Walking over to her desk, I lean against the front of it, my manila folder still in hand. “Are you happy?” I ask.
She narrows her gaze, shrugging a shoulder. “Why?” she snaps.
“We don’t live together, we don’t sleep together, and I know you have men that you enjoy when I’m not around. Why are we married?”
She snorts. “This again? Landry, please. We’re too old to leave one another. There’s no reason. The children are grown, soon we’ll be grandparents. It’s ridiculous to think that we’ll somehow find love at our age. Have your fun, as I have mine, and when the fun is over, we’ll have companionship when we’re too feeble to do anything else.”
Her words, a year ago, even a few months ago would have been enough for me to blindly agree and drop the topic. But not anymore. I drew up this paperwork for a reason. I’m not going to back down from it either.
I want this.
Maybe it’s a mistake, maybe it’s too late for me to find a bit of happiness, but I know that I’m too old to live a life this miserable and lonely.
Pushing off of the desk, I take a couple steps toward her. “It’s over, Susan. I will always love you for being the mother to our children, but what we had, it died a long time ago.”
“No,” she snaps, turning her head to the side.
“No?”
She lifts her chin, refusing to look at me. Tossing the envelope next to her on the chaise, I take a step back. She suddenly turns to me, her eyes almost wild as she sneers. The doorbell sounds and I know that it is the constable to serve the initial paperwork.
Susan stands, her body swaying and swerving as she attempts to walk toward the door. I hear her open it, then a deep voice informs her that she’s been served. The heavy door doesn’t slam, but Susan’s heels stomp back toward me, clicking loudly with each step that she takes.
“Who is she?” she demands on a shrill shout.
“She?” I ask.
Susan’s body sways where she stands, the unopened papers in her hand, her cocktail in the other.
“Yes. Who is the whore you’re fucking? That’s what this is, right? We’ve been living a nice, separate life for years. Don’t deny that you haven’t had your fun, you’re a man, and if I remember correctly, you enjoyed sex more than most men.”
“There is nobody else. We don’t need to discuss this. We both have our transgressions. It will do nothing but hurt one another if we list our dalliances.”
She snorts, lifting her martini glass, waving it around. The vodka sloshes out of the glass and onto the leopard print carpeting. I know tomorrow the maid will no doubt have to shampoo the stain from the rug, more work for her, but Susan doesn’t care about that.
She takes a step forward. “You stopped sleeping with me. You stopped coming home. All your time at the office was no doubt with some secretary. You think that I don’t know,” she sneers.
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “There was nobody, not back then, not until after.”
“After?”
“After I saw the pictures of you fucking your tennis instructor. How cliché, Susan. How absolutely cliché.”
Without another word, I turn from her. Walking out of the study, I flinch when I hear the martini glass hit the closed door with a crash.
Continuing to walk away, I make my way upstairs and toward my bedroom. I gave up the master bedroom years ago, now I have one of the guest rooms and it suits me just fine, especially since it has a lock on the door.
TENNESSEE
“Cheers!” Bethie cries as our sweet teas arrive.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
She shakes her head. “Okay, spill, babe. I want to know all about your life.”
Deciding I can’t keep anything in, I tell her what I can. “I have a two-year-old son named Holden. It’s why I want to work at Astor Investments.”
“The childcare,” she whispers. “It’s the best around.”
Nodding, I look down at the table. Then, as if she can sense that I need something more, she reaches across the table, wrapping her hand around my wrist. Lifting my head, I look up into her eyes.
“No father?”
Shaking my head, I don’t tear up the way that I used to when people would ask me. Instead, I smile. It’s fake as hell, but I learned a long time ago that you have to fake it sometimes in life, and that’s okay.
“Nope. Which is great for me, because I was able to move from Oklahoma after I finished classes without any issues.”
“Bright side.” She grins.
“Bright side.”
Our food arrives, and Bethie tells me about being single in the city. How she thought it was going to be a lot more exciting than it actually is, but that she wouldn’t trade living here or her job for anything in the world.
“Oh, Laurent. Stay away,” she says in the midst of her talking.
“Yeah, I got the impression he was kind of into himself,” I murmur.
She laughs softly. “He is more than into himself, but I guess you’re allowed to be when your father is the Landry Astor.”
“I thought he might be related to him, but I didn’t think…”
She snorts. “Yeah, he’s his oldest son. He has another one and a daughter. They don’t work for him though, only Laurent does. Sometimes they come in, and let me tell you what, second son is just as fine as the first and Landry himself. The daughter, stunning. All spoiled rich kids, but nice, they aren’t snotty like you’d expect.”
I don’t tell her that my mother was friends with Susan. I don’t want her to think that I’m like any of the Astor kids. I’m not. I’m far from spoiled, far from having any money or anything. My mom pulled this whole thing out of her hat and I’m a bit surprised actually that it really happened.
“I know you have your son, but I would really like to take you out, show you the nightlife?”
Shaking my head, I flick my eyes down to my food before I lift them up to meet hers. “I can’t. I don’t know anyone here and I’ve never left him with anyone aside from my mom. Even leaving him at the childcare center on Monday is giving me anxiety.”
“Really? Nobody?”
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and wrap it around the front of my throat. I could tell her why I don’t ever want him out of my sight, but it would make me sound neurotic.
I’m scared to death that someone will hurt him, that on top of the reoccurring nightmares that I’ve had of his father finding him and kidnapping him.
It’s all stupid really, his biological father doesn’t even know he exists, hell, I don’t even know the man’s first name. In fact, it’s been so long, my memory is so hazy from the drugs, I probably wouldn’t even recognize him if I saw him walking down the street.
“I just don’t go out. I’ve been so busy with him and with school, I haven’t dated since before he was born.”
Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I watch as her lips curve up into a grin. “Well, we’ll fix that. Some of the people in the office have teenagers, and I know they babysit all the time. Hopefully, you’ll meet them, get to know them, and trust one of their teens to watch your Holden. Then we can go out, get you a little somethin’-somethin’ and have some fun.”
I let out a snort. Somethin’-somethin’ didn’t interest me all that much before Holden was conceived. Now it just sounds kind of unappealing.
Except Mr. Astor.
My thighs tremble just thinking about him. His intense gaze, his strong forearms, one of which was covered in colorful ink. That was something surprising and unexpected about him. I found it hard to stop staring. His longer beard and short hair. I don’t know how a man his age looks as good as he does, but boy does he ever.
I honestly don’t know how I’m going to work for him, seeing him day in and day out, being his assistant, being at his beck and call. I don’t know how I’m going to do it and not swoon over him all freaking day long. Maybe I’ll luck out and he’ll be a total asshole to me.
<
br /> Though a man that has the benefits for his employees that he does and the childcare in place for them too, he can’t be a dick like that, it’s impossible. Thank goodness he’s married, off-limits, and thank goodness I’m not looking for anything at all. I’ll swoon from afar and nothing more.
Chapter Five
LANDRY
I spend the majority of my weekend working, locked in my bedroom, alone. Sunday evening rolls around and I let out a groan as I look at the clock. Susan will no doubt tell our children about the divorce, and I’m sure this is going to be uncomfortable, but it’s long past due.
Decades long past due.
After showering and dressing, I open my bedroom door, locking it behind me. I don’t have very many personal things in there and I hope that Susan wouldn’t bother them, but she’s pretty angry with me. If something for work gets destroyed, like my laptop, I’ll be fucking pissed.
I make my way downstairs, hearing the voices of my children as I approach. “Mother is drunk, more than usual,” Lucinda murmurs.
Her voice carries through the formal living room and up to my ears. I curse to myself, knowing that this will be a nightmare of an evening, but I’ve spent far too long avoiding it, avoiding everything. They are all adults now, they should be able to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done.
“Dad,” Lawrence calls out.
Lifting my head, I turn the corner, plastering a fake smile on my lips. He catches it, immediately. Though Laurent and I are the ones who work together, Lawrence and I are the closest. Perhaps because he is more like I am in personality. He is even-tempered, calm, and easygoing, but has a passion for what he loves.
“I’ve upset your mother,” I admit.
Their heads all turn to face me, Lawrence shakes his head once, looking down at his shoes, as if he already knows what I’m about to say.
“Yes, yes he has,” Susan screeches from the study.
I watch as she sways toward us, stumbling on her too-high heels. My body automatically moves to stabilize her. Taking a few steps in her direction, I wrap my fingers around her elbow and guide her into the formal living room and toward the sofa.
Susan jerks her arm away from me with a snarl. “You,” she says, pointing her finger toward me. “You and your bullshit,” she retorts.
I’m not doing this, not now, not ever, and especially not in front of my children. There is no need for it. This cannot come as a surprise to her. This cannot be a shock at all. What this is, is her being petty because she did not deliver the paperwork to me first. She thinks that I have the upper hand, and that is never allowed when it comes to Susan Astor.
“Children,” I say, clearing my throat. They shift their eyes from their mother to me. “We’ve decided to divorce.”
“You’ve decided,” Susan snaps. “You,” she says, lifting her hand and pointing her finger in my face. “You.”
Ignoring her and her finger, I focus on my children. They haven’t said a word. They’re all watching, but wearing different expressions, each of them.
Laurent is the first to speak. He’s smirking and jerks his chin in my direction. “Was this even a marriage? You’ve lived here, what? During the weekends since we’ve moved out?”
“Yes,” I say with a nod.
Susan growls. “Oh, Mother,” Lucinda coos. But she surprises me when she crosses her arms over her chest instead of running toward Susan. “You have been with countless men at the club, why do you care if Dad finally files? It’s been years in the making.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way. Landry, did you hear what she just said to me?”
This is what I wanted to avoid, all of this. I did not want to get into an argument about who does what privately. However, Lucinda is not wrong. This has been years in the making and living a lie just isn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Susan gasps. All three of them let out a laugh as they watch her. She takes a step back, a wobbling step. “Fine. I’m the big bad bitch. Whatever.”
She turns and stomps away. Shifting my gaze to my children, I shake my head. “Don’t be too hard on your mother,” I mockingly scold.
Lucinda snorts, but I lift my hand to stop her before she can say anything else. “Marriage is about what happens between two people. No matter what, this doesn’t involve any of you. Don’t disrespect your mother. Just don’t.”
There is a moment of silence, and Lucinda sighs heavily. “Fine, but just know. You should have done this long ago. A long time ago,” she retorts.
I watch her leave, Laurent lifts his hand in a wave and follows her. “Drink out back?” Lawrence asks.
With a nod, I follow behind my middle son. Together we make our way out back, but not before he grabs a couple of beers for us. I usually don’t drink beer often, but since my preferred drink of choice is up in my room, I take the near-water without complaint.
“Why now?” he asks as soon as we sink down in the lounge chairs that face the yard and pool.
Tipping my bottle back, I take a long pull of the drink, then let out a sigh after I’ve swallowed. “I’ve been sitting on the documents for a while, months actually. I planned on shredding them, but I don’t know. This isn’t living.”
“It’s not. But it hasn’t been for at least a decade, so again, why now?”
“She thinks I’ve fallen in love,” I say with a snort.
“Have you?”
Shifting my gaze to him, I shake my head once. “I haven’t.”
“But?”
Lifting the bottle to my lips, I refuse to answer. Nothing will ever come from any of it, so it doesn’t need to ever be said aloud.
“But nothing. I am doing this because it is time. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Do you want to meet someone, get married again? What’s the end game?”
My practical son. The one who has a passion for psychology, for traveling, for life. He will understand my reasons, he will understand me. I may not need to explain it to him, but I want to.
“Happiness, Lawrence. I just want to find a little happiness. I’m not sure if that comes with another person, or just within myself. However, I do know that it is not in this life that I have right now. All of you have your own lives and I am glad that you do. It is time for me to decide how I would like to live out the second half of my life.”
“Half?” he asks, lifting a brow.
I snort. “Well, the next thirty years, maybe?”
“Hopefully,” he adds. “She will not take this lying down. She will try to take the company.”
“She is only entitled to half,” I remind him.
He chuckles. “People get ugly, Dad. They get really fucking ugly. I’ve seen a few friends go through divorces already. Are you sure you just don’t want to live completely separate lives? May cost you less money and less headache.”
“It isn’t right, what has been happening. I’ve never agreed and I’ve lived long enough this way.”
“This way?”
Shifting my gaze to the pool, I look out at the landscape in front of me. “I’ve taught you all the difference between right and wrong.”
Lawrence doesn’t add anything to my simple statement. He doesn’t need to. This is wrong. What I’ve done, what I’ve quietly accepted Susan doing. And how much of a pussy does this make me?
My wife has been fucking other men for years, I’ve allowed it, I’ve accepted it. Though much more sporadically than her, I have done the same. I did not teach my children that this was acceptable, and yet I’ve been showing them that it is.
TENNESSEE
“You are so freaking close to work. I’m totally jealous,” Bethanie announces as she drives up to the front of my building.
“My mom found it for me,” I say with a small smile.
She reaches across the car, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. “I am really happy that you’re going to be working at AI. I don’t have a lot of fr
iends here in Dallas and I’m hoping that we can be that.”
I learned a long, long time ago never trust a soul on earth. People will do anything and everything to get ahead in life, even throwing their friends under the bus, without hesitation. I’ve seen it happen a million times. I’ve watched my mom’s work friends do it to her for promotions.
I am under no illusion that Bethie won’t do it to me too. But, I have to admit that it feels nice to have at least one friendly face in a town full of strangers.
“Me too,” I say, giving her a small smile.
“See you Monday morning, and I’ll have a coffee for you when you get to work. What do you like?”
“That’s too much,” I say, shaking my head.
Bethie paid for lunch already and adding more to that, to someone that she hardly knows? I can’t accept it, I just can’t.
“Seriously, I get one every morning. It’s the little treat I give myself every day. Monday, you get one too.” She grins, giving me a wink.
“A blonde café latte?”
“You got it, sister.”
I exit the car, thanking her again then give her a wave as I make my way toward the front doors of my new apartment building. Digging my key card out of my bag, I swipe it quickly, then tug the door open and slip inside. I’m careful not to let anyone in behind me.
Call me paranoid, but this is the one thing that I am not excited about in my new life. A locked-up building, where anyone can slip inside, and I can’t just get out of. It reminds me of being paralyzed by that drug, of being locked inside of a bedroom upstairs, of not being able to leave.
Lifting my hand to the front of my throat, I remind myself to breathe as I climb the stairs toward my floor. I can’t let this fear, my past, dictate my future. I have had too much counseling, I have worked too hard for this to be my demise.
Hypocritically Yours: A Standalone Age-Gap Romance Page 4