I assumed she would… no, that’s a lie. I didn’t think about her doing anything. She helped me, but ultimately, she was a stay-at-home mom. Only now both of our kids will be in school. “Working for yourself, huh?”
“The best kind of boss.”
She would be an amazing boss. There are still times I wish Helena or my personal assistant had Natalie’s way with some of our clients. Helena doesn’t take any special interest in their personal lives, but Natalie made sure to send baby gifts or condolence cards. And I don’t know what happened between Charlie and the dry cleaner, but we had to make a switch and write off an entire suit.
“If you need any help…”
“I need to do this by myself.” She inhales and squares her shoulders. “It’s good for the girls to see me work for myself.”
“Seeing you work for me wasn’t good?”
Her voice is rigid. “Seeing me do nothing but work for you wasn’t good.”
“You weren’t work—”
“Not that I made work for you, but that I was nothing more than a stapler or a folder or-or”—she flings a hand out—“a laptop.”
I stare at her. Her cheeks are tinged with pink and it’s nice and clear because the towel has her usually wild hair all wrapped up.
“I didn’t realize you felt that way,” I say stiffly.
She rubs her face with one hand, fatigue weighing her shoulders down. “All those times I asked you to take a break, to completely unplug so we could go on a real vacation, the hints about missing supper—again. But it was always about work until I didn’t think you knew there was a difference between a wife and an assistant.”
I jerk, her words hitting hard and unexpected. “How can you say that? I was—”
She cuts a hand through the air. “You know what? I’ve got a long day. We’re rehashing a marriage that’s ended and I need to do some work before I go to the hospital.”
“Fine.” I hope the girls are still asleep. My expression has to look thunderous. Natalie’s right about one thing—this isn’t the time. But I have one thought as I take the stairs up to the other bathroom. This isn’t the end.
* * *
Natalie
“Hi, Aleah. There’s been a family emergency and I won’t be able to meet you this week.” I wince at how guilty I sound. But missing my appointments with my trainer makes me less guilty than ditching Dad at the hospital for a few hours.
“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope everything’s okay.”
“I think it will be. My mom’s in the hospital with pneumonia so I’m taking turns with my dad staying with her.”
“How are the girls doing?”
“Weird thing. Their father’s actually jumping in to keep an eye on them.”
“Mr. North Dakota?”
I nod, knowing that she can’t see me. “In the flesh. Want an autograph?”
She laughs and I sink my head into my hands. Am I reading too much into the way his gaze devoured me when he caught me wearing nothing but a towel on my head? I know that look. If we were still married, I would’ve been flat on my back with my legs wrapped around him.
My body flushes hot, but it’s not welcome. I never thought I’d feel this way again. I thought I moved on from the way he made me feel, or assumed that he didn’t find me sexy anymore, that the divorce contract opened his eyes to the fact that he can get way more sophisticated and sexy women than me.
“No autograph necessary. Just your smiling face when you come back. I’ll adjust your half-marathon training to account for the time off.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” I haven’t thought of the race once since Simon stepped foot in the house. Between prepping for my online work and Mom, I can’t think about fitting in runs, and I’m in the early stages of training. If a mile or two four mornings a week seems onerous, what’s it going to be like when I’m up to six or seven?
As if she reads my mind, she says, “Don’t worry about it. The point of the half is to challenge you and show you that you can do it. Life isn’t going to stop because you want to train. We fit training around life. All I need you to do is drink water and get some rest.”
“Water and rest. I can do that.” I don’t know if I can do that. I’m going to lay in bed worrying about Mom, fretting about starting my own business, and if I manage to drift off after that, the image of Simon gawking at me will keep me awake.
The call ends. I drop my phone on the bedside table and stare at the closet. I need to finish getting dressed. After Simon stormed out, I rushed to get a bra and underwear on, but I’ve been slumped on my bed since. The wet towel from my hair is on the floor. I’d get after the girls for that, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up yet.
I didn’t realize you felt that way.
He also doesn’t realize that’s the crux of the problem. We were such good communicators and then he just… quit listening.
A knock at the door startles me. I jerk a sheet over myself. I didn’t lock the door, dammit.
“Mom,” Abby calls. “Can we watch TV?”
I nearly answer before I recall that Simon’s here to be with them. “Ask your dad.”
Footsteps scurry away and I hear Simon get bombarded with requests for TV and breakfast in front of the TV. A smile touches my lips. Abby’s quick to capitalize on her dad’s presence. There’s no food allowed on the carpets and she knows it.
His deep voice filters into the bedroom. I can’t make out the words, but the vibrations course through my body. He has a nice voice. Deep and resonant. I close my eyes and listen.
Shaking myself, I dart for the closet and dress in jean shorts and a T-shirt. I pack a tote with books and a tablet—both paper and electronic.
My hair is all over the place as usual. I tame it into a braid and my shoulders are aching by the time I’m done. I drop my arms and stare in the mirror. My traitorous mind superimposes the image of Simon behind me, his fingers working through my hair.
“Then I do what again?”
I giggle. “Grab another hunk and cross it over between the fingers of your left hand.” My scalp pinches as he tries to tug the curls free. “Ouch.”
“I’m so sorry, babe. I need to quit.”
“No. You can do it. You’re good with your hands.”
His heated stare meets mine in the mirror. “You know it.”
And he did. He braided my hair until after Maddy was born and life got too busy. I’d sit between his legs in bed and he’d comb and tame the locks into a thick braid.
God, I missed my husband.
I spin on my heel and walk out. “Girls, I’m taking off.”
“Mom.” Maddy skids around the corner in her pink and white nightgown. Her hair is bunched up behind her head and I feel sorry for the comb that has to deal with that. She doesn’t take getting her hair brushed, but she’s too young to do it well herself. “I have a picture for Nana.”
She hands over a sheet of paper with two stick figures on it. I can only assume they’re my parents. “She’ll love it. Thanks, honey.”
Abby comes over for a hug and I purposely keep my back toward the kitchen where Simon’s clunking bowls and spoons around.
“Tell Nana we wish her the best.” Simon ignores how I’m ignoring him. “And we’ll visit as soon as she’s ready.”
I look over my shoulder. He’s looming over the island with two bowls and two glasses. My heart tugs. He’s making breakfast for the girls. It’s only cereal but it’s enough to remind me of the husband I lost when his brother died three years ago.
I give the girls one last hug. “I’ll give her big kisses from you all.” Before I head toward the door, I hitch the tote over my shoulder and steel myself to look at Simon again. “Thank you.”
He comes around the island and holds out a ziplock bag with a wrap inside. “A Nutella and banana wrap. You didn’t eat breakfast, right?”
“Right.” I planned to grab a bite at the cafeteria on my way to Mom’s room. Or just go hungry until I trad
ed out with Dad, which was the more likely scenario. Once I got to the hospital, I’d be too antsy to swing through the cafeteria and wait in line.
He hands over a bottle that I didn’t notice before. “OJ.”
I nod numbly and stumble toward the door to the garage with my load in my arms. He made me breakfast. A wrap takes less than five minutes, but the thought behind it speaks volumes.
I spent months before our divorce missing my husband and he was under the same roof.
I have to keep reminding myself that this guy is only the aftereffects of Simon. Like the tremors after an earthquake. Our marriage is over, but my world still needs to settle. Simon’s here, but he’s not my husband. A fault line cracked open and we’re living on separate sides.
Chapter 4
Simon
“Dad, look at the picture I drew.”
I’m hunched over the desk in the office of my house—of Natalie’s house. My place is a condo. A two-bedroom on the edge of downtown Fargo. It’s the perfect pad for a corporate climber who prefers minimal maintenance and easy access to the trendiest after-hours spots in town.
I’m not that guy.
I’m a house guy. I like cutting the lawn and soaking up the smell of freshly cut grass. I like seeing my kids run and play with their shoes off and cartwheel over a carpet of grass. I like hearing rain on the roof and checking my basement for water after a heavy downpour.
I like talking to my neighbors when they walk by. Or stopping on my jog to catch up with Jake Miller and invite him and his wife and kids over. I like blowing out my driveway after a snowstorm and buzzing a path down the sidewalk to help dig the neighbor out.
I don’t get any of that in my downtown condo. But, hey, it’s close to my office.
I got a lot more work done there than I am in the home office. I’ve been interrupted to look at a stick figure holding flowers, begged to play a matching game, told to “come quick, Daddy” to see the garbage truck lift our canister to be dumped. Natalie’s the one who remembered to set it out.
I have a housekeeper that my personal assistant arranges. I don’t take my own garbage out anymore.
The picture I’m presented with this time is a portrait of me. Solid yellow for the hair and the face is square. “It’s nice, honey. Now go watch a show. I’ve got to get some work done.”
“I’m bored.” Maddy twirls around and knocks down the paper shredder.
I dive for it, sending my chair into the wall. That’ll leave a mark. I right the shredder and grimace at the pile of paper bits that poured out. How quickly I forgot the constant cleaning kids come with. I’m supposed to be easing Natalie’s burden so she can be there for her mother, not leaving more work for her to do when she gets home.
“Give me a few minutes to make a call and then we’ll go to a park.” Never mind there’s practically a full-service park in the back yard. A playset that includes a slide, monkey bars, and a covered sandbox. And if they played here, I wouldn’t have to worry about what kind of condition the public toilets are in since they can’t seem to go potty without touching the entire surface of the toilet.
My delay tactic works. She runs out and I call Helena. I haven’t spoken to her since we landed. She needs to know the change in my schedule and that I won’t get to everything on my calendar for the next day or two.
When she answers, I skip the usual chitchat I might’ve done with someone else, which Helena seems to have no interest in, and begin with my instructions. “Listen, Helena, I need a few days for a family emergency. Can you reschedule my meeting this afternoon and all of tomorrow?” Natalie’s words when she told me she wanted a divorce come back to me. You do nothing but work. You don’t allow yourself a break and our family is suffering because of it. “You know what—reschedule the whole week.”
I’ll show Natalie that I can take a fucking break.
“Mr. Gainesworth—”
“I know that’ll mean overtime for you, but Natalie’s mom is in ICU.”
There’s a short pause, but Helena replies with a clipped, “Yes. Sure.”
It’s enough of a change from her normal response to make me notice. “Is everything all right? Did Milton call, irate about the shares I sold again?”
“No, Mr. Gainesworth. Everything’s fine.” She sounds more formal than usual. Everything’s not fine, but I can’t force it out of her.
“Great. I’ll have my phone on me if there’s an emergency.” I hang up and look around the office that once used to be mine.
When we were just starting after college, newlyweds with a baby, Natalie used to bring Abby to the office. The same one I have now, much to my parents’ dismay. They think I should have an entire office building to myself with a giant placard blaring my name in eight-foot font. I’m getting there. It’s only been three years since Liam’s death. The money he left me allowed me to finally gain footing in the industry. Growing beyond that, and doing it the right way, takes time. Takes competent people and the most competent one walked out of my life.
I’ve been meaning to hire someone new. Helena’s been with me for over six months and could probably use an assistant of her own. Hell, Helena could probably become an advisor herself and we’d each need a new assistant. Then I would have to get someone who can do the office work and I’d be up to five employees, including me.
It just takes time. I’m already stretched as thin as I can go.
My gaze lands on an aloe plant in the corner, then skims over the walls decorated with pictures of our kids. This room had been pretty barren when I used it.
I stare out the window at the monstrous swing set. This house was the biggest purchase of my life, thanks to Liam. We didn’t grow up obnoxiously wealthy, but our parents insisted we put on a good show. That included a mortgage that stretched the budget until it screamed. Dad worked sixteen-hour days until he retired. Mom talked about her job like it was volunteer work, but it was a paid position, unlike the wives of the men in my father’s social circle who upheld a very old-school mindset, one I never agreed with.
Liam followed in Dad’s footsteps but seemed to balance family life better than either of our parents ever did. Just like I failed to reach the status my brother did by my age, I failed at achieving that balance. I’m divorced and not living in the house I was able to buy without loans.
Dad pointed out that I should’ve funneled the house money into my business. Maybe I’d be farther professionally and wouldn’t have signed over a million-dollar house to my ex.
This place was way more house than Natalie and I needed at the time, but we talked about having four kids and figured it’d be best to have space for when they were older since we were in the unique position to choose. We wanted it to be the house that drew our kids back together when they were older, and a place for the grandkids to congregate and get spoiled rotten.
Abby was starting preschool and Maddy was a baby when we’d bought this. Maddy’s five now. Our family didn’t grow to fill the house but I don’t regret the decision to move in. The girls have neighbor kids to play with and go to a nice school.
Did Natalie make an unconscious decision to stop having kids? Or had I missed those conversation subtleties too? We’d wanted to wait a couple years after Maddy was born before we tried again. Natalie had gotten pregnant on the pill before so she stayed on it and if it happened again, then we joked that it was fate.
Those couple of years were over a few years ago and we didn’t even talk about it. I didn’t think to bring it up. Did she?
I glower at the top of the desk while I ponder whether those questions are something I need answers to or if they’re on a boat that’s rowed out of my sight and none of my damn business anymore. I’m afraid of the answer.
She was an only child with few cousins to play with growing up. I had my brother and couldn’t imagine not having that sibling connection—at the time. I can imagine it all too well now. But growing up? We wrestled until we broke Mom’s favorite vase. Then we snuck out and co
vered for each other. Liam’s gone, but our dad doesn’t know that his pickup wasn’t totaled by a hit-and-run when we were in high school. It was Liam driving his friend’s car—before Liam had a license. The friend parked his vehicle in front of his house and let his own parents think it was a hit-and-run too. It’s something we could laugh about as adults, but he’s gone and I’ll take that secret to the grave, because he’s my brother.
I scrub my hand down my face. I have a week off. Not really, but I’m available to help Natalie and will be around for my girls. I can even make dinner. I can grill. Natalie loved grill season.
It might help distract her from realizing that I plan to stay here all week.
* * *
Natalie
I pull into the garage. Today was the longest day of my life. It doesn’t feel like yesterday that I ran with Aleah, it seems like last week.
I almost punch the button in the car to close the garage door, but stop. It’s garbage day. I need to bring the bin back.
I frown. I can’t recall seeing it when I drove in. But I took it to the curb this morning before I went to the hospital.
What I had passed driving into the garage was Simon’s Mercedes. His car was parked there all night. How many of the neighbors noticed?
Do I have to ask? All of them.
Did he bring the bin in?
I can count on one hand the number of times he’s done that. A small chore, but one he had to be home to do.
I even did the lawn care for the last couple of years until I had to throw in the towel and hire a service. Keeping the girls contained so I could ride around on the John Deere was too big of a challenge. And Simon was always working. Now they’re old enough to play while I mow, but I keep the lawn service because I can. The same goes for snow removal and I even hired a maid service for once a month. Because if I did all of that shit, I’d be reminded that the dream house Simon and I purchased is way too damn big for a single mom.
Eligible Ex-husband Page 3