Chapter Five #2
Lights on top of each shelf angle down to spotlight the shelves, not that I have any books on there, but for when there are. On the far right is an attached sliding ladder so she could easily reach the top shelf.
“This is stunnin’…I—” She spins around, her mouth agape. “I love it.”
It’s impossible to contain the smile that takes over my face. “I hoped you would. You said you wanted a readin’ nook, but I knew you’d fill that up in no time.”
“It’s a shame it doesn’t get used.”
I point to my small stack of books on the table next to my recliner. “I’m too slow of a reader to fill it. I’ve been workin’ on those for the past year.”
Curiously, she lifts the first book and looks through the others but stops on the Hayden Wills novel I’m in the middle of reading.
“That’s one of my favorite authors,” I murmur, walking up behind her. “But it takes me a couple months to get through his since they’re thicker.”
His epic fantasies are over eight hundred pages with small-ass text, but it means I always have something of his to read because there are several I haven’t gotten to yet .
“Oh,” is all she says before setting it down without going through the rest.
“I needed something to help me get out of my own head,” I blurt.
She knows I wasn’t much of a reader in high school, but it got lonely sitting in this house all alone.
“He’s a good writer,” she says, but there’s a weird hesitancy in her voice.
“You know of him?”
She turns so we’re facing each other. “Mhm. I’m a friend of his agent.”
“Ah.” That makes sense. She probably knows a lot of authors besides the ones she represents.
Her gaze finally lifts to mine. “You built this house as if you hoped it’d bring me back.”
“Of course I did.” I scratch over my scruffy cheek, contemplating how much to reveal when we’re this close. “We made plans for our future, and I made a promise to build your dream house. Split up or not, I wasn’t going back on my word.”
Her teeth drag along her bottom lip as if she’s trying to keep up with her thoughts. “I need you to understand that I’m not comin’ back. You know that, right?”
I will hold onto hope until the day I die. “Sure.”
“You need to decorate, fill up the empty space, and make it a home… for yourself . Open your heart to someone and give yourself permission to be happy. It’s not too late.”
Instead of telling her that’ll never happen, I come up with an idea.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
She takes a small step back, crossing her arms and looking less than amused. “ What kinda deal?”
“I’ll do those things you said if …”
Her shoulders slump because she knows I’m about to make it harder for her to get those papers signed. Good .
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering about the what-if and if this is the only chance I get, I’m taking it. It’s this or she files for a default divorce anyway.
“You gimme seven days to prove there’s still somethin’ between us.”
Her arms fall to her sides as she gapes at me. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s only a week. We deserve the chance we never got after you left and shit hit the fan.”
“A week ain’t going to change being apart for seven years or that I’m engaged to another man.”
“How do you know if we don’t try?” I challenge, hoping she’ll take the bait.
“You think you can make me change my mind and fall back in love with you in seven days?”
When she says it like that, I sound as delulu as Nicky.
But fuck it.
“No, but I think I can make you second-guess your decision in that timeframe. We aren’t startin’ from scratch.
We have history. You fell in love with me once before, and I have no doubt I can remind you what it was like.
I can show you what life would be like if you had stayed.
Maybe I’m wrong, and it’ll backfire, but maybe I’ll be right.
And hell, if I’m not, I’ll sign those papers and you’ll never hear from me again. ”
Her breath hitches, but then something flashes across her face.
“You have nothin’ to lose unless you’re afraid I’ll prove you wrong,” I prompt when she doesn’t give me an answer .
“You’ll sign those papers after seven days? No bullshit?”
“No bullshit.”
“I’m not cheatin’ on my fiancé.”
“I don’t recall askin’ you to, but if you wanna get technical, you were my wife first. Still are my wife. You’re the one who’s been cheatin’ on me.”
She resists rolling her eyes, but I can tell she wants to by her glare. “We’re separated.”
I purse my lips. “I don’t remember agreein’ to that or gettin’ any documentation that you filed for a separation…”
She sucks in a slow breath, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. “I didn’t.”
“So…accordin’ to Tennessee law, we’re legally married.”
“By the law, yes…but I think not talkin’ or seein’ your spouse for years implies the separation.”
“I’m just sayin’…there must’ve been a reason you never filed for one,” I probe.
“There is, but it’s not because I didn’t want one.”
“How do you think your fiancé’s gonna feel if he finds out he’s been the homewrecker this whole time?”
She swats my chest, but there’s no force behind it. “Can you stop being insufferable? You’re the one who wouldn’t sign the damn divorce papers!”
“Gimme seven days and I will…” Then I smirk because getting a reaction from her is better than the silence she gave me for years. “But I’ll be citin’ adultery as the reason.”
Her eyes harden, and I know I’ve pushed too far.
“Jokin’!” I hold up my palms in surrender, but I can’t help the cackle that releases from my throat. “I’ll sign whatever you want as long as you gimme this one chance.”
Her tongue pokes through her cheek. It’s one of her tells that she’s thinking or frustrated. “As long as you’re aware nothin’ will happen between us.”
The corner of my mouth tilts up slightly. “If you say so.”
I don’t give a fuck about her fiancé or the giant rock on her finger. Maisie was mine first and if she’s agreeing to give me one week, I’m doing whatever it takes to get her back.
And if it blows up in my face, at least I’ll be able to say I tried everything. Maybe then, I’ll be able to let her go and move on.