8. Axel
Two weeks.
It’d been two weeks since I’d last seen her. Since I’d last heard from her.
Every day was just as agonizing as the one before, and I started to wonder if it would ever get better. A part of me hoped she would realize she couldn’t live without me and come back.
But she didn’t.
There were times when I wanted to text. Times when I wanted to stop by her apartment just to see how she was doing. But since she was the one who’d decided to leave the relationship, I wasn’t in a position to do that. If I pursued her, it wouldn’t be romantic, just harassment.
Times like these made me reconsider killing Dante. If I couldn’t have her, then neither could he.
I was on the couch in my bedroom, my date for the evening a decanter of scotch, when Aldo knocked on the door.
I was still pissed at him for the fiasco with Theo, so I ignored him.
Aldo knocked again.
“Fuck off. I’m not hungry.”
“Sir, Scarlett is here to see you.”
In a nanosecond, my world changed. The dull grays suddenly turned brilliant. A rush of emotion burst through me and erased the numbness. I moved off the couch so quickly that I tripped and stumbled forward before catching myself on the other couch. I made my way to the door and ripped it open so hard it swung around and made a dent in the wall. “She’s here. Now?”
“She’s waiting in the parlor.”
My heart raced so fast that it made me realize I hadn’t had a heartbeat these last two weeks. Adrenaline. Endorphins. Ecstasy. Everything rushed through me like a needle had just been injected into my arm. “Did she say why she’s here?”
“No.”
“Does she have papers with her?” Divorce papers. I hadn’t filed, and if she really wanted to be free of me, she would have to do the dirty work herself.
“Not that I recall, sir. But I suppose her purse is big enough to stash some paperwork…” He stared at me.
I stared back.
“Will you see her?”
“Yes, I just need a minute.”
“Of course.” He reached around and grabbed the door before he shut it.
I walked into the bathroom and quickly rinsed my mouth to hide the evidence of the scotch. I was in just my sweatpants without a shirt and I considered changing, but then I realized it was nearly eight o’ clock and she knew I was never dressed when I was home. Didn’t want to make it seem like I tried too hard. Until I knew the purpose of her visit, I didn’t want her to see my hand. I wasn’t the kind of guy to play games, but this was a match I had to win.
I headed downstairs and approached the parlor. The double doors were open, and Aldo had already prepared a fire. She sat in one of the armchairs, her gaze on the flames, the light blanketing her features in a tantalizing glow. It was the first time I’d seen her since she’d left, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at her pictures on my phone because it would only make her absence hurt more. I was rooted to the spot, remembering the softness of her cheek when my fingers brushed against it. Our estrangement had been brief, but it felt like years since I’d seen her. She even looked different, like it’d been two years instead of two weeks.
I stepped into the room, and her head immediately turned when she heard me. Instead of remaining in her chair, she got to her feet, her hands immediately coming together at her waist, something she did when she was nervous.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
My heart raced like an off-beat drum.
Her expression was composed, but her eyes were a little wider than they normally were, showing the same adrenaline that I was sure raced in her veins.
I came closer to her, standing near the fire.
She didn’t look at my bare chest, her eyes glued to mine.
I glanced at her bag on the table. The top was closed, so I couldn’t see the contents inside. My eyes flicked back to hers, desperate to know the reason for her visit. If she wanted me back, I expected a different reception than this guarded one. If she wanted a divorce, she could just mail the papers.
She broke eye contact first, her breaths so elevated that her chest visibly rose and fell. She looked at the fire for a few seconds before she found the strength to look at me again. But no words were forthcoming.
I didn’t want to speak first. I wanted to know what she wanted before I made an idiot out of myself.
But she still didn’t talk.
“If you have something to say, you should say it. Otherwise, I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to kiss you and make love to you. I’m going to make love to you and tie you up so you can’t leave me again.”
Her gaze flicked away, and the firelight reflected off the tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and that told me that these last few weeks had been as agonizing for her as they’d been for me.
I hadn’t taken off my wedding ring since the day I’d put it on. I still wore it now—because I hoped she would come back. Being married to the wrong person in the past had shown me I was married to the right person now. But there was a fucking snake in our bed, biting at our heels and making us bleed.
“I—I wanted to talk to you.” She wasn’t the confident woman that I knew. She was practically in shambles, so unsure of herself that she couldn’t stand still. Her body swayed slightly like a flower stem in the breeze. She couldn’t hold eye contact for long, always darting her gaze away when it became too much for her.
I swallowed the disappointment. “Say what you want to say.”
She moved back to the armchair that she’d occupied previously.
My fantasy of a scorching-hot kiss in front of the blazing fireplace was extinguished. The disappointment was bitter, and the anger was sharp. It took me a second to move to the corner of the couch closest to her and give her my attention without looking enraged.
She stared at her hands for a moment. “I talked to my father…”
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling an accumulation of shock and hope. I’d begged him to tell her the truth so I could get her back, but that request had seemed to fall on deaf ears. But perhaps seeing how miserable she was gave him a change of heart.
“He told me that love deserves a second chance sometimes.”
My heart dropped like a stone in a flat pond. The ripples stretched out endlessly.
“He believes you really love me.”
Anyone who saw us together would believe that. “You came here to talk about us, but it sounds like you only want to talk about your father.” My temper made me lash out like an angry child. It was stupid on my part, but I was pissed off that Dante didn’t do the right thing and tell her the truth. He took the coward’s way out and tried to get around his lies.
She flinched at the aggression in my voice. “I’m trying to tell you I’ve thought things over?—”
“No, your father whispered in your ear, and whatever opinion he has, you have.”
Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine in horror.
She’d come here to work things out, but I was too pissed off to care. I chose to burn down the house—and our relationship with it. “I’m tired of being in bed with your father. I’m tired of this being a fucking threesome. I’m tired of your father having the power to interfere and influence this relationship with the snap of his fingers. Scarlett, we’re married, which means we’re family. But I’ve never been treated like family.”
Her eyes continued to water. “I said I want to work on this relationship?—”
“There is no working on this relationship,” I snapped. “I’ve kissed the ground you walk on from the moment I saw you. Your father is the one who tore us apart like a flimsy piece of paper. You either believe me or you don’t—and you clearly don’t. I spoke to your father last week and fucking begged him to come clean, but he refused. Instead, he chose to stay in the shadows and pull your strings like the puppet you are. Tried to get the same outcome without the transparency. That’s not how I want you, Scarlett. I want you to march in here and tell me you love me and can’t live without me. You think sitting here listening to you say your father gave his approval of our relationship makes me hard? You think that’s romantic? You think I want to hear that shit?” I got to my feet and moved back to the fire. “I haven’t left the house in two weeks. I’ve been fucking miserable. Sitting around waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and come back to me. But that’s clearly not going to happen. So get the fuck out of my house.”
She was still on the armchair, her eyes wet and reflecting the firelight.
“I’m obviously an idiot because I only fall for the wrong women. My first wife burned my life to the ground, but I think you’re a bigger mistake because I should have known better by now.” I lit the match and poured gasoline on the fire. Even though she was on the verge of sobs, I kept going. “I deserve better than this. I deserve better than you.”
That last statement broke her, and the sheen in her eyes deepened into tears. Her bottom lip quivered as the sobs tried to break out of her chest. She reached for her purse, and with her head down, she rushed past me and out the door.
I let her go. I let her walk out of my life—for the last time.
Theo emptied his glass with a final sip before he returned it to the table. “You must feel better if you’re out of the house.”
We sat together in a quiet bar, most of the patrons gone for the night. The bar was supposed to be closed, but they kept it open for us. Nothing good happened at two a.m.—and truer words had never been spoken. “I saw my lawyer today. Filed for divorce.”
Theo’s eyes widened at the statement. His reactions were always muted and subtle, but this elicited a visceral response. “I thought you were going to talk to Dante.”
“I did.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, opened the file, and then pressed play. Our voices sounded in the quiet bar, the two of us talking in his parlor as I implored him to grow a pair of balls and man up to his mistakes. The recording was about ten minutes long, and once Theo got the gist of the conversation, I stopped it.
Theo picked up his cigar and stared at me. “Is there a reason you haven’t played that for Scarlett?”
“I shouldn’t have to.” I returned the phone to my pocket. Scarlett hadn’t texted me since she’d left my home the other day, not that I expected her to. She could have been in my bed that night, her soft thighs around my hips, but I was done.
“It’s her father?—”
“If she opened her fucking eyes, she would know it’s true just based on the other shit he does.” He walked all over her like a damn doormat, and she tolerated it. “She came to my place the other night and said she wanted to work on things.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It’s not when she prefaces it by telling me that her father encouraged her to do it.”
Theo gave a slight nod in understanding. “He’s trying to get around it.”
“Coward.”
“At least he feels guilty enough to try. Maybe he’s not as much of a psychopath as I thought.”
“He’s not a psychopath,” I said. “He’s evil—that’s what the fuck he is.” I brought the cigar to my lips and let the smoke flood my mouth. It was licorice, my least favorite flavor.
“Maybe you should sleep on this?—”
“I have slept on it. I’m done.” I released the smoke from my mouth. “I’ve only loved two women—and they were both mistakes.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to compare Scarlett to that bitch.”
“She’s a mistake, nonetheless.”
“Scarlett didn’t lie to take your money and get you thrown in jail. She didn’t destroy your relationship with your parents. It’s fine to be upset, but the comparison is not only inaccurate, but insulting to Scarlett.”
“Didn’t realize you liked Scarlett so much.”
He shrugged. “She’s a victim in an abusive relationship—and she doesn’t even realize it. Simple as that.” He brought the cigar to his mouth and sank back in his chair. “I agree that you’ve earned her trust, but people are complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated.”
He pulled the cigar away and let the smoke release. “I can tell you’ve made up your mind, so I’ll leave it be.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I haven’t felt this good in weeks.”