“Wow,” she said, her voice filled with surprise. “Yes, you can. I didn’t expect you to admit to that.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “Denial is a pretty powerful thing.”
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about everything,” she said. “But are you still going back to San Francisco?”
“Just for a week,” I said. I had a flight out tomorrow. Again. Maybe I’d actually go this time. “I was supposed to go back before, but… well, you know. Dad. I can’t keep putting it off or I’m going to get fired.”
“And then what?” she asked.
“I’m going to propose to my boss that I split my time between here and San Francisco,” I said. “I’ve been working remotely this long, obviously I can make it work. I can’t take on everything Dad was doing. I won’t have time. But I was thinking, if we hired someone to do some of it, I could steer the ship. Make sure the big picture stuff is on track. That way you can keep doing what you love, but someone you trust is taking care of the business side of things.”
“It sounds like you’ve really thought this through,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s not perfect, but I think we can make it work.”
“I’m sure we can,” she said. “The question is, do you want to make it work?”
I watched the flames licking up the sides of the mattress. “I want to make it work with Zoe. And I know going back to San Francisco full-time isn’t an option. This is the best of both worlds. I’ll be gone sometimes, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Does this mean you’re asking me for a permanent job?”
“Yes, I guess that’s what I’m doing,” I said with a smile. “Mom, will you hire me?”
She reached over and squeezed my arm. “It’s about time.”
I laughed and took a sip of wine. Because what could I say? She was right.
Twenty-Six
Roland
It felt weird to pack my stuff, knowing tonight I’d be home in San Francisco. I wasn’t in a great mood about it. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too soon for me to be gone. I’d thought about asking Zoe to come with me, just for the week. But I knew she couldn’t up and leave work with no notice. And bringing her to San Francisco might not be a good idea, anyway. Too many bad memories.
Even aside from Zoe, I had a lot on my mind. How to convince my boss to let me split my time. The logistics of living in two cities. Whether to pull the trigger on bringing in an investor for Salishan.
There was a knock at the door, so I dropped the shirt I’d been folding to go answer it.
“Hey, you,” Zoe said when I opened the door. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“You’re up early.” I held the door open so she could come in, then shut it behind her.
“Yeah, I figured I’d swing by before you left,” she said. “Is that okay?”
“Of course.” I drew her close and kissed her. “I’m glad I get to see you.”
“Are you all packed?”
“Not really,” I said, nodding toward the pile of clothes on the bed.
She laughed. “You’re such a guy. I’ll help.”
We went into the bedroom and stood on opposite sides of the bed to fold clothes. She picked up a pair of slacks and smoothed them out while I went back to the shirt I’d dropped.
“So, you’ll be gone a week?” she asked.
“I might have to stay a little longer,” I said. “I’m going to try to be back in a week, though.”
“Okay.” She set the pants down and sat on the edge of the bed. “You know, we haven’t really talked about what’s going on with us. Not much, at least. Or how it’s going to work. Are we going to do that?”
“Of course we are,” I said. “I’m sorry, Zoe, I’m just trying to figure everything out.”
“Sure, I get that,” she said. “But there’s a lot we still haven’t said. And now here you are, packing for San Francisco. You think you’ll be gone a week. But what if that turns into two? And then a month from now, you’re still saying you’ll be back, but you can’t yet.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “A week. Ten days, tops.”
“And then what?”
“That’s part of what I have to deal with when I’m there,” I said. “But my plan is to split my time between here and San Francisco. I’m pretty sure my CEO will go for it. He works remotely about half the time, so there’s precedent for it.”
“What would that look like?” she asked. “You’re here for a week, and there for a week?”
“Something like that,” I said. “It might not be quite that regular. Maybe a week there. Two weeks here. A longer trip down there. Then a month here. That kind of thing.”
“And you’ll do both jobs?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She took a shirt off the pile. “That seems like a lot.”
“I’ve been doing it since I got here,” I said.
“Sure, but it was never meant to be permanent,” she said. “You didn’t come here planning to stay.”
“I think I have a handle on what’s involved with both jobs. And I’m talking to my mom about hiring someone here to take on some of the things my dad was handling. It’ll be fine.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“What are you worried about?” I asked.
“I’m worried that you’re going to trade one life that’s too busy for me for another life that’s just as bad.”
“I wasn’t too busy for you,” I said.
Her lips parted, and she stared at me for a few seconds. “Yes, you were. You were always too busy for me.”
A flare of anger scorched through me. This was an argument we’d had more times than I could count. I took a deep breath before answering. “I wasn’t too busy for you. Yes, I was busy. I worked long hours. I’ve always worked a lot. I did even when we were first married. It wasn’t until we moved to San Francisco that it started bothering you.”
“I’m sorry, are you talking about me, or the other Zoe you were married to?” she asked. “It bothered me way before we moved.”
“Sure, you complained about it when I was in grad school, too,” I said. “But I was working full time and getting my MBA. Of course I was fucking busy.”
“I didn’t complain,” she said. “God, you make it sound like I was a nagging shrew. It was hard, but when you were in grad school it wasn’t a big deal. I figured it was temporary. Once you finished your degree, things would settle down. But that’s the problem. They didn’t. You went from spending all your time and energy on work and school, to spending all your time and energy on just work. You never had anything left for me.”
“Who do you think I was doing it for?” I asked.
“Um, yourself,” she said. “It certainly wasn’t for me.”
“I was doing it for us,” I said. Holy shit, what the fuck was she talking about? “I was building a life for us.”
“You were building a bank account,” she said. “That’s not the same thing.”
I dropped the shirt that I still hadn’t managed to fold. “What the fuck are we doing? Why are we fighting about this?”
“We have to do it some time,” she said. “We can’t keep pretending the past didn’t happen. We’ve been avoiding it since the first time you fucked me in the tasting room. We need to do this at some point.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” I said. “I told you, I’m just trying to figure out how to make it all work.”
“So am I,” she said. “Look, it’s all well and good for us to get naked and go at each other like crazed rabbits, and then start spouting I love yous. Pretty easy to say in the aftermath of multiple orgasms. But we both know great sex isn’t enough. We were always good at that part. It was the rest of the whole marriage thing that got all fucked.”
“I’m well aware of our history,” I said. “But I don’t see how rehashing all that bullshit right before I have to leave to catch a flight is going to help.”
“I didn’t come over here to fight with you,” she said. “But it’s like there’s this huge thing we’re not acknowledging. That thing being the fact that we did this once, and it ended in a fucking divorce.”
“Who’s not acknowledging our divorce?” I asked. “Believe me, it’s not something I can forget.”
She stood, her face clouded with anger. “Really? Because if that’s true, you’ve had me fooled for the last four years.”
“Fooled about what?” I asked.
“That you gave a shit.”
I stared at her, my brow furrowed, the muscles in my back tightening with strain. “What?”
“You didn’t care,” she said. “Everything fell apart, and you just went to work.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” I asked. “Quit my job? Chase you back here? You know what, I wish I would have come after you. But I didn’t. There’s nothing I can do about that now.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you fucking gutted me,” I said. “My world collapsed, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Your world didn’t change,” she said. “You just kept doing what you’d been doing. The only difference was you had to sleep alone. It’s not like you noticed me otherwise.”
“Do you really think all the shit between us is my fault?” I asked. “Because last time I checked, I didn’t do the leaving, sweetheart. You left me. I came home from work and all your shit was gone. That was it. No discussion. Just an empty fucking apartment and your goddamn wedding ring sitting on the counter.”
“I didn’t leave you, Roland,” she said. “You left me well before that happened. I was just the one who moved out.”
She walked out, slamming the front door behind her.
“Fuck.” I grabbed a pair of socks and threw them at the wall. They hit with a soft—and enormously unsatisfying—thud. But I stopped myself before I threw something harder—and breakable.
Couldn’t she see how hard I was trying? I was upending my life for her. I hadn’t even suggested we try living in San Francisco together. I didn’t want to go back to a relationship that had been broken any more than she did. I wanted her, and I wanted us to be whole.
I didn’t know what else she wanted from me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, hoping it was her. But it was Leo.
Leo: Hey man. Have a second before you fly out?
Me: Gotta go in 10.
Leo: Swing by. Just need 2.
Me: Sure.
I tossed the rest of my shit into my bag, not bothering to fold it, and brought it outside to my car. My rental car, to be precise. That reminded me—a car. I’d need to buy a second one to keep here. I mentally added it to my list, wondering if it was even going to be necessary. Or if Zoe had just told me this wasn’t worth it to her.
I got in the car and sent her a text.
I have to go, but I’ll call you when I land.
She still hadn’t answered by the time I got over to Leo’s place. But I hadn’t really expected her to.
Leo answered his door, his hair looking more unkempt than usual.
“You look like you’ve been up all night,” I said.
He scowled and turned away. “I was.”
I noticed a collection of soda cans and wrappers strewn around his desk. He usually kept his place meticulously clean. Gigz jumped up on the desk and an empty can clattered to the floor.
“Damn it, Gigz,” he said.
“Why were you up all night?” I asked. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… a game thing,” he said. “Never mind.”
“All right, whatever,” I said. “Did you need something? I have a flight.”
“Yeah.” He went over to his desk and picked up a plain white envelope. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I slipped my finger beneath the flap and ripped open the seal. There was no paper or letter inside. I opened it wider and dumped the contents into my palm.
A gold wedding band.
“I found it a while ago,” he said. “It was out on the far side of the work houses.”
I stared at the ring. It couldn’t be.
“It’s yours, isn’t it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, although I knew full well that it was. “I didn’t think I’d lost it out there. I thought it fell off in front of Mom’s house.”
“I don’t think I was here when you lost it,” he said.
“No, you weren’t,” I said. “It was Christmas, and it snowed. We threw a few snowballs, but we weren’t dressed for the cold. I didn’t have gloves on. I noticed it was gone after we went inside. But I must have lost it earlier than I’d thought.”
“Like I said, I found it out there,” he said.
I looked over at him. “And you kept it?”
He shrugged. “I thought about giving it back to you before, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want it.”
“But why did you keep it?”
“I just… had a feeling you might need it back someday.”
The ring wasn’t large, or thick. Like Zoe’s, it had simply been what we could afford when we were twenty. It had seemed prophetic when I’d lost it. I’d been in grad school, working crazy hours at my job and going to classes at night for my MBA. It had certainly heralded the downturn in our marriage.
Leo finding it, and giving it back now, left me with that same sense—that it meant something.
“Thanks,” I said, curling my hand around the ring. I slipped it in my pocket.
“Sure,” he said. “Now get out of here or you’ll miss your flight. And I’m going to fucking bed.”
I laughed. “Sounds good, man. Get some rest.”
Back in the car, I pulled the ring out again. It was the craziest thing. I’d never in a million years thought I’d see it again. I put it in my wallet, where it wouldn’t slip out. It wasn’t like I could wear it. Last I checked, I was still very much divorced. And as much as I wanted to repair the damage between me and Zoe, I wasn’t sure if I knew how.
I checked my phone. Still no answer from Zoe. I’d have to call her from San Francisco, and hope she answered. In the meantime, I had a flight to catch.
Twenty-Seven
Zoe
I went on a date tonight. It was fucking weird. I know it’s over and I didn’t do anything wrong. But it still felt like it should have been you.
~Text from Zoe, unsent
It was not the first time I had a puking groom. But Victor Cockburn was going for a record.
I stood outside the bathroom while his best man slumped in a chair wearing a pair of sunglasses and rubbing his temples. At least I knew the reason for the groom’s tender stomach wasn’t viral. If I had to guess, I’d have said tequila. A good tequila was a beautiful thing, but I was pretty sure these guys had not been drinking good tequila last night. Probably cheap tequila, and a lot of it.
Kind of made me wonder if Cooper had been involved.
“You should have a cup of coffee,” I said to the best man, Dirk. Victor Cockburn’s best man was named Dirk. Despite the raging bridezilla that was Victoria, this wedding was turning out to be rather entertaining.
“I don’t drink coffee,” he said.
“You do now.” I poured him a cup and added two packets of sugar and extra cream. “Here.”
He took the cup and sipped.
I’d already given both Victor and Dirk a tall glass of water and a dose of ibuprofen. I pitied the tongue-lashing these guys were going to get when Victoria found out how hungover they were. Why guys didn’t do the partying a few nights before the wedding, I had no idea. But it was amazing how often I had sick bridal parties after a night of heavy drinking.
“How are you doing in there, big guy?” I asked through the bathroom door.
Victor answered with a groan.
I glanced at the time. We had just under an hour. It would be tight, but as long as Victor’s stomach decided to stop emptying for lo
ng enough to hold down some water, I’d be able to get him presentable by the time he had to stand up in front of his family and friends to get married.
Poor bastard.
My phone buzzed with a message from Jamie. She was working this wedding with me.
Jamie: Bride wants an update on the groom’s readiness
Me: Tell bride his tux looks great
Jamie: Puking?
Me: Yep. Bride status?
Jamie: Destroying Tokyo
I sighed. I wasn’t sure which of us had the harder job. Me, trying to get two overgrown frat boys ready in time for a very expensive wedding. Or Jamie, who had to field Cockring’s last-second demands.
Heh. Cockring.
But at least I was busy. After fighting with Roland before he’d left, I wanted to be busy.
I felt bad for walking away like I had, especially since he had to leave. Now he’d be gone for a week—or two, or three, or who knew how long—and the last thing we’d done is fight. That was not how I’d wanted to leave things. I’d just been so frustrated, and I’d let that get the better of me.
I’d replied to his text that he’d call—just said okay. I didn’t want to be an ass about it and not answer. But I didn’t want to text or talk to him on the phone. I was hurt, and angry, and I wanted to yell at him. Or maybe have a good angry-fuck and then yell at him.
Things were always easier when Roland and I were naked.
I blew out a breath and tapped on the door again. “Ready to come out yet?”
Victor opened the door and I kept my face still. But the dude looked like shit. I had my work cut out for me.
“Okay, Vic—can I call you Vic?—you did a number on yourself,” I said. “But I’ve had worse. I’m not going to lie, this is probably going to be both the best, and worst, day of your life. I’ll do what I can, but you’re going to have to pull yourself together.”
He nodded and ran his hands through his hair.
“All right, Dirk over there is sipping coffee, and I think that should perk him up well enough to get through the wedding. But I can see you’re going to make me work for it. Luckily, this isn’t my first rodeo.” I straightened his tie, then handed him a glass of fizzing Alka-Seltzer. “Drink this and let me know when you’re ready for step two.”
Broken Miles Page 19