Now #3
Before I can blurt out the reason I’m here, throw the envelope at him, and return to the elevator, the treacherous thing closes and lowers to resume its work. I’m officially stuck with Jackson, which was definitely not part of my plan.
I didn’t really think about how this would go, but I’m fairly certain it’s worse than I imagined. In my mind, I’d see him, explain myself, hand him the papers, and leave. None of this extra fuss was supposed to happen.
But maybe I’m overthinking all this, because he pays me no mind and walks up to a cart of alcohol someone set up in the living room. As he pours himself a drink, I observe him with quiet interest.
He’s wearing all black, like the first time I saw him.
It was always his color of choice, so that hasn’t changed.
But unlike years ago when he mostly wore hoodies and sweatpants, this version of him is lush, sophisticated.
I’m sure the dress shirt, which is unbuttoned at the top and rolled up over his tatted forearms, costs more than my car’s monthly payment.
The shoes, probably three times that. And I don’t even want to think about the watch on his wrist. Though maybe he didn’t pay for that, since the brand is one of his many sponsors.
Still incredibly uncomfortable, I shift from one foot to the other while he downs the amber liquor he poured himself. Then, for the first time since he’s known I’m here, he looks at me. Really looks at me.
As I did myself moments before, he takes me in, from toes to head, then back down again.
I haven’t changed much. I don’t think I have, at least. Maybe I’m a little slimmer.
My face probably lost its youthful fullness, just like his did.
But overall, I’d say I’m the same I was when he last saw me, over seven years ago.
“How—how have you been?” I force myself to ask, breaking the silence. I should probably approach, but I feel safer like this, far from his heady scent.
He looks around at the expensive decor with unmasked cockiness. “Good. You?”
“I’ve been doing great. I work at a firm in Canon City.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Really? From who?”
“My mom. She found you on their website.”
“Oh …” From what I know, she lives all the way in Denver, so it’s unlikely she found me by accident. Has she been keeping tabs on me this whole time?
Just like that, the room falls silent again. Ugh, why is this so hard?
I’m trying to find the words when he pulls out a silver casing from his back pocket to take out a cigarette from it, which he places between his lips with seasoned gestures.
Then he brings up a slim silver lighter and lights it with a flick of his thumb.
He takes a long drag, his attention back on me, and blows the smoke out through his nose, slowly enough for it to form twirls in the air.
My heart aches a little knowing he’s smoking again. That, I didn’t know. I’m not sure anyone knows, really. It’s not a good look for an athlete of his caliber.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here,” I say.
“I don’t give a shit. Nor does the hotel, really. Not when they’re fully booked thanks to me.”
Good to see his cockiness hasn’t changed one bit …
After another drag of smoke, his unique eyes focus on me, questioning, intrigued. “Why are you here, Evangeline?”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months.”
“I know.”
His admission throws a wrench into my well-practiced speech. I thought he’d at least pretend he was too busy to notice, or that the emails were getting lost in his intense schedule. But no, he knew, and he purposefully ignored my many attempts at getting this sorted.
Anger slowly rises in me, replacing the uneasiness I’ve been feeling since I hit the road earlier today. I can’t believe I’ve had to drive all the way here when it could have been avoided.
I can’t help but sound irritated when I ask, “Then why haven’t you answered?!”
Something dark and dangerous passes before his eyes, so threatening that if the elevator wasn’t right behind me, I’d take a step back.
Especially when he takes one forward, then another, and another, until he’s less than a foot away from me.
Overwhelmed by his closeness, I move back, which makes things even worse by trapping me between him and the steel panels.
He’s always been taller than I am, but I forgot how he towers over me like this when he’s so close.
His breath smells of smoke and whiskey, which brings back memories of our younger selves I’d rather not have at the moment. He’d stopped smoking soon after we got together, but the scent is etched into my mind like a core memory. I’ve forced myself not to think of it for years.
“I haven’t answered,” he gravely starts, bringing me back to the moment, “because I didn’t like the way you went at it, Evie. I found it very cowardly, and I knew you could do better than that.”
His face comes closer, and my legs grow weak at the proximity. “I haven’t answered because if you want a divorce, the least you could fucking do is ask in person.”