Chapter 15 #2
“Well, in that case, I should have bought two.” I grinned. Watching uptight, rude Val Russo sitting on his office floor—arguing about junk food of all things—was beyond comical. “You know, you’re a pretty funny guy for someone so awful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself—when you’re not annoying the living daylights out of me.”
“So, what are we, friends now?” I laughed.
“You wish.” Val dodged the chip I threw at him.
“Shut up, Russo.”
I shook my head with a chuckle. Chewing a barbecue flavored chip, I reflected over the day’s events and how they transpired to this.
The run-in with Vanessa in the park had provided Val with plenty of ammunition, only to result in a ceasefire. Instead, he had shown kindness. Empathy, even.
“So… Will you tell me about Ryan?” Val asked quietly.
The sickening twist in my gut never failed to accompany the mention of my ex-husband. Val seemed to avoid my gaze at all costs, practically shoving his nose inside his chip bag.
It is only fair.
I still felt honored that he had trusted me enough to share about Stella. Procrastinating, I took a long swig of Diet Coke and sighed. “What do you want to know?”
Val glanced up. “How long were you married?”
I set my soda on the carpeted floor and rubbed my temple. “A little over ten years.”
“I’m guessing that Vanessa and Ryan…” Val trailed off grimly.
I pressed my lips into a hard line. “Yup.” I emphasized the “p” with a pop. “Pretty much.” The heat in my cheeks probably looked like a tomato.
The vague insinuation of Ryan’s affair was enough for Val to understand. He clamped his jaw shut the same way he’d done with Stirling, seemed to swallow what he truly wanted to say.
For the first time, I wished he hadn’t.
Val softened as his eyes greeted mine. “His loss.”
My stomach hit a pothole.
“Really, Amantha.” He waited until he caught my tentative gaze, as if trying to convey his seriousness. “Riley sounds like a butthead.”
A small laugh that sounded more like a hiccup escaped me. “What are you, in eighth grade? Did you seriously just use the word ‘butthead’?”
“Yes, I did.” Val relaxed against the window with a solemn expression. “You see, I only use it in case of emergencies such as this.”
I laughed. “You’re an idiot. And his name is Ryan, by the way.”
Val smirked. “I know.”
Dang it, Russo. You’re making it so hard for me to hate you.
“How long have you been divorced?”
It was getting easier to talk about now. “We’ve been separated for almost two years. But the divorce was finalized in April.”
“Listen, Amantha”—he blew out a long breath—“I owe you an apology too. I was a jerk when we first met. And most of the days after that.” His sheepish smile was framed by his blushing cheeks.
“And that day I sat beside you on the plane… Well, it wasn’t my finest moment either.
I really am sorry, Amantha. For the record, what Ryan did to you wasn’t okay.
He sounds like a coward, and I’m sorry you went through that. Well, you and Anthony, I suppose.”
My heart climbed a tall ladder and did a spectacularly twisting high dive. Never would I have expected such soft, kind words to come from Val Russo. It took a few moments to be able to respond.
“Thanks Val. That means more than you know.”
“Is Anthony taking it okay now? The divorce?”
Val’s concern for my child washed over me like warm water.
“Kinda. It was hard for us at first. I—I was really messed up at the time, and I hate that Anthony watched me go through that.” I fiddled with my soda bottle.
“But he seems to be handling everything better now. Anthony really loves Ryan, and I am glad the two of them are working things out at least.”
“Sounds like you raised a strong kid.”
I melted.
“Since then, have you… Uh, have you dated?”
The awkward question surprised me. I blushed furiously, shaking my head. “No. I mean, it wasn’t until recently that I even… I don’t know. Considered? Maybe that’s not the right word—”
Val cleared his throat into his bag of potato chips. “That makes sense. I’ve not… I mean, I haven’t either. Not since Stella.”
Silence crowded around us, thick with questions and unspoken words. I watched a muscle feather in his jaw, craving the ability to read his mind.
“I just couldn’t see the point after Stel,” Val suddenly continued, his sad smile tugging at my heart. “Like, how’s a guy supposed to move on after someone like her, you know?”
I nodded quietly, offering the ear I sensed he desperately needed.
“Even through the chemotherapy, Stella was so optimistic.” Val shook his head in disbelief. “Nothing like me. She beat the odds though. Her remission lasted for three years until…” Val couldn’t say it.
I didn’t try to hide my misty eyes. “She had cancer?”
Val nodded at the floor. “Uterine cancer. The doctors found it after we miscarried. Even then, Stel was sure we’d eventually have a kid.” He looked up and forced a small laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I didn’t mean to—” He gestured to my tear-filled eyes.
“Oh, this?” I swiped my cheeks and sat up straighter. “These are just allergies.”
A soft laugh rolled over his lips, appreciation stamped across his face. “Allergies? And what are you suddenly allergic to, Adams?”
“Uh… Super clean offices. We should get out of here and go work at my desk instead.”
“No way. I’ve seen your desk. It’s like a bomb went off.”
A laugh forced its way through the lump in my throat. “You’re the worst.”
A calm, sweet silence settled over us both.
The atmosphere felt lighter, as if sharing our burdens somehow had provided more oxygen. Breathing felt easier than it had in a long time. Based on the relaxed curve of Val’s shoulders against the window, Val likely felt the same.
But after a minute or two, his shy smile faded as his dark eyebrows creased together.
“Oh my gosh. I’m an idiot.” He stood and rushed to his computer.
I sat confused, watching him from the floor.
“I forgot to use the older database,” he explained. “We updated the software to our new system a couple years ago. The acquisition of Attersee was way before the new software.” An image began to load of a scanned document.
I raced over. Peering down at the screen, I recognized it as an accession form template. My sight rested on two lines of print at the bottom.
One of them was typed. One of them was signed.
Listed Curator: Blythe Barlow
Management Approval:
Kendra Steele.