by KD Robichaux
She softens a bit, but she still looks unsure. “What is it?” she asks nervously.
I swallow, looking down at her lips before looking back into her beautiful eyes. “Nick’s mom and I… we’re separated. For three years now.”
She nods. “Okay?” She glances away and then back up at me. “Is… is it weird for you that Mike hasn’t been served yet? Because the only reason I’m okay with… this—” She nudges her chin to indicate my body on top of hers. “—is because it’s now out of my hands. I’ve filed the paperwork. There’s no going back. He’s getting served Monday and we are officially, legally separated.”
I shake my head. “No, naekkeo. It’s not that. I…” I sigh, feeling like a chump. Nut up, man. “I’m not legally separated. Nick’s mom is still technically my wife.”
Her eyes widen. “Your wife?” She blinks rapidly. “I… I didn’t know you were married. I thought… I thought you just had your son together.” She tries to sit up, but I don’t move. I don’t want her to run from me. “Let me up, Winston.”
It’s the use of my first name that makes me immediately lift my weight from her, and she scoots up the bed, her knees coming up to her chest as she sits against my pillows and wraps her arms around her calves.
“Three years, Cece. We’ve been separated for three years. I haven’t touched a woman in all that time,” I confess, not knowing where to start but hoping to at least put her mind at ease about that.
“Why? Why be separated for that long but not get a divorce? Why are you still married?” Her voice is high pitched but spoken softly, like she’s trying to keep her panic at bay.
“The biggest mistake of my life. We have a prenuptial agreement. My father may be a genius, but this idea turned around to bite me in the fucking ass,” I tell her.
“What’s the agreement?” she asks.
I hiss out a sigh. “We signed a mutual agreement. If one of us cheats, the other gets everything. If one of us asks for a divorce before we were married for ten years, the other gets everything.”
She shakes her head. “Why? Why in the world would you make that agreement? I mean, I get the cheating thing, but why the ten-year thing?”
“In my father’s mind, she got pregnant to trap me. He thought she was going to marry me, have the baby, and then divorce me to take half of everything I have, which by then included my trust fund. It was a scare tactic to see if she’d back down. He thought if she knew she’d have to be married for ten years before she’d get anything in a divorce, then maybe she’d say fuck it and try to swindle someone else. But also, I didn’t believe it about her. She was a sweet girl… at the time. She had me fucking fooled, which is why I ended up marrying her, so our kid could grow up with both his parents in the same house. Like you hoped for your girls,” I point out.
She nods, and I relax fractionally, until she asks, “So how much longer until your ten-year mark? You’ve been separated for three years, but how long were you actually together before that?”
“We were together four years before I finally kicked her out,” I reply, and watch her do the quick math in her head.
Her eyes meet mine. “Three years? You’ll have to be married three more years before you can ask for a divorce without her taking everything?”
I nod solemnly. “Unless I catch her cheating, that’s correct.”
She makes a panicked sound in the back of her throat. “And what about you, Win? What if she catches me here? Then it’s going to look like you’re the one cheating, and you’ll lose everything—your money, your restaurant… God, your son?” She swings her legs to the side of the bed and hops up before I can catch her. “You need to take me back to my car.”
“Naekkeo—”
“Don’t naekkeo me! I will not be the reason you lose everything just because your dad made you sign the worst prenup in the history of ever. Ten years? Ten years! To be stuck with someone you can’t stand even if they don’t cheat on you? There isn’t some kind of loophole? Something that says you can ask for a divorce without losing everything you’re worth?” All her questions come out in a rush as she paces my bedroom floor.
“Nothing. On purpose. Because she could’ve found the same loophole and taken me for half by law. My dad didn’t want me to lose anything, so it was an all or nothing deal. My lawyer has gone through it with a fine-tooth comb. There’s no other way out of it except to wait the ten years, at which time I could present all evidence I’ve collected in order to not have to give her half of everything I’ve earned during the marriage.”
She nods. “You need to take me back to the restaurant, Win. Now. If you’re collecting evidence, then how do you know she’s not doing the same damn thing, watching your every move in order to catch you doing something with another woman?”
I stand up, and when she turns back to face me in order to keep up her pacing, I catch her hands in mine and force her to look up at me. “In all this time, I never thought much about it. There was no other woman who caught my eye, so it didn’t matter. In the three years she and I have been separated, you are the first woman I’ve even wanted to spend time with. I didn’t think there’d ever been another person I’d want to get close to, after the hell Corina put me through the last seven years. I had given up hope of finding a partner in life, of finding someone to share my life with aside from my son. So the prenup and my situation wasn’t a big deal. And then you came along, and now everything’s changed.”
Her big doe eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she shakes her head. “I… I can’t deal with this right now. I need you to take me back to my car. Right now. I have way too much going on in my own life, with my own ex, to worry about yours taking everything from you. I want to go home.”
I refuse to force her to stay when she so clearly wants to go home, so I sigh once more, drop a kiss to her forehead, and then step back, letting go of one of her hands to pull her by the other through the bedroom door.
We don’t say another word as she grabs her purse from the kitchen, as I open my truck door for her, as I drive her back to the restaurant. I can’t think of a single thing to tell her to try to convince her I want to be with her, even in my fucked-up situation, that wouldn’t sound like a total douchebag thing to say.
But while it sucks this is the way the evening is ending, I’m grateful I manned the fuck up and told her the truth, because seeing her reaction, I can only imagine how hurt she would’ve been if I’d waited to tell her until after I’d made love to her. That would’ve been the kind of break in trust I never could’ve fixed. At least this way, I have hope I can convince her to be with me, even if we have to keep it secret for a while. I know she feels this connection between us, but is it as undeniable for her as it is for me.
Time will only tell.
13
Cece
I’ve been able to avoid Winston for most of my lunch shift today. It’s Sunday, so I’ve been busy serving up mimosas for the brunch crowd while the waitresses deliver everyone’s food, and I haven’t had to go to the kitchen to pick up any orders. I just don’t know what to say to him.
On the one hand, I feel bad that he’s stuck in this situation with absolutely no way out. He’s unable to find his own happiness and live his life, because of this prenup he signed seven years ago. But on the other, I cannot be the reason he loses everything. There is no way my conscience would let me live with that guilt.
And as if us talking about her conjured her into being, the woman herself walks through the door just as I’m about to clock out and go home to meet the girls when Mike brings them back from their sleepover at his place.
I didn’t know it was her at first, until Steph says, “Ah fuck. It’s been a while, but here we go. Hang on to your butt.”
My eyes shoot to hers. “What? Who’s—?”
“Corina,” she whispers, and I nearly drop the glass I’m drying before I take in the woman still legally married to the man I started falling for.
Corina is beautiful, and s
he clearly knows it. She has a set to her chin and a cock to her right eyebrow that gives off the impression she believes she is better than everyone in the vicinity. Behind her trails the cutest little boy I’ve ever laid eyes on, even if his expression is sad as he drags his feet.
Steph disappears to the back for a moment, and when she returns, Winston is with her. Corina reaches the bar, and the little boy gets up on one of the stools. When he looks up and spots Winston, his face instantly morphs from sad to ecstatic.
“Dad!” he calls, and Winston gives him a grin before turning suspicious eyes to Corina.
“Hey, buddy. Didn’t expect to get to see you until tomorrow. What’s up?” he asks Nick, even though the question is directed at his ex.
“I have some stuff to get done today, and Mom and Dad went out of town for the weekend. I need you to take him a day early,” she replies sassily, taking out her phone and typing into it as she speaks.
Winston takes out his own phone while I try to keep my hands busy and not look like I’m eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Then I’m going to need it documented that you are the one asking me to take him early,” he tells her, turning on his camera and holding it up to her.
She looks up angrily from her own phone and rolls her eyes. “You cannot be serious.”
“Serious as a heart attack, Corina. The one and only time I asked you to take him a day early was when my dad was having surgery and I didn’t want him to have to sit in the waiting room with me and mom for hours. You told me you were going to take me to court because I wasn’t holding up our 50/50 agreement,” he says, and she scoffs.
“Your dad was under anesthesia, asleep. He wouldn’t have known if you weren’t there.” She puts her phone away and crosses her arms under her ample chest.
Is… Is she serious right now? Did she really just say—
“Yes, Corina, but my mother would have had to sit there alone, waiting for her husband to get out of surgery. I know you have no clue what it means to selflessly care about and be there for another person, but that’s how it works. So say it. On camera. You are the one wanting me to take care of our son on a day that you are by law supposed to be responsible for him,” he orders.
And when I say I’ve never seen a grown ass woman throw a toddler tantrum, that is now a lie. Because Corina throws a fit to end all fits, right there in the restaurant, in front of everyone, including her little boy, who looks embarrassed but at the same time like this is nothing new as he just keeps his eyes locked on his dad.
“You’re such a fucking asshole, Winston! How dare you treat me like this, your wife, the mother of your child!”
That makes me cringe, and I sidestep away until I can reach my purse under the bar. I take off my apron as she continues to cause a scene while Winston continues to record her, the poor little guy sliding a Shirley Temple in front of him that Steph makes him as I loop my crossbody bag around me.
I’m out the front door before I realize my feet carried me away, vaguely hearing my name being called in Winston’s deep voice while Corina continues to yell.
A few hours later, I’m tucking Ruby in when she asks for my phone so she can call her dad to tell him goodnight. She does this every night, so it’s not a big deal. What is a big deal though, as I’m in the girls’ Jack-and-Jill bathroom, wiping the counters where water had splashed when they brushed their teeth, is when I hear her ask him, “Is Tammy coming over again next weekend?”
Who the fuck is Tammy?
I don’t hear his reply, but by her “Yay! I can’t wait to show her my new high score!” I know his answer was yes.
They finish up their conversation while I try to keep my features neutral, when inside… I don’t know what I’m feeling. Anger? Hurt? Embarrassment? This weekend has been a complete clusterfuck of emotions, when it was supposed to be amazing, filing for divorce, spending an evening with the guy I like, feeling like I might spot the light at the end of the tunnel, finally. But instead, everything has turned completely upside down and even worse than it already was.
I slide my phone back in my pocket when Ruby hands it to me with a smile. “So you had fun at your dad’s this weekend?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice steady.
Her little face brightens. “Yes! Dad’s friend came over and played video games with me!”
“His new friend, huh?” I prompt, rearranging the books on her nightstand.
“Yeah. She had dinner with us last night. She played with me for like a whole hour, but then she had to go home to feed her dog,” she replies.
I tilt my head at that. “Was she a babysitter? Was your dad there?”
“No, Mommy. She didn’t babysit us. Daddy was still there. I think she’s his new girlfriend even though he didn’t say the word. Kate thinks she’s pretty,” she added, and I swallow thickly, feeling a bit sick to my stomach.
“And what did Lola say?”
Ruby shakes her head. “Lola didn’t really hang out with us. She had her headphones in and listened to her K-pop guys the whole time.”
I nod at that. And now that I have a better understanding about the band she loves so much and their music, I have more of an appreciation that she has that bit of an escape for a situation that had to be super awkward for her. She’s not big into meeting and conversing with new people right off the bat. She’s more introverted than my other two babies. But thinking of BTS makes me think of Winston, and riding in his car to his house, and what we did at his house once we got there and after he fed me.
I blush and clear my throat, leaning down to press a kiss to my girl’s cheek. “Goodnight, my baby,” I tell her.
“‘Night, Mommy,” she replies and snuggles down farther under her covers as I shut off her lamp.
I barely make it to my room and close the door before my shaking hand reaches into my pocket and I pull out my phone. I dial Mia immediately.
“Hey, sis! You won’t believe where I a—”
“He’s got a girlfriend. He’s got a girlfriend, Mia, and I need you. Where are you? How long will it take you to get here, because I’m about to lose my shit!” I tell her, still not understanding why I’m so upset.
“Whoa, whoa, Cece. Calm down. It’s going to be okay. What happened?” Mia asks, and I hear traffic in the background as if she’s standing outside.
“I was tucking Ruby in, and she asked to call Mike to tell him goodnight like she always does. I overheard her ask him…” My voice croaks, and I clear my throat before relaying everything to her.
After a moment, Mia tells me, “Okay, I’ll be there soon. Don’t… do anything crazy. Like call him and cuss him out or anything. Just hold tight, okay?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”
When we disconnect, I toss my phone on the bed and stumble to my walk-in closet. I hold onto the doorjamb as I toe off my nonslip tennis shoes I never took off after work and nudge them into their place at the bottom of my shoe holder. I strip out of my work clothes and toss them in the hamper, grabbing a pair of wide-leg lounge pants and a tank with a built-in shelf bra and heading to my master bathroom.
I barely make it inside the shower before I lose my shit.
If I wasn’t afraid to scare the hell out of my little girls, I would scream at the top of my lungs. But instead, everything comes out of me in angry sobs. And then I realize, I’m not upset in a sad sense. I’m fucking pissed.
How dare Mike have the audacity to be dating someone before he even knows our divorce papers have been filed! He left it up to me to file for divorce, refusing to go ahead and get things started or even talk about it, and that motherfucker has been dating someone long enough he saw fit to bring them around our girls? And that’s another thing! He didn’t even talk to me about bringing a woman around our kids. Isn’t that something parents are supposed to do, come to a decision, an agreement together and decide when it’s all right to introduce someone they’re dating to the children?
And it was sprung on
me. Not only that, but I had to find out about it from my daughter, and after the fact!
If I hadn’t just promised my sister that I wouldn’t call him and cuss that asshole out, I sure as fuck would be doing just that as I finally figure out what I’m so goddamn mad about.
It actually makes me feel a little better knowing what all my emotional turmoil was all about, enough that I stand back up from where I’d collapsed on the shower floor and squeeze some shampoo into my hand. Next comes the conditioner, and while that sits in my hair, I scrub my face then shave my armpits. After rinsing out the conditioner, I pour some body wash on my loofa and scrub at least one layer of skin off, feeling even better, since I know this new outer layer of me is one that fucker Mike, or any man, has never touched before. I’m a brand-new woman.
With a sense of clarity I haven’t felt since Mike told me he cheated on me, I hop out of the shower, throw my hair up in a towel, and get dressed, grabbing my hairbrush and making my way down into the kitchen to wait for my sister. When she walks in the door a few minutes later, I’ve got my wet hair in a braid, two shot glasses down from the cupboard, and a brand-new bottle of vodka that I found in Mike’s old liquor cabinet. I was shocked when I opened it and saw it sitting there, surprised he hadn’t grabbed it when he came and got all of his stuff. It’s the good stuff, top-shelf vodka that goes for a stupid amount of money at work. It’s usually reserved for the special occasions crowd, and here I have a whole bottle all to myself on Mike’s dime. I should just pour it out to be petty, but I’d rather get shitfaced with my sister.