3 ALICE
“I know this is a surprise, and I didn’t mean to come unannounced. I know that’s rude. But I didn’t know how to get ahold of you, and well, I guess a small part of me was afraid that if you knew I was coming, you’d leave so you didn’t have to see me.”
I press my lips together as my eyes fall to the ground between us.
“What do you want?” he asks, voice rough like gritty sandpaper.
I swallow down the emotion his voice causes me to feel. “I’m here to start the divorce process,” I admit, leveling my eyes on him.
He lets out a bitter-sounding laugh. He shakes his head and picks up the wood he’s chopped by the arm full. “Why? Didn’t learn your lesson the first time, and now you’re getting remarried?” he asks, pushing past me toward the house.
I have no choice but to follow him. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just to get my affairs in order. My lawyer suggested it,” I tell him, following him onto the front porch.
It’s almost like he’s running from me because he somehow manages to open the screen door and the front door even with as much wood as he’s carrying. I don’t think anything of it. I just trailed him into the house I never wanted to see again.
He dumps the wood by the fireplace and stands upright, turning to address me.
“Let me get this straight. You snuck out on me and didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me where you were going. Just up and left. You stayed gone for ten years, and I didn’t hear a word from you. And now you come back asking me for a favor?”
He points at his chest as he looks at me with a raised brow and a clenched jaw.
I let out a long breath. “I thought you’d be happy to end this. You’ve been just as trapped by this marriage as I’ve been all these years.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never considered myself to be trapped, Alice. That’s probably why I’m still here while you escaped.”
He turns and heads into the kitchen. He’s back moments later with a bottle of whiskey.
By the time he’s back in the same room as me, he’s already gotten the cap off and the bottle to his lips.
He takes a long drink, and I stand back with my arms crossed.
I’ve known Cole Cook since I was sixteen years old. He’s always been a hothead, and talking to him while he’s pissed will never get me the result I’m hoping for. So right now, all I can do is stand back and let him cool off.
He sets his bottle of whiskey down on the coffee table, and he rips off his hat, gloves, and coat.
He wads them up and tosses them all into the corner even though I know that must kill him to do.
He’s a little anal about being orderly, and he likes all of his things to be put in their place.
He kicks off his boots, aiming for them to land by the door where the plastic tray holds his shoes.
Then he stands up and starts to remove his insulated overalls.
Even though I know he’s fully dressed under them, I can’t help but watch like I might get to see a show right out of a Vegas nightclub for women.
I have to admit, Cole has always been hot as hell, and he looks like he’s only gotten better over the years.
In high school and even when we were married, he was young and thin.
He was cut back then but thinner. Hard work has done wonders for his body.
He’s wearing a stained white T-shirt, and the sleeves stretch around his bulging biceps.
It’s tight across his chest and is loose around his narrow waist.
His jeans are snug, not tight, but not baggy.
I take a deep breath, remembering how he looks without those clothes, and it’s enough to give me a hot flash in the warm house.
When he’s done undressing from his outdoor gear, he picks up his bottle of whiskey and has a seat in his reclining chair.
It’s not the one he had when we were together, but it looks like he threw one out and brought a new one in.
He didn’t even bother to move it around the room. Everything looks exactly the same.
“Why? Why now?” he finally asks, and I take that to mean he’s cooled off a little.
I sit on the couch beside him, placing my purse on the floor between the sofa and coffee table.
“I’m getting older. I have no plans of remarrying ever. I don’t see myself having children because I’m not seriously seeing anyone. So I needed to start getting my life insurance and will in order.
My lawyer suggested finishing things with you before I start any paperwork that would have to be changed due to divorce.”
He bites his lower lip and then runs his hand over his thick, dark beard, smoothing it down. It’s something he does when he’s nervous or annoyed. “So you’re worried that I’ll come after you and your newfound fortune? You want to cut the dead limb off before killing the tree.”
Always tree references with him.
“Not exactly.”
He shakes his head once, and his nose wrinkles with disgust. “You thought I’d try taking your money?”
“No, not at all. It’s just a precaution.”
“Well, if you bothered to do any research, you’d see that I don’t need your money. I’m doing quite well now that I’ve taken on the logging company and opened a sawmill. We’re shipping lumber across the world every day. Hell, I might even have more money than you do.”
I want to roll my eyes at his childishness. “That’s great news, Cole. I’m proud of you. You’ve always talked about that.”
He seems surprised that I’m genuinely happy for him, but he doesn’t respond.
“And it’s not about money. I told you. It’s simply a technicality before drawing up legal papers.”
I reach into my purse and pull out the stack of divorce papers.
I set it on the table in front of us. “Each signature page is marked, so you don’t have to go through it page by page if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to take anything from you. I’m not trying to slip anything by you. I’m simply leaving this marriage the way I entered it.”
I push the stack closer to him.
He doesn’t move in the chair, but he looks at them, and I can see the wheels in his head-turning.
He’s thinking but about what? Is he thinking about refusing to sign?
Even if he does, there are ways around that.
It would just mean a wasted trip, but I guess I’ve done more for less.
Either way, it was nice to drive through the old neighborhood and relive a few fond memories I hadn’t thought about in a while.
“I’ll tell you what.”
“What?”
“I’ll sign those papers—”
“You will?” I cut him off out of excitement.
He lifts one brow as a silent challenge. “I’ll sign those papers only if you stick around and have dinner with me.”
My lips part as words fall from my mouth.
He wants me to have dinner? With him? Why?
He’s not hoping for some miracle that I’ll realize that I still love him, is he?
He’s not hoping for more than dinner, is he?
Is this a trap? I don’t know if I should go through with this.
But I do need those papers signed. A divorce would be easier if we both agreed and signed with no fighting.
“You snuck out of here ten years ago in the middle of the night without so much as a fuck you. I think you owe me one last dinner.”
I swallow down my emotion. He’s right. “Okay. One dinner,” I agree.
His crystal-blue eyes come alive and sparkle as a smirk stretches across his face. “Good, ’cause I just thawed out a couple of fresh steaks from a cow I had butchered not too long ago. I was going to cook one tonight and one tomorrow, but”—he shrugs—“I guess you can have one.”
I roll my eyes but force a smile. “Thanks.”
He nods. “Let’s get started, and we can talk all about our lives now,” he says in his smart-ass tone. He gets up and heads for the kitchen.
I let out a sigh, and I stand and follow him into the next room.
He’s already moving about, pulling out pots and pans we’ll need.
I walk over to the kitchen sink to wash my hands.
My eyes land on the silver ring I must have left here ten years ago.
It has a tiny turquoise stone and a few fake diamonds around it.
“Hey, I can’t believe this is still here,” I say, picking it up and putting it on my finger. I hold my hand out to admire the ring.
He looks over his shoulder at me and shrugs.
“How have you not knocked this down the sink yet? I remember you did that all the time. One of our biggest fights was about me not leaving my jewelry by the sink.”
“I may have knocked it down the drain a few times,” he says, voice void of emotion.
“And you took apart the drain to get it out even though I wasn’t here?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond.
With a sigh, I take the ring off and put it back in place to wash my hands.
“You may as well take it. It is yours after all.”
“I don’t know if you can call it mine now or not. You’ve had it longer than I ever did.”
He shakes his head, and his back straightens. “Just take the fucking ring, Alice,” he breathes out before walking out of the kitchen and to the screened-in back porch where the grill has always been. Based on how nothing else around this house has changed, I bet that hasn’t either.
I dry my hands and go through the motions of cooking dinner just like we did years ago.
It’s crazy that my body knows what to do after all these years.
It’s like no time has passed. I wrap some potatoes in foil and work on seasoning the steaks the way I always did.
I put both on the tray with the tongs. Then I work on making the rest—tossing lettuce, prepping the oven to bake some rolls, and even boiling eggs to add to the salads.
He doesn’t come back into the kitchen until he’s ready for the tray of food that goes to the grill.
He grabs a beer from the fridge and takes it with him, and it’s just like I’ve jumped back to when I was twenty years old, and the two of us were fighting like we always were.
I let out a long breath and shake my head.