“This sounds rather dire.” I sensed the uncertainty in his pause. “All right. It’ll give me an excuse to drive the McLaren with the new tires on.”
“And it’ll give you an excuse to spend the night with your super busy girlfriend,” I reminded him to straighten his priorities out. “I’ll get to the apartment at around eight. Keep dinner warm for me.”
“Yes, darling.” His sarcasm was noted.
I had to return fire. “I’ll expect my slippers and martini at eight fifteen on the dot.”
“Shall I wear pearls and heels to vacuum, as well?”
“Hmm…” I pretended to consider. “Nah, I don’t think you can pull off pearls. Wouldn’t mind seeing you in heels, though, so long as you’re not ruining mine.”
He chuckled and said, “All right. I’ll see you at eight. Or, if we’re going on Sophie time, I’ll see you at eight-thirty.”
“You know, this ‘Sophie is late all the time’ schtick is getting old,” I warned him.
“Five thousand dollars says you’re not home before nine.” He laughed.
“You’re on.” I hung up on our immature bet—our money was all lumped together, anyway—and resolved that I would get home at seven-thirty.
* * * *
I got to the apartment at nine-thirteen.
Neil was in the living room, reading in front of a deliciously warm fire. He didn’t bother to look up. “Right on time.”
I dropped my purse and laptop bag by the living room door and threw my coat over them. I went to Neil’s side and dropped a check, written for five-thousand dollars, into his lap. “I wrote it in the car.”
“You should have written it while we were on the phone.” He looked up and gave me a wink as he tore the slip of paper in half. “I didn’t wait for dinner. I thought I might starve to death before you arrived.”
“Ha ha.” I collapsed beside him on the couch, and he put an arm around me so I could lean against his chest. “I have to break some bad news to you.”
“Well, it’s probably going to be better if you say it all at once,” he advised, working his fingertips into my hair to massage my scalp.
I was loath to stop the petting. “There’s an advanced copy of Steven’s book. Valerie gave it to me last night. I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”
His hand went very still, his body slightly rigid. “You…you didn’t read it, did you?”
I sat up, so I could look him in the eye and promise, “No. I will never read that book without your permission to do so.”
He seemed to ease up a bit. “Thank you for telling me about this now, rather than weeks from now.”
“I’m showing progress.” I paused. “There’s more. The book is going to come out in June. As in, the June when we’re getting married and Emma is having the baby.”
“He never was good with timing.” Neil was going for grim humor, but he didn’t quite make the humor half. “I suppose I’ll have to read it.”
“I don’t think anyone would expect you to.”
“No, I have to read it,” he insisted. “I need to know what he’s going to say about me, and our relationship. I don’t want it to come as a shock if I’m asked about it. Our wedding is going to bring us a bit of attention, and I’d like to prepare my response should this come up.”
“Probably smart.” I quirked my lips sympathetically and put a hand on his knee. “I’m going to get my food. Do you wanna come with?”
He set his iPad aside and we went to the kitchen, where I found a container of fennel and beans waiting for me. My stomach was eating itself. I put the food in the microwave and hit the button.
“So. Are you okay?” I asked, reaching into the beverage cooler for a bottled water. I leaned against the fridge to drink.
“I think so?” Neil hopped up to sit on the island countertop.
“Oh my god, get down! What are you, nine?” I spluttered, mid-swallow.
“Yes, mother.” He rolled his eyes playfully, but obeyed. “I’m strangely energized by this. Maybe, because I’ve been dreading it so much, it’s almost a relief being closer to getting it all over with.”
“You’re actually fine with this?” Whether I believed him or not, I would still be running in full-time observation mode. He’d been doing so well with not drinking, I felt like I had to protect his progress.
He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “At the moment. Five minutes from now, who knows?”
“Fair enough.” The microwave beeped, and I retrieved my dinner. I was so hungry I starting eating while standing there in front of the open door.
“You worked quite late. How are things at the magazine?” he asked, sitting on one of the tall stools on the other side of the island.
“Busy. But I kind of brought that on myself.” I covered my mouth with the back of the hand that held my fork as I talked around my food. “I’ve been taking a lot of time off lately.”
“You have,” he agreed. “I blame myself for most of that.”
“Nah. I just need to buckle down and get ahead of things, instead of keeping up with them.” I set my plate on the countertop and reached for my water. There was a heartbeat of silence between us before I swallowed and asked, “How did you do it? Balance work and family?”
He inhaled and lifted one hand to cup his chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t. Valerie was always better with that, even though she had Emma less. Emma spent more time with her nanny than with either of us, because we were both working so much.”
I shook my head and looked down. “Ugh, that was not the answer I wanted.”
“What answer did you want?” he asked, laughing gently. “Starting a company is difficult, but it’s even more so when it becomes very successful, very early. Your magazine is starting off well, and that creates certain demands. I think you’re doing wonderfully.”
“I thought we moved to the Hamptons to settle down, but we’re still fighting to make time for each other.” I couldn’t find the magical key to controlling the situation, and it was driving me batty. “You retired so we could be together.”
“We’re certainly together more now than we were when we were both working,” he argued. “This is just one of those challenges that come along with having such a wide age difference. It was always going to be that I was retiring while you were still working, whether it was at fifty or at sixty-five.”
“Yeah.” That didn’t mean I had to like it. “I just feel guilty. People are depending on their jobs, and I’m running off, doing whatever. We have our honeymoon coming up—”
“We are not going to cut our honeymoon short,” he warned. “I desperately need sand. And cold drinks.”
I gave him a minute to correct himself.
“Or not, I suppose, if therapy continues to go well.”
“Iced tea?”
“Sophie, that’s disgusting,” he admonished.
“I’m not going to cut our vacation short. But I am going to be spending more time here, I think.” My lower lip wobbled. I was tired and over-emotional. This was the worst time to talk about this.
“Are you going to cry?” he asked gently.
I wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands, remembering my eye makeup a fraction of a second too late. He came to my side and turned me to cradle my head against his shoulder.
“A few nights apart won’t hurt us. Perhaps you can make it a point to come home on weekends, and I’ll come here a couple of times a week. We could always close the house up and move back here temporarily—”
“No!” I stepped back and swatted furious tears from my cheeks. “No. We just spent millions of dollars on that place. And it feels like home now. This place does, too, but our house… That’s just ours.”
“This place is ‘just ours’ as well.” He looked genuinely confused that I didn’t feel the same way.
Ugh, I hated having to explain things that made me sound jealous. “It’s not, though. This is the home that you established with Elizabeth. You
guys picked out this furniture and the…the freaking crown molding.” I pressed my fingers to my temple. “Don’t get me wrong, I like staying here. I’m comfortable here. But it’s never going to be home to me in the way that our house is, because we didn’t do this together.”
“I hesitate to suggest this, with a very expensive wedding coming up—”
“No, no.” We didn’t need the added stress of a remodel or redecorating, which I was sure he was going to suggest.
He finished his sentence over the top of mine. “—but we could sell this place and buy another. Something not so posh as a Fifth Avenue address?”
Okay. So, the whole “remodel” thing sounded a lot better now. “You know, why don’t we just redecorate, like normal people?”
His raised eyebrows were a dead giveaway that he had not thought it through. “If that’s what you’d like to do, I’m sure we could manage it. If you don’t feel your plate is too full.”
“No, it’ll be fine.” I already had some thoughts for the foyer. It looked like a damn hotel. “Let’s do your plan. We’ll spend some time here, some at the house. I wanted to start this magazine, and I’m not going to throw it away to be attached to your hip.”
“You know that once Olivia is born, I’ll be looking for any excuse to come to the city, anyway.” He pulled me close again and kissed the top of my head. “This isn’t an insurmountable obstacle, darling.”
It wasn’t, he was right. It was just a super bummer at the moment.
“Hey,” he said softly, giving me a squeeze. “I’m here tonight. And we have all that pornography…”
I smiled against his chest. “I’m really tired. Can we just get off next to each other?”
“Would I turn down a chance to watch you masturbate?” He stepped back and looked down at me. “There. Now, you’re smiling.”
I sniffed and rummaged in the silverware drawer for a spoon to check my reflection in. I wiped gingerly at a streak of black liner on my lower lid.
Neil leaned his shoulder against the refrigerator and watched me. “We’re going to be fine, Sophie. The magazine took off, but you’re still getting your feet under you. It’s going to take some time, but I’m not worried about you. And I’m not worried about us.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my suddenly hoarse throat.
Damn, he could probably tell I was getting all weepy again. At least, this time, it was for a happy reason.
* * * *
It was strange how easily having my mom with us became routine. As her emergency leave wore on, it had become increasingly clear to me that she probably wouldn’t go back to Calumet, and I was fine with that. After she moved into the guest house, that is. It had been tense with her living in the house with us, popping up at inopportune moments as though she were consciously trying to interrupt any time Neil and I had to spend together. The weird thing was, she seemed genuinely unaware that she was doing it at all.
Sundays were fun. Emma and Michael still made it out to see us in the evening, and now that Mom was with us, it reminded me of the big family lunches we’d had at my grandmother’s house when I was growing up. Mom even came beforehand and helped Neil cook, though I don’t think he was as touched by the arrangement as I was.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable just sitting back and relaxing, Rebecca?” His smile was so tight it looked like his face would crack.
Looking up from the kitchen table, I mouthed, “Be nice,” exaggerated enough that he could see it from across the room. He gave me a stern, long-suffering roll of his eyes.
“You know what?” Mom asked, still chopping the green pepper into irregular sized pieces.
Neil hated that, and I had to roll my lips over my teeth and clamp down to keep from laughing at his agitated glares at the cutting board.
Mom gestured with her knife. “I was thinking that on Thursday I should come into the city with you, Sophie. Have lunch, maybe do some shopping while you work.”
“Yeah, sounds like fun,” I agreed readily.
Neil looked up from the roast he was expertly tying and met my eyes with renewed annoyance. After his initial relief at learning about Stephen’s book had worn off, he’d been grumpy as hell, but he wouldn’t admit it. I ignored it, because it felt like the most supportive choice. He turned his attention back to the meat. “You can’t on Thursday. We’re meeting the lawyer.”
A cold chill skated down my arms, and I pulled my cardigan tighter around my midsection. Whether out of spite or carelessness, Neil had opened a can of worms.
“You guys are going to see a lawyer?” Mom turned to each of us in turn, as perplexed as if he had said, “We’re going to the North Pole to visit Santa.” “What do you need a lawyer for?”
“For the prenuptial agreement, of course,” he said with malicious cheer.
He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t just opening a can of worms. He was exploding a bait bucket full of nasty, wriggly night crawlers all over our dinner.
“Oh.” Mom pursed her lips and set her knife down. Neil, pick it up. Get it out of her reach before she stabs you.
I’d have to smooth things over before anyone said anything else. “Yeah, well, you know. Neil has his assets, and I have mine. We’re doing a smart thing.”
“Please, Sophie. Do you really believe he’s doing this to protect your assets?”
I knew my mom’s opinion of prenups. They were for people who intended to get divorced and intended to screw each other out of a fair deal.
And Neil didn’t bother to defend himself. He was just trying to pick a fight.
“If Neil and I were to split up, I wouldn’t want much from him, anyway. We’ve got things divided up in a way that’s fair to me.” I bent my wrist and waved my arm in dismissal. “It’s not a big deal, because we’re not going to split up.”
“Then, why is it necessary?” Mom demanded.
Finally, Neil jumped in. “I’ve been divorced before, Rebecca. Without a prenup, it would have been far uglier than it was.”
Mom turned shocked eyes to me. “And you’re really okay with this, Sophie?”
“Of course I am. I’m marrying a guy who owns two media corporations. I own a magazine that he’s put a lot of money into, even if he’s not an official investor. I need to protect my interests, too.” I sighed in frustration. “And I don’t want people to think I’m in this just for the money—”
Mom threw up her hands. “So, if in five or ten years he leaves you, you’d just move out and get nothing?”
Neil made a lot more noise than necessary putting the roast in the oven. “There is a clause for spousal support in the agreement,” he said, his tone flat.
“Yeah. I’m not going to be hurting financially if we divorce. And I’d be hurting more emotionally, anyway.” My chest ached. Why the hell did Neil bring this up? Why now? We were supposed to be having a nice family Sunday, and he was picking a fight?
Mom was not moved. She made a disgusted noise and walked away from the island.
“Where are you going?” I called after her.
She was at the back door before she answered. “I’m disappointed in you, Sophie. And, right now, I don’t want to be around him.”
After the door closed behind her, I expected Neil to say something. He just turned and rinsed his hands at the bar sink then dried them with a paper towel. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.
I could only stand my angry silence for so long. “What the hell was that?”
He shrugged and started dicing the peppers Mom had abandoned. “It was your mother, grossly overreacting.”
I shot to my feet. “It was you poking the badger! I told you, more than once, not to mention the prenup. It’s not something people back home do!”
“It’s not my fault that your mother can’t see the difference between a small-town marriage and the dissolution of a legal union wherein billions of dollars would be in dispute.” He had the nerve to sound frustrated with me.
�
��She knows the difference. It’s just taboo to some people still, okay?” I huffed. “I’m not saying it’s right, and I’m not saying I don’t want one. But you didn’t need to tell my mom our private business just because you wanted to drive her out.”
“I was not trying to drive her out,” he insisted emphatically.
“Oh, bullshit. You were totally annoyed that she was here.”
He put down the knife and braced his hands on the edge of the island. “Fine. I was annoyed that she was here. I realize that I agreed to her staying here, but I can’t take much more of this.”
“More of what? Mom being around? Did you think she was going to just live in the guest house and stop by for Christmas?” I demanded.
“I expected she would at least stop letting herself in once she moved out there. I’m tired of worrying that she’s going to walk in while I’m jerking off.” He pointed toward the door in accusation. “She came into our bedroom looking for you the other day, and I was practically naked.”
I rolled my eyes. “She said you left the door open. And you weren’t ‘practically naked’, you were shirtless.”
“It was more naked than I would have liked to be in front of your mother!” he shot back, raising his voice considerably. “I should be allowed to be fully nude in my bedroom with the door open if I want to be. What kind of a person just strolls into someone else’s bedroom? Your family has no boundaries!”
“Oh, excuse me!” I matched his volume. “I don’t think a guy who had to run the plans for his will by his ex-girlfriend has any room to lecture on the topic of personal boundaries.”
“Don’t you dare bring that up, Sophie. We put that behind us. It’s not fair!”
“Fine! I rescind that example and substitute another.” I glared at him. “How about all the times we had to worry about whether or not your adult daughter who was living with us was going to overhear us doing it? How many times did that happen? Because it seems like it was a lot.”
He didn’t immediately respond, so I went on, “I know what’s wrong with you lately, okay? You’re upset because you know Stephen’s book is in the house, and you’re just waiting for it to pop out and scare you.”
The Ex Page 18