Valentine’s with the Silver Fox (Festive Flames)

1. James

1

JAMES

I locked my phone and slid it into my pocket. The text I had been waiting for all day had finally come in and I was tense. After the argument Barbra and I had this morning, I held out almost no hope that my plan would be successful. I tried to keep my chin high, staring out the window at the snow that blanketed everything and covered the iced-over bay. It felt like I'd been unsuccessful at the one thing in life I never thought I had to worry about.

My business was successful. I'd poured years into developing the latest AI models that were now reaching global scales and growing in leaps and bounds. But my marriage was in shambles, if you could even call it a marriage. Barbra had been on again, off again for the past year, but mostly "off" for the past six months.

Ms. Hart was supposed to help me change that. I paid a huge fee for her services, and while she was no marriage therapist—just a wedding planner—I had heard she was a miracle worker, the best in the business. My attempt at wooing Barbra back from the brink of divorce just in time for the holidays, with a Valentine's Day vow renewal ceremony, was a grand gesture I hoped Barbra would see as romantic and thoughtful.

I turned away from the window and headed out of my office and down the long hallway toward the living room. The whole place had shifted and transformed in the past five days. As soon as Halloween was over, my staff went to work decorating for the season of thanks, and my entire eight-bedroom home was now drenched in hues of orange, yellow, and brown—something Barbra had always insisted on.

I wasn't much of a decorator, though I liked things to look nice. She was the one who took care of it all, and the staff always acted as an extension of her very own hands. I appreciated that about her, and in that way, she was a good partner. She softened my edges a little and made our house feel like home, despite the utter lack of familial feelings in the massive home. She'd never wanted children, and since it was her body, I had no choice. Another sore spot between us.

Maybe that was why she cheated. It'd been a year since I walked in and found her with her personal trainer doing moves I'd never even seen before, let alone thought were possible. She craved a life I wasn’t giving her, and I focused on my empire and the future I thought it would buy for Barbra and me. I hadn't laid a hand on her since then, mostly because of her choices. I wanted to make things right. She didn't.

But I wasn't going to stop trying. When I said, "'Til death do us part," I meant it. Better or worse turned out to be a lot worse than I thought, and six months of therapy didn't help. She swore she wasn't with the man anymore, and I believed her, but her jaunts to hotels around the country for two or three weeks at a time to "clear her head and think" had gotten more regular. Now I was beginning to wonder if my money was just affording her the luxury to have multiple partners in multiple states.

I nervously checked my phone again, but there were no new updates. If Ms. Hart could work miracles, then possibly Barbra would begin to see that I really did want to put as much effort into this as possible. Things had been so dead and dry for so long, there really was so little hope that anyone could restore things quickly, but with a little effort, I thought we could start over.

I heard noise behind me and turned toward the arched door between the front entryway and the living room and noticed Barbra walking in with two suitcases. She wore a purple suit and black heels. Her hair was tucked under a hat, and she wore her coat, hanging open in the front.

She turned to look at me, and her expression was void of any emotion or indication of what was happening. "James," she said, stepping into the living room and standing at the fringed edge of the Persian rug.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, confused at why she had suitcases. She'd only just returned yesterday from two weeks on the east coast, and I thought she intended to stay for the holidays. We had several parties and gatherings we traditionally hosted, things our friends and family members looked forward to each year. She was the one who started the tradition, and I thought she enjoyed entertaining.

"Yes," she said curtly. As she spoke, she started to zip up her coat.

"Well, where are you going? How long will you be gone? We have a lot of planning to do for?—"

"I'm leaving, James." Barbra's head rose and she locked eyes with me, and I knew exactly what she meant without further explanation, but I just wasn’t willing to accept it. It was like she quit a long time ago, and I knew she'd quit, but I kept going through the motions. Maybe that was how she felt when I was working so much and she was waiting for me to come home and spend time with her. I understood that much. It just didn't excuse the cheating.

"Well, when will you be back?" I took a hesitant step toward her and thought about how I'd heard her say these words so many times that my heart even stopped responding. I felt cold and dead inside, not panicked or angry or insecure in the least. I felt calm.

"I'm not coming back." Her chin lifted slightly when she said it, her nose in the air. The determined expression she wore told me she'd made her choice now and no matter what I said or did, she wasn't going to change her mind.

"I see…" Anger wanted to rise up, but I pushed it down. We'd argued so much, there were no words left to scream at each other, no mud to sling, no blame to be placed. I neglected her. She cheated on me and broke my heart and my ability to trust. I wanted to work it out. She wanted freedom. It was that simple.

"An annulment would be easiest," she said as she turned to pick up her bags. I heard car tires crunch the snow and ice out front and looked out to see a car pull up. "If you just sign the damn papers the first time, we won't have a lengthy court battle." She stooped and wrapped her hands around the handles of the suitcases and lifted them. "Get the door," she ordered, and I scowled.

But I did what she wanted. Strangely, this announcement didn't surprise or disappoint me. I walked toward the door and put my hand on the knob and sighed. "And you're certain there is nothing I can say or do to change your mind?" When I saw the look of anger and contempt on her face, I pulled the door open and stepped back.

She walked past me without a word and out into the crisp November air and toward her car, her driver waiting with the engine running. She'd been planning this all morning, probably since the argument, and I'd naively come downstairs to prepare for Ms. Hart's arrival with the thought that it was just another argument, just another day of misery. Now Barbra was climbing into her limo and Ms. Hart was exiting her Uber, and they passed each other on the sidewalk.

Ms. Hart smiled, but I know Barbra only scowled at her. It was the only expression I'd seen on Barbra's face in six months. I knew it well. She had turned into a very bitter, angry woman I hardly recognized, and I had lost all respect or affection for her. My actions had been out of duty—the sanctity of marriage as an institution, my morals, what I was taught to believe. And I was a fool for trying long after she'd given up.

"Uh, hello…" Ms. Hart stood on my front stoop, layered in winter gear with rosy cheeks and nose, and her hand reached out toward me. "I'm Ivy Hart, here to consult for your vow renewal service in February."

I looked down at her hand blankly and robotically took it and shook it. I felt hollow, like Barbra had taken an ice cream scoop and dug my insides out and thrown them away. I wanted to tell Ms. Hart her services weren't needed. Hell, I'd have let her keep the full fee and move on, but I didn't want to be alone right now. I knew if I went into that huge house that was now empty —permanently—my anger would get the better of me and I'd go into a spiral.

I looked down at her hand in mine and blinked slowly, then nodded and stepped aside as I let her go. "Please come in…" I now had zero hope that Barbra and I were ever getting back together, and the truth was somehow freeing. It felt like I could stop pretending to want something that felt like more work than it was worth. Though, the idea of navigating the holidays alone for the first time in fifteen years felt daunting.

I followed Ms. Hart into my living room and shut the door. She began to unbundle herself, and I didn't even know how to tell her the entire event was probably off. My life was off. My heart was off, and I just felt defeated.

"You have a lovely home," she said, and she peeled her coat off and draped it over her arm. She wore a mustard-colored sweater and a black skirt. Her long brown hair was braided and draped across her shoulder, and her heart-shaped face was endearing. She had a welcoming smile too, something that always appealed to me.

"Thank you… Um, Ms. Hart, I'm afraid my plans for the vow renewal have just changed." I walked toward the center of the room and gestured at my leather sofa. "Please have a seat." I sat down in the leather armchair nearest the fireplace as she situated herself at the end of the sofa, and I thought of how without Barbra, there was no reason for the event in February, no way I'd pull off my holiday obligations either. Unless Ms. Hart could magically transform from a wedding planner to an event coordinator.

"Changed?" she said, and apprehension knit her brow. Unlike Barbra's stoic face, easily able to hide any emotion, Ms. Hart wore her feelings on her sleeve.

I knew I was under contract with her, and she probably counted on this job. I had already paid for the entire thing, though the venue was non-refundable, and while I didn't care about the wasted money, I hated the wasted effort. A plan started to form in my mind as I stewed over how Barbra had left me so suddenly. I'd never done all the holiday prep myself. I needed someone who knew what they were doing.

"Ms. Hart, would you stay for lunch? I think I have a proposition you might be interested in—if it fits into your schedule." I watched her face shift from nervous to curious, and she nodded.

"Of course. I'd be happy to hear your proposal."

Proposal… now that was a word that cut me deep. Changing my surprise vow renewal to something more depressing while navigating a barren holiday season was the farthest thing from a proposal than I'd ever care to feel. I hoped Ms. Hart could still be my magic charm. Maybe she'd make the holidays bearable, at the very least.