21. John
21
JOHN
I swallow roughly as we pass by neighborhoods, some run-down, others thriving. That was not how I expected the conversation to go. I’d hoped he’d forgotten about the divorce papers. Last night, while lying in bed, I was wondering yet again if I could live here with him. I would sell the bar, and maybe we could put our money together to help us buy a little place somewhere. I could find bartending work at one of these many businesses and support Micah’s dreams.
It doesn’t feel exactly right, but maybe it could work.
Once he parks, we head inside a restaurant that reminds me of a 1950s diner. I smile as we order and pay for burger combos at the counter, then slide into a brightly colored booth to wait for our food. It’s a quirky little place that would fit in well in Aqua Vista. Even the server who brings our sodas is wearing an era-style waitress dress with a wide collar and name tag.
I wait as Micah takes his first sip. “Could you ever see me living in LA with you?”
“Honestly? No.” He frowns, and my stomach bottoms out. “No matter how much I would love to have you here with me, you wouldn’t be happy.”
“Just like you weren’t in Aqua Vista?”
“I suppose.” He glances in the distance. “I don’t think you’d enjoy living in a city. Aqua Vista and the bar, that suits you.”
I square my jaw, not only because he’s right, but because it solidifies for me that he’s content here and this is probably the end for us.
“How bad do you want to sell the house and disappear from small-town memories?” I laugh humorlessly.
“I never want to leave you, J.” The anguish in his expression makes my gut churn. “I’ll admit I’m appreciating more things this time around.”
My eyes spring to his. “Like what?”
“Hanging with you, of course.”
I wink. “That’s a given.”
He chuckles, which helps lighten the mood.
“Fishing has sort of inspired me again. It feels good to hold my rod. Did I tell you I found it way back in the closet?”
My lips part in surprise. “So he didn’t get rid of it after all?”
Grandpa Malone was so angry. He knew disposing of his pole would be punishment enough for Micah. That and being unwelcome anywhere near the docks.
“You might’ve been right.” He sips his soda thoughtfully. “Maybe it was Grandpa’s plan to get me back on the docks. And on his boat.”
“I’m convinced,” I reply as our food is served. “You know of any fishing docks in the area to scout out?”
He shakes his head. “Guess I’ll have to ask around. Maybe Dennis will know or friends from work.”
That sits heavy in my gut. The idea that he might pick up where he left off as a fisher except here instead. But what did I expect?
After we eat in comfortable silence, I suggest, “Did you want to stop by work before we leave town?”
My request is sort of selfish because I wouldn’t mind seeing where he spends most of his nights.
“That would only confuse the situation. I’m lucky my boss gave me extended time off and that my job will be waiting for me when I return.”
I crumble the wrapper my burger came in. “Maybe you won’t have to return at all.”
He swallows his last bite. “What do you mean?”
“That you’ll get the part, duh.” I wink.
“Oh yeah. That.” He averts his eyes. “I told you I don’t set myself up for disappointment.”
I push my tray aside. “I get that, but I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard and really improved over the years. Your acting is great.”
“Thanks. Too bad I haven’t been able to break in anywhere.”
I tap his hand. “Maybe this is the one.”
Micah hitches a shoulder as if unable to allow that idea to take hold, and it unsettles me. “I’m proud of you too, you know.”
I swallow my fry. “For what?”
“Like I said, look at the business you created all on your own. It’s become the Aqua Vista watering hole.”
“More like water cooler.” I smirk. “I hear all the gossip.”
“But you’re built for that, always have been. I’m not really made for Hollywood, even if I do love the acting part.”
“Maybe that’s what’s blocking you—not fully believing in yourself.”
He arches a brow. “You think?”
“Worth a shot. Positive thinking, manifestation, and all that.”
He chuckles. “Like those ridiculous affirmation cards Beth carries in her shop.”
We share a smile.
I lean toward him and murmur, “I’ll be okay, and so will you. I have to trust that.”
He nods as the server refills our sodas.
“Which reminds me.” He lifts the manila envelope and pulls out a stack of papers.
“Wow, that’s a lot to file.”
“It is.” He winces. “A bit more complicated than our separation.”
“Suppose it makes sense,” I reply, studying the forms. Since it’s final.
“It works the same in that one of us files the initial petition for dissolution and pays the court fee.”
“I’ll split the cost with you.”
“Appreciate that.” He fans out three pages. “But along with the petition and summons forms, there’s also a property disclosure form.”
“You mean Grandpa Malone’s house and boat?”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t own them during our separation. But now that I do…”
“I don’t want any of it,” I blurt out. “It doesn’t belong to me. Just like you didn’t want anything to do with me inheriting my parents’ house.”
“I figured you’d say that. But we still have to fill out the forms.”
The server leaves us alone while we’re sorting through the documents. We agree on everything in the dissolution, even the wording of irreconcilable differences. When all is said and done, there are a couple of areas we can’t answer without looking into our own records.
“I can get that information to you once we’re back in Aqua Vista.”
“Sounds good. And when I return to LA, I’ll officially file at the courthouse.”
I feel a cold punch to my chest. “What happens after that?”
“They send you a summons, a court date is set, and according to the website where I downloaded the forms, it’ll take about six months.”
I watch, unable to speak, as he collects and stores the forms in the envelope.
“Well, that feels heavy,” Micah mutters, filling in the silence where I can’t.
“But it’s what you want,” I blurt, feeling raw and achy.
“It’s not what either of us wants.” His expression fills with sorrow and regret. “But it’s what we need.”
“Yeah, I know.” I try for humor. “Unfortunately, I’ll no longer be able to get out of hookups by admitting I’m married.”
His eyes widen. “Do you really?”
“Nah.” I smirk. “I let people know upfront that I’m legally separated.”
“Yeah, same.” A flush dots his cheeks. “Well, not for every hookup.”
My stomach sours, but still, I have to ask. “Have you ever dated anyone?”
“Why would I?”
“Because we haven’t been together in years?”
“But you’re the only one I ever wanted to be with.”
Goddamn, this man will be the death of me. He says all the right things, but it doesn’t matter because we can’t make it work. And trying again might be even more painful.
Our eyes connect, and I hope Micah sees all the underpinnings of truth in mine. That no one could ever take his place. He will always be the love of my life.
I slide out of the booth. “Maybe our divorce will free you up to find some companionship in this godforsaken town.”
“Don’t count on it,” he mutters, following me out.