and tried to arrange the thoughts in his head. He took a few steps away from her to sit at the foot of the bed. “Joe Felder came by to see me today.”
“Oh?”
“He wanted to let me know that he’ll be talking to Brickstein about my potential partnership in the firm.”
Valeria’s breath caught. Something flickered in her eyes—too quick to identify—and she dropped her gaze to stare at her wine glass.
Gabriel checked his immediate dismay. He hadn’t expected confetti and fireworks from her, but he had hoped for a bit more enthusiasm and a hint of genuine delight. After all, the partnership in the legal firm was a key milestone in the plan they had esta
blished for their lives. It was supposed to mark the point at which they’d “arrived.”
What was no longer clear though was whether they’d arrived together.
“If the partnership goes through,” he continued, “they’d like us to attend the partners’ retreat. It’s out in Napa Valley. Weekend of the 21st.”
“The 21st?” She reached for her smartphone, no doubt checking her calendar. “It’s the school fair.”
“It’s Saturday, isn’t it? Maybe we could fly out together after the fair? It’ll be tiring, but we’d get to spend a day at the retreat too.”
“Who’s going to take care of the kids?”
“I thought—”
“They’re not old enough to leave behind. Diego’s probably okay, but not Marlena. Maybe if she were two or three years older—”
“It’s one night. Two, at most. This…Jenny. Do you think her mother—?”
“You don’t even know who Jenny’s parents are. You’ve never met them, and you’re insisting we leave our children with them for the weekend?” Valeria slammed her wine glass on the side table.
“I’m not insisting. I just—” Damn it, how had the conversation gone astray?
“You can go to the partners’ retreat.”
“I want to go with you.”
She shook her head. Her dark hair swayed. “I’m not going. Someone has to stay with the kids. You can go. It’s obviously more important to you.” The biting sarcasm in her voice scraped him.
You’re more important to me. Obviously, she did not feel the same way. He pushed to his feet and tried to moderate his voice. He had to defuse the situation. “We can make arrangements for the kids. Maybe bring them with us and find a sitter there—”
“Without interviewing her? Without references? God, you’re just so determined to be there, you’ll barrel right through every obvious and legitimate objection I raise.”
Desired: A Love Letters Novel Page 3