10. Liv #2
I gave up on staying calm and surrendered to the pervasive sense of exasperation that simmered beneath the surface whenever I was faced with Gray’s you’re-making-a-big-deal-out-of-nothing attitude...
an attitude that extended from homework Chloe hadn’t gotten done in time to the string of women he’d screwed in our bed when I was at work, earning the money that made it possible for him to live in the style to which his mistresses had become accustomed.
I’d bought him the house on the river with money from my trust, so Chloe would have a safe place to stay when she was with him, and I didn’t regret it.
But God, it drove me crazy that he was still living on my dime.
I got to my knees and flung another log on the fire. Inside the blue-tiled fireplace, the wood crackled and spat in a perfect echo of my mood. “I need you to take this seriously, you bastard.”
“Still angry at me, I see.” Gray sighed. “Are you ever not angry at me?”
“Lately, no. And you can spin this any way you like, but the fact remains that your behavior is deplorable and not in Chloe’s best interest.”
He chuckled. “Are you sure you’re a therapist and not a lawyer, Olivia? Not that you need the money, but you’d rock at it. You did a great job laying out your case when you asked me for the divorce.”
Oh, he did not just go there. “You made it easy for me, Gray. First there was Tiffany. And then there was Crystal. Or was Jennifer What’s-Her-Name next?” I snorted. “It’s hard for me to recall. There’s been so many.”
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Maybe I just wanted a wife who needed me. Who gave a shit how I spent my time and didn’t spend every free minute prioritizing other people’s screwed-up families rather than our own.”
I wished I could reach through the phone and strangle him.
How was it possible that we weren’t together anymore, and yet we were having this argument again?
“I have a job, Gray. Sue me if I want to make a difference in the world. But I never once put our family second. How dare you say such a thing?”
Rage made my voice shake. These were the same accusations he’d hurled at me when we were married: that I was never around, that he had to do everything on his own…
by which he meant that he had to watch Chloe on the occasional evening or weekend when I shifted my schedule to accommodate my clients.
I’d tried doing all the grocery shopping, pre-making meals, laying out Chloe’s PJs, everything I could think of to make his life easier, but it had made no difference.
The moment he was the slightest bit inconvenienced, he’d complained bitterly about how my job mattered more to me than anything else.
“You didn’t have to work, Olivia! You could have been with us all the time.” He sighed, as if my selfishness and obtuseness were too much to bear. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
How he had somehow managed to make his neglect of our child about him was beyond me. “Get real, Gray. You wanted someone who would idolize you. Someone who would see your pipe dreams as romantic rather than rootless and a poor excuse for fatherhood.”
“Come on, Olivia. That’s not fair.” He had the audacity to sound wounded.
“Oh, really? I have Chloe all week long, almost every week. You get her for three nights, and you put some random woman named after the moon first? I bet that’s not even her real name.
” My head started to pound, and I massaged my temples, trying to drive the Gray-induced ache away.
“Yet somehow I’m the one whose priorities are screwed up. Explain that one to me.”
Gray heaved another sigh, this one even more exasperated than the last. “You took my daughter from me. You ended our marriage. And you’re the one who’s always going on about honesty.
” He spat it like it was a dirty word. “What kind of example would I be setting for Chloe if I tossed the women I’m seeing aside the second she came around? ”
I rubbed my head, determined not to get sucked into his gaslighting vortex.
When we were married, nothing had worked when it came to communicating with Gray.
Not talking calmly, not yelling, not emailing him articles about healthy relationships or leaving books where he might actually read them, like the bathroom.
If I tried to get him to discuss what we each wanted from the relationship, he accused me of “speaking therapy-eze.” If I screamed, he said I was hysterical.
If I broke down and cried, he insisted I was trying to manipulate him.
Somehow, everything was always my fault. And clearly, nothing had changed.
“Maybe you’re jealous, Olivia.” His voice was soft now, pitying.
“I’m not trying to be cruel, but what’s that saying?
For every finger you point, there are three fingers pointing back at you?
I’m living a beautiful life, and there you are, still under your parents’ thumb, trotting off to work for the man every day, making the same predictable choices. ”
“I work at a woman-owned practice!” I retorted, but as usual, he wasn’t listening.
“It’s good for Chloe to be around Luna,” he said, patronizing and sugar-sweet. “She’s a creative soul and free spirit. Quite frankly, I think it’s healthy for our daughter to have that kind of feminine example.”
The demise of our marriage was one thing. But insinuating some crackpot he’d probably met while tripping at Burning Man was better suited to parent our daughter? That was a step too far.
“For the love of everything holy, stop talking, Gray. I have three words of advice for you, and for once, I want you to listen.” I paused for full effect. “Fix. This. Now.”
I disconnected the call and leaned back against the armchair, wishing I’d been on a land line so I could have slammed the receiver down.
It rang again immediately. Once, twice, then a third time. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed for it without looking. “Seriously, Gray? Was there something we left unsaid?”
There was silence. And then Theo’s voice, as drop-dead sexy as I remembered it. “Did I call at a bad time?”
My heart stuttered, then started pounding. I hadn’t expected him to call after the way we’d left things. And I certainly hadn’t intended to call him.
My rage at Gray drained away, replaced with a bewildering cocktail of emotions. Struggling to keep my voice level, I told him, “Not exactly. Hold on.”
Checking to make sure Chloe’s door was closed, I grabbed a blanket, went out to the deck, and settled onto the chaise. “I’m confused, Theo,” I said, craning my head to look at the stars. “I thought you said we had nothing to say to each other.”
“I did say that.” He cleared his throat. “I handled this morning all wrong. It was a shock for both of us. But I was rude and I’m sorry.”
I was quiet for a moment, letting his apology sink in. It was refreshing to talk to a man who could apologize, rather than one who blamed everything on me. “Accepted,” I said at last. “You’re carrying around a lot of baggage from your childhood. I understand that.”
“Yeah, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you. I’m pretty level-headed normally. Ask anyone.”
“I would,” I said, rubbing my temples, “if we knew any of the same people and I hadn’t just met you last night.”
He gave a genuine, full-throated laugh. “Fair point. The thing is, even though I’m sure it’s a terrible idea, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s a problem. Hence this phone call.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it, replaying his words. Not ten minutes ago, Gray had accused me of being boring and predictable. Now Theo was acting like I was some kind of irresistible siren. Maybe this was proof that the multiverse was real.
“Say something,” he said, and it sounded like a plea.
How had we gotten here—from doing the deed on his piano to intimate personal revelations and bitter arguments, then back again?
I wanted to ask him if he’d been drinking, but he’d just apologized, then given me a much-needed self-esteem boost. I settled for, “First of all, that doesn’t sound particularly level-headed.
And second of all, it’s just sex, Theo.”
“Sure,” he said in that throaty rasp of his. “Doesn’t change that I want you.”
Goosebumps rippled up my arms. If I put this morning’s disaster aside and just focused on the physical—yeah, I wanted him, too. But he was right. It was a terrible idea. The worst.
“Talk to me, Liv,” he coaxed. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me too. Or...not, and I’ll quit making an ass of myself.”
The wind blew through the hundred-year-old oaks that bordered my backyard, its cool touch soothing my fevered skin.
I tipped my face up to it, as if the breeze could carry my words away.
“Even if I had been, what would be the point of talking about it?” I did my best to sound businesslike, and not like I was envisioning him on the chaise next to me, his body warming mine in place of the blanket. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”
It was his turn to be silent. At last he said, “I guess not. But I’m not accustomed to having problems I can’t solve. Which makes me exceptionally motivated to do something about this one.”
“I’m a problem?”
“No. The fact that I can’t stop thinking about you is the problem, given the unique obstacles we’ve encountered during the short tenure of our relationship thus far.”
Now I did start to laugh. “You make it sound like a business merger gone wrong. We don’t have a relationship.
Unless you count having awesome sex four times, discovering a feud between our families, and having one of us stomp out of the other’s house.
If that’s your definition of a relationship, then, sure. ”
He gave a deep chuckle. “Awesome sex, huh?”
“Do you disagree?”
“Not in the least.” His voice took on an edge that had me shifting on the cushions of the chaise. “Just glad to hear we’re on the same page.”