All of Me (The Divorcee Book Club #1)

Prologue

Divorce

Ella

Laughter was all around me. Tonight we were in a private room of one of the top restaurants in town. Surrounding me was a group of close family and friends. We're here tonight to celebrate my husband’s birthday.

The chiming sound of silverware tapping on glass makes the room go silent. Turning my attention from the many smiling faces, I place my sights on the man of the hour.

Standing at the head of the table is my husband, Andrew.

Even after twenty-two years of being in love with him, he still looks as good as the first day I saw him.

Smooth caramel skin spread out over six feet of a sexy toned body.

When we were younger, his beautiful chocolate brown curls had the girls going crazy.

Now, his bald head and goatee have women’s heads turning.

The man is gorgeous, I’ll give him that.

Andrew clears his throat. “I want to thank everyone for coming out and celebrating my birthday with me.”

“Any time, Drew!” Jack, one of Andrew’s law school buddies, shouts out.

My husband chuckles. “I told Ella I didn’t want a party, but of course she didn’t listen.” He makes the joke casually, causing his friends and family to laugh.

However, I don’t join in on the laughter. I spent weeks preparing for this party. Picking the restaurant, making sure everyone got their invites, managing everyone’s questions and schedules so they could be here. Weeks that he knew about in advance.

It wasn’t until this morning that he decided he no longer wanted the damn party. By then it was too late to cancel. Of course, it was still my fault.

Andrew takes a sip of the champagne in his glass before placing the flute back down on the table. He straightens and tugs at his suit jacket while looking directly at me.

“I’d planned to tell her this in private. But, I guess now is as good a time as any.....I want a divorce.”

Although the room was so silent you could hear a rat piss on cotton, the sound in my ears was loud like static or waves crashing against the shore. Clearly, I’d misheard him.

“What did he say?” My mother asks.

Apparently, she needed clarification too.

Everyone’s gaze turned to me. I’ve always hated being the center of attention. I think it stems from my mom forcing me to recite those Christmas and Easter speeches in front of the church when I was a kid.

However, I’d rather be back in front of that church getting tongue-tied over the Lord’s Prayer than be here.

“I said, I want a divorce,” he repeated the words so casually, as if he isn’t single-handedly turning my world upside down.

I sit paralyzed in my seat, trying to make sense of his words.

Admittedly, we haven’t been those two fifteen-year-old kids that fell madly in love in a long time.

We go longer days without mending arguments or showing affection.

The ‘I love you’s’ have shortened to maybe once a week, if that.

Sex has become so predictable I can usually time it down to the second.

I can’t say that this came out of nowhere, because I felt him pulling away long before today. But not once has he ever addressed the issue with me, or suggested counseling. I assumed we were in a rough spot and would work our way through it. Never would I have thought this would be the outcome.

“I don’t understand.” I’m struggling to wrap my mind around this entire situation. We have kids together, a mortgage, and fifteen years of marriage. How can he stand here and tell me he wanted to leave?

“I don’t know how to make it any clearer.”

“The clarity isn’t the problem,” Mama says in answer to Andrew’s comment. “We’re trying to figure out the audacity.” Her leg is jumping underneath the table, bumping up against mine.

Usually, in situations like this, I have to find the right words to say to calm her down. I’m an only child and no one is allowed to mess with Faye Alexander’s baby. No matter how old I am.

However, right now, I don’t have it in me. I can’t be the reasonable one that keeps my mother from whooping ass—as she likes to call it—because I’m still confused.

His parents, who often coddled him too much for my liking, sit across from me. They look as if they knew this announcement was coming. I don’t doubt it. His mother never knew how to take the tit out of his mouth.

“It’s understandable, son,” Mrs. Scott says, admiring her son as if he’s her lover.

“Understandable?” my stepfather repeated, leaning forward in his seat. “What is understandable about telling your wife of fifteen years that you want a divorce in a room full of people?”

Mrs. Scott opens her mouth to say something else, but her husband places his hand over hers on the table, causing her to close her mouth.

“All we’re saying is that he is entitled to not want to be married.”

“Entitlement is his problem,” Mother argued.

“A real man would never announce no shit like that in public. He’d have enough respect for his wife to do it in private.” My stepfather slams his fist into the palm of his hand.

“My son is a real man,” Mrs. Scott says through gritted teeth, causing her pale face to turn bright red.

“Your son is a damn fool,” Mama shouts.

The commotion goes on as my parents and his go back and forth across the table.

The entire time they argued, I sat in silence, trying to wrap my mind around tonight’s announcement. It’s as if my brain understands the definition of those four words, but it can’t compute what they mean all together.

Scanning the many faces around me, I take in everyone else’s reactions.

Andrew’s sister is going back and forth with him.

It seems this news completely shocked her.

I don’t doubt she didn’t know about it. She and I were actually good friends.

The few other faces at the table were mostly Andrew’s friends and their wives. They all seem to look uncomfortable.

The last person I look to is Mitchell Miller. Mitch is Andrew’s oldest and best friend. They’ve known each other since they were little boys. They grew up like brothers.

I watch as Mitch glares at Andrew. Those gray-blue eyes sparking with anger.

As if he could tell I was looking at him, he turned to me, and his eyes immediately softened.

That look of pity in his gaze is familiar.

It isn’t the first time he has looked at me like that.

Mitch has been around for all the difficulties of this marriage.

“Everyone quiet,” Andrew shouts, and the arguing immediately stopped.

He turns his gaze to me. “Ella, say something. Don’t just sit there.”

It’s just like him to demand I give him what he wants. He’s always felt like I owed him everything. Like I should be so grateful that he ever gave me the fucking time of day. Well, tonight I’m going to be selfish. Tonight, I will not relieve his guilt.

He wants me to get emotional, maybe even curse him out and make a scene. He could then justify this shitty announcement. No, I’m not giving him that.

Standing abruptly, I push my chair back, smooth down the front of my dress, and place my napkin on my plate before walking away.

“Ella. Ella.” Everyone calls out behind me, but I don’t stop.

“Real dick move, Andrew,” April, Andrew’s sister, shouts. “You could’ve waited to do this when you got home.”

I don’t hear his reply or what else is said, because I rush out of the secluded dining area.

Needing fresh air away from the fine dining restaurant I booked for this bullshit, I find solace outside. The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m storming out of the restaurant I made reservations for in order to set this night up for his ungrateful ass.

Staring up at the night sky, I run through the entire fifteen years of my marriage in my head, trying to find the exact moment where I could’ve warranted this. I did everything I thought a wife should do. I allowed him to lead, making his word law in our house, even when I didn’t always agree.

There wasn’t a single time when he wanted sex that I didn’t comply. I sucked and fucked him regularly. He was the only one allowed to turn down sex. I was the perfect example of a faithful and dutiful wife. And yet it still wasn’t enough.

His scent hits me before he even speaks. If they bottled-up hard-working man and sold it, this is what it would smell like. A little cedar mixed with a trace of leather and a dash of bergamot.

I knew he would come. He always comes after me.

“I don’t want to talk, Mitch.”

He steps up beside me. His towering six-foot-four height cast me in shadows.

“I didn’t say we needed to talk. I’m just here, El.” I smile at the nickname he gave me in high school.

“Did you know? Did he mention it to you?”

“No.” That simple word is spat out. “You know he and I have been at odds a lot lately. He doesn’t talk to me as much anymore.”

I knew that. They had a disagreement a few months ago. Neither would tell me what it was about. I’ve tried to fix things between them because Mitch is the godfather to our two boys. However, I've been unsuccessful.

“Fifteen years of marriage,” I huff fighting back the tears that try to break free. “I won’t lie and say that it was all perfect. Hell, we only got married because AJ came along. But I’ve tried to be a good wife. Maybe I wasn’t...”

“Don’t do that,” he scolds. “Don’t start dissecting yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

I take a deep breath and allow the silence to surround us. My mind is running in a million different directions.

Could I have prevented this? Did I do something wrong?

I’m not perfect. I can admit my flaws. My body never bounced back after my oldest son was born.

I have stretch marks in places a bathing suit won’t cover.

My breasts are no longer perky without the right bra.

My thighs rub the fabric out of jeans, and shopping for clothes is no longer something I enjoy.

I’m not a social butterfly like him. I don’t draw attention to myself the moment I walk into a room. Unlike him, I don't keep up with politics or discuss the financial crisis in our country. Is that why he wants a divorce now?

“You’re doing it, aren’t you?” Mitch’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.

I look over at him. He’s frowning, and those blue eyes are narrowed.

“Whenever he messes up, you find some kind of way to turn it onto yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

Turning away from his gaze, I focus on the cars out in the parking lot.

“You’re beautiful, funny, devoted, kind, and intelligent. You’re not to blame for this,” he goes on to say.

I appreciate what Mitch is trying to do, but I know the truth.

“What am I going to do? I’m a 37-year-old mother of two. What happens next?”

I look back at him. He shakes his head, his hands stuffed down in his front pockets. “You are so much more than those two things.”

I snort. “Yeah, I doubt the next guy is going to hang around long enough for me to explain that.”

I know I sound crazy. Dating should be the furthest thing from my mind. Andrew is the breadwinner of the household. Sure, I work, but my income is nowhere near Andrew’s salary. Plus, I’ll have to find another place. I can’t afford our house.

Although I have all this to worry about, I can’t help but think about how lonely I’ll be. I love being in love. I enjoy being in a relationship, and I’ve been in one since I was fifteen. The thought of being alone scares the shit out of me.

He laughs. “Any man who has eyes and common sense will know how much of a catch you are. I’ll bet within a year; you’ll be fighting off men with those delicious red velvet cupcakes of yours.”

At this, I laugh. Mitch has always had a way of making me laugh in the darkest of situations.

Tonight, my life has fallen apart. I know I have a long journey ahead of me to get it back on track. I can only hope that one day I’ll be happy again.