SEVER

by Jane, Melissa

  “Why was Kane Alexander at your office today?”

  I want to ask how he knows I had a visitor but my husband is already too riled up.

  “Not that it’s any of your concern, but Kane visited today because he wants me to redesign one of his businesses.”

  His face pales. “Which one?”

  I turn, folding my arms in annoyance. “I don’t know, Shawn. He didn’t say. His assistant is sending through the specs.”

  He takes a moment, allowing my words to sink in.

  “Why do you even care?” I foolishly ask.

  He turns back into the bedroom. “I don’t. But I will respectfully ask you not to associate with him, Blythe. He isn’t who you think he is.”

  I scoff at his words. “Aren’t you two meant to be friends of some sort?”

  “I would use that term as loosely as possible.”

  “Well, he was nothing but sweet and pleasant to me, so keep your bullshit between yourselves. You and I no longer owe each other anything.”

  He faces me, eyes flashing a warning. “Says you, Blythe. But don’t for a second think this is over.”

  3

  “I ’m not coming in.”

  “You’ve got back-to-back meetings all day,” Amanda says, failing to hide the panic.

  “You’ll have to reschedule.”

  “But you have the Harper clients today. They’re a big deal.”

  “Amanda, I know my clients. But I’m unable to make it.”

  “Are you sniffling?” Her voice rises an octave. “You weren’t sick last night.”

  “I gotta go,” I say, completely unprepared for the conversation. “Hang on… has the Kane Alexander file come through, yet?”

  “Stop doubting my competence. I told you I’d send it through as soon as I get it.”

  “I know, I know… I’m just super curious to find out what it is I’m not allowed to see.”

  “Gotta love a man of mystery. Especially when he’s covered in tatts and has muscles bulging—”

  “Okay, okay… I’m well aware he’s got all that going for him. I just hope he isn’t giving me the run-around.”

  There’s a pause before the sneaky side of Amanda shines through. “Want me to look into it for you?”

  “Snoop into his life?”

  She scoffs, and I know this ‘looking into it’ is as much for her benefit as it is mine. “It’s not such a hard ask.”

  “Okay, but stay within boundaries. Don’t do anything which could jeopardize the company.”

  “How much do you know about him?”

  “Not much, other than that at some stage he’s been an acquaintance of Shawn’s.”

  “Speaking of which…” she says, failing to disguise her excitement. “did someone get lucky last night? Did you jump his bones for sending such an exquisite bouquet?”

  My heart skips a beat, and I refuse to give in to the pain when it feels like it’s having the life strangled out of it. “They weren’t from him,” I say slowly.

  “Huh? You mean to say you have two sexy men chasing your tail? This shit just isn’t—”

  “I’ve really gotta go this time,” I reply, knowing I’ve said too much already. My brain hurts just thinking about it. “Report back to me.”

  “On it.”

  Hanging up, I glance around at the piles of clothes and personal items I’ve already begun compiling. Only a few hours earlier, Shawn left for work, having spent the night on the couch, the television silently flickering, his bottle of scotch three quarters empty come sunrise. There was no discussion about the night before. No kiss on the cheek. He simply left without a word as if he didn’t have the same restless night I did.

  I spent the hours mapping out my next move.

  I can’t stay here.

  This house is more Shawn’s than it is mine, and it doesn’t feel right being a bitter wife who takes her man for everything, it’s not a hat I want to wear. While the house is in both our names, the money came mostly from his pocket while I studied. Now I’m fully operational and have a reputable name for myself, I can easily afford a nice place on my own without depending on Shawn or any divorce settlement.

  “How has it come to this?” I ask no one in particular as I throw a folded blouse on the already-tall pile.

  Everywhere I look, I see him. Both good and bad memories. From where he pushed me against the wall and had his wicked way with me the first time we christened this house, to when I first miscarried in the hall, clutching the bathroom door as blood streamed down my legs. The sorrow on Shawn’s face as he rocked me back and forth, waiting for the ambulance, completely ignorant to the mess he was sitting in.

  This house holds a lot of memories, but that’s all they are.

  Nothing good is being created here anymore. Only more bad to pile on top of the ever-growing list.

  My pity party is interrupted when a knock sounds at the door. I jump to my feet hoping it’s the removal company dropping off boxes. I need to be out before Shawn gets home. I can’t handle any more confrontation.

  Bounding down the stairs, I wipe my tear-stained face and hope for the best. When I open the door, my smile falls when I see it isn’t the mover.

  “I’m sorry, does my face offend you?” my sister asks, half joking. She squints, taking a closer a closer look at me. “Jesus. You look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” I say, slipping my hand off the door and turning back into the house. Samantha follows me inside, her high heels clipping along in time with the drag of my slippers. “Coffee?”

  “Please,” she replies, putting her Birkin on the counter.

  Birkin?

  “Um… which bank did you rob?” I tease, pointing to her very expensive, very out-of-character, handbag.

  Samantha scoffs, but I’m not mistaken when I see a glimmer of fear in her pretty eyes. “This old thing?” She grabs the handles and puts the bag at her feet and out of the firing line.

  A raise a curious brow. “Yeah, that old thing. I seem to recall you were handing out resumes only a few months ago and were three months behind on rent.”

  She shrugs. “I make good money.”

  “Exceptional money if you’re able to pay off debts, cover costs, and splurge on designer wear. I didn’t think sales paid that well.”

  This time she smiles cheekily. “Some people are good at what they do, others aren’t.”

  Hmmm. My sister’s behavior is off, and she definitely isn’t telling me the whole story.

  I start to load coffee pods in the machine when a thought strikes me. “Who’s the sugar daddy?”

  She chokes on her own saliva. “A sugar daddy? A girl can fend for herself, sis.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say lightly laughing while passing her a mug.

  She circles the counter to accept her coffee and spots the abandoned bouquet in the sink. “Um… do you not have a vase?”

  “I have plenty.”

  Samantha throws me a questioning side glance. “Dare I ask why you’ve trashed such a beautiful bunch of flowers? Does it have anything to do with why you’re not at work and looking like shit?”

  “Always subtle.” I roll my eyes and take a sip of coffee.

  “Well? Does it?”

  “Indirectly.”

  She shakes her head, not understanding. “Elaborate.”

  Sighing, I take a seat at the counter. “Shawn and I are over. I took the day off to pack some things and be gone by the time he gets home.”

  “What the fuck… why? Isn’t your anniversary this weekend?”

  “Yes. And the ‘why’ is a long story.”

  “But he bought you flowers.”

  I bite my lip before answering. I know these flowers are why Shawn slept on the couch. No matter how much we fought in the past, he always came to bed. Even if he did hover on the edge with his back to me.

  But how was I to know the flowers were from another man when I walked through the front door? And more importantly, why would he care? He hasn�
�t cared for over a year.

  “They weren’t from Shawn.”

  Samantha’s eyes widen. “Blythe… are you having an affair? Is that why you’re leaving?”

  “Of course I’m not having an affair,” I snap. “How could you think that?”

  “I’m just trying to piece A and B together.”

  “Well, you’re piecing wrong.”

  My sister folds her arms and waits for me to continue.

  “They’re from a new client. An acquaintance of Shawn’s. He came into my office yesterday wanting my design services for one of his businesses. I guess he’s trying to sweeten the deal.”

  “Or you.”

  A shake my head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Time will tell.”

  I push away from the counter, my chair scraping against the floor. “I have bigger issues to worry about, and that includes finding a new place.”

  “Can’t you two try and work it out? You have the perfect marriage.”

  “No, Samantha… we can’t just work it out. And our perfect marriage has been anything but for the last year.”

  I see a flicker of hurt in her hazel eyes. “A year? Why have you never said anything?”

  “Because I don’t like airing my dirty laundry, and because admitting it would’ve only made it true.” I swipe the stray tear, surprised I even have more tears to shed.

  “I’m sure this can all be worked out,” Samantha proclaims with misguided optimism.

  “Not going to happen. The guy hasn’t touched me in over a year. Our sex life went from throw against the wall to nothing overnight. He doesn’t talk to me, and when he does, he reprimands me as if I’m an insolent child, and he seems completely unfazed by the idea of me leaving. So, you tell me whether this can all be worked out.”

  “Well, he’s not cheating on you.”

  I scoff. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because it’s Shawn. He’s a good guy, and cheating just isn’t something he’d do.”

  “I didn’t think so either, but his behavior screams otherwise.”

  “Maybe you need to give him some time. Maybe you both have things you can work on to fix this. But, Blythe, they don’t come much better than Shawn.”

  I eye her a moment, my blood pressure rising. “Just whose side are you on? ‘Cause it certainly doesn’t sound like my sister has my back.”

  “I do have your back. I guess I’m upset that you two could be over. You have the ideal marriage. One I certainly hoped I’d have one day.”

  “Had. It certainly isn’t anyone’s ideal anymore.”

  4

  “W hat the hell is this?”

  Amanda shakes her head at the plans I’m holding. “I wish I knew, but I don’t.”

  I’m back at work the following day and I’m staring at Kane Alexander’s business proposal.

  “I mean… I’ve worked under strange conditions but this certainly takes the cake.”

  Amanda leans closer, squinting at the paperwork. “What do you think he’s hiding?”

  “I’m not sure, but whatever it is he seems to only be hiding it from me,” I say. “Clearly it’s open for business, so why the secrets?” I sit back in my chair, my mind wandering. “Did you find anything on him? Any dirt I should know about?”

  “Nothing. He’s a clean bill of health. No toxic relationships. No sour business deals. Only a whole lot of sexy-as-fuck images on Google. That man’s body is… lick-worthy.”

  “I’m willing to gamble he knows that already.” My mind wanders back to how the veins in his arms pulsed every time he tapped a finger on his knee. The salacious thoughts abruptly end when Shawn’s words of warning flash like a neon sign.

  He’s not the man you think he is. Stay away.

  “I’m declining,” I say, snapping closed his folder.

  Amanda looks like I’ve slapped her. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “It’s not that I’m not tempted.” A man like Kane Alexander will pay well. So much so, I can relax a little more knowing I’m about to become a single-income household. “If not for the secrecy, I’d jump right in.” Flicking a pen between my fingers, I weigh up the pros and cons. “What if he runs a criminal organization and suddenly my name is connected to it, all because I went in blind doing his interior decorating?”

  “He seems legit, Blythe. I found no dirt on the man. He deals with a whole lot of high-profile clients, so I doubt he’s got a seedy underbelly lurking which could jeopardize his whole career.”

  Amanda’s phone rings from her office. She rounds my desk and heads for the door before turning back. “Seriously, though, Blythe… this is a massive compliment to your work, and you’d be a fool to reject it.” I watch as she disappears into her office, and I’m left to contemplate her words. I still, however, am not entirely convinced it’s the right thing to do.

  Composing a new email, I enter Kane’s address and began my message. I know Amanda is probably right but I still can’t ignore my gut feeling. I’m a planner, not a risk taker.

  Dear Mr. Alexander,

  Thank you for your proposal and faith in my abilities to complete your project. Regretfully, I will have to decline your offer, as working blind is not something I’m comfortable doing at this stage.

  I wish you all the very best in finding a more suitable interior decorator.

  Regards,

  Blythe Cooper

  I review the message four times, and when I hit send, I once again lean back in my chair and heave a heavy sigh. Have I just blown an awesome opportunity? No doubt Kane Alexander has many connections—connections which could take me further than I’ve ever dreamed—but it simply isn’t worth the risk if he won’t meet me halfway. I go to stand and receive an immediate reply. My heart races when I click on the yellow envelope.

  You don’t strike me as the scared type, Blythe Cooper.

  Yours,

  Kane Alexander

  I re-read the ten words until the sentence becomes a blur. The cheek of the man. The absolute balls of him to assume I’m scared to take on his job—even though I am, he doesn’t know that, but he’s confident enough to assume. Then my eyes fall to one word. Yours.

  Does he say that to everyone? It would be unusually intimate if he did.

  That one word sends a shiver up my spine, and I’m yet to determine if it’s for good or bad reasons.

  ~

  The afternoon rolls in, and I haven’t heard a word from Shawn or replied to Kane.

  Would he be expecting a reply? To take the bait so I allow myself to be manipulated into saying yes?

  “Amanda, I’m heading off early,” I say, hooking my bag over my shoulder. I’m on my way to view rental properties, having placed an urgency on finding one. The quicker I free myself from Shawn, the better, no matter how much my heart hurts merely thinking about it.

  “Not so fast,” Amanda replies, interrupting my thoughts. “These just arrived. I was about to bring them in.” Using both hands, she lifts another exquisite bouquet onto the top counter.

  “What the hell!” With my mouth agape, I admire the mass of blooming pink tulips. “Who are these from?”

  With a cheeky smile, Amanda hands over a small card, and I eye her suspiciously before flipping it open.

  Blythe,

  The big bad wolf has enough faith in himself to remain disguised. Have some faith in yourself.

  Yours,

  Kane

  “What does it say?”

  I close the card and slide it in my handbag. “They’re from Mr. Alexander. I declined his invitation to work with him, and I’m guessing these are to sweeten me up.”

  Her eyes widen. “A man like that doesn’t give up easily.”

  I turn on my cell, go to email and compose a new message.

  Mr. Alexander,

  The wolf tricked Little Red and threatened to eat her.

  My decision still stands.

  Regards,

  Blythe Cooper

&n
bsp; P.S. The flowers are more than beautiful, thank you.

  I hit send and smooth my skirt.

  Why do I always feel ruffled when dealing with this man?

  Amanda laughs lightly, folding her arms while she takes me in. “Mmm… mmm… mmm,” she hums. “You’re in for a world of hurt, and I’m so unbelievably jealous.”

  ~

  I collapse on the sofa, careful not to spill a drop of wine. The house hunt was a complete letdown. The ones I checked were either too small, required too much maintenance, or wouldn’t be available for another few weeks. Knowing Shawn’s gone on his business trip, I take the chance to go through more drawers and cupboards. Boxes are now stacked high and ready for a removalist. I feel a deep-seated desperation to be out of this house and starting afresh.

  A knock sounds at the door, and I consider pretending no one’s home. I close my eyes, feeling the dreams I have for my night alone slipping through my fingertips. Another knock sounds, and I jump with fright seeing Samantha standing outside the living room window, her hands held out in annoyance.

  “Open up, you wench,” she yells, her features barely visible in the night light.

  Sliding off the sofa, I pad my way to the door and open it. My sister stands before me, her silky straight hair falling over her breasts, exposed by the lack of, albeit beautiful, fabric.

  “If you’re gonna pretend you’re not home, at least close the blinds.”

  “I wasn’t pretending… more like being ignorant.” I make a point of looking at her breasts. “I see the girls are out to play.”

  “More to the point, why aren’t yours?” Samantha’s gaze travels the length of my body, her brow creasing. “You can’t wear that!”

  I glance down at my Golden Girls baggy shirt and smile. “But it’s unbelievably comfy.”

  “Doesn’t make it right.” She huffs in frustration. “Why aren’t you ready?”

  I raise my own brows in question. “Ready for what?”

  “Our night out.”

  “What night out?”