37. Shannon
CHAPTER 37
SHANNON
Bringing Russ’s jersey home feels like both the worst thing I have ever done, and the best kind of wild rebellion against the gaslighting and bullshit of my marriage.
But it’s not like expect Max to be home that afternoon. So when I pull into the garage, and his car is there, I know I can’t very well carry the jersey upstairs without making everything worse.
And the fact that I have it is special. I want to keep that my little secret.
I roll it into a tight ball and put it in my workout bag, grateful that I went to early morning Pilates today before going to the convention centre.
Inside, I hear Max in the kitchen.
Lauren’s warning that I should maintain a normal relationship as much as possible while she investigates my options for divorce rings in my ears.
“Hi,” I say calmly.
He looks up from a prepared salad from the fridge. “Hey.”
I get myself a salad, too, and he hands me the vinaigrette I like. It's a familiar routine, but hollowed out, like we’re just going through the motions of being married.
The first bite tastes like cardboard, and it doesn’t go down easy.
I can’t do this. Sorry, Lauren.
“There was a photo shoot for the Highlanders Ball.”
“I couldn’t do it. I told someone.”
“Okay. It worked out.”
“Yeah, I heard Russ showed up.” He takes a big, wolfish bite of salad.
“He did.”
“Must have been cozy.”
“I wasn’t in the photo.”
“We couldn’t have that. People might get the idea that he’s stealing my wife.”
I don’t rise to the bait.
“Maybe we need to do some of that couples counselling Haler’s doing to make his wife happy.”
I don’t like the way Max says that.
And I really don’t want to go to therapy with him.
I don’t trust you enough to do that , I want to say. Instead I just shake my head.
“No.” He shoves his bowl away. “No, my wife doesn’t want to fix our marriage.”
“What do you think therapy would that accomplish?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that.
“I wanted to repair whatever is broken between us for a long time.”
“You,” he snaps. “You are what is broken between us.”
I gasp. “Excuse me? I’m not the one fucking someone else right now. You want to try counselling? That will be the first thing I bring up, you asshole .”
“You still have a higher number than I ever will,” he sneers.
Like a fucking child.
“I tried for a long time,” I whisper, shaking with fury now.
But I’m done trying.
“So what’s your plan?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You think you get to stay here in the house I pay for?”
This is exactly what Lauren warned me about. “Who are you? Do you think you can threaten me?”
“I’m your husband, and you don't fucking act like you know that.”
His arrogance is incredible. But now that the truth is spilling out, I refuse to back down. “I know exactly who you are. You are a coward. You are weak and you need me, and you’re mad that I’m removing myself from being in service to you. My husband? Try master . That’s what you wanted to be to me. No fucking thank you. I wanted to be your partner.”
He goes very still. “Is that what you think?”
I try to soften my voice, because I’m probably never going to have another chance to say any of this. “I am grateful to you for the life that we have shared. But as I told you that night, I want out of our marriage. I cannot be with you anymore. And you’re trying to villainize me for that, when I’ve never done anything but try to help you. Even as our relationship has imploded, I’ve saved you. I haven’t heard anything more about Francois’ Ice League! I saved you from something embarrassing, because that’s what a good wife does. And that will forever be our secret. I keep all of your secrets even though I don't love you anymore.”
He stares at me, his eyes getting hard and cold. Deep down, Max is a liar and he does not live in honesty. It’s probably asking too much for him to listen to my truth.
“I assume you know how to take yourself off of the WAG group chat.” His words are intentionally sharp, and slice deep with precision.
“Max. I want to do this in a civil way and?—”
“The most civil for me would be you removing yourself from my life as soon as fucking possible. You have outlasted your usefulness. And since you don’t want to go to counselling, let me take this opportunity to remind you of the contractual limits of our prenup. Also, it’s my understanding that we need to be separated for a year here in Canada before you can apply for divorce. So I suggest, wife , that you start looking for a job. It might be a challenge, given that the only experience you have is on your back, but?—”
I’ve taken a swing at his face before I realize it. My palm connects with his cheek at the same moment his hand comes up and grips my wrist.
He doesn’t move.
His gaze glitters. “But there is another option. If you would be willing to reconsider helping with Dumas.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“I thought?—”
“You thought wrong. Ice League is going to happen, and I want to be a part of it.”
“There’s a third option,” I say desperately. I yank my wrist out of his grasp. “Guam. With the right amount of money, a divorce can be granted there in seven days.”
“You’ve looked into it, then?”
Fuck.
That glittering gaze turns dangerous. “No, Shannon. I don’t want a quick divorce from you without getting something in return.”
I can’t breathe.
“Meet with Francois. Help close the deal on me headlining the league.” Max shrugs. “And then you can have your quickie Guam divorce that will free you to be with your stupid Scottish crush.”
“You can’t believe for a second that I would just want out because you’re a horrible husband, can you?”
“No.”
Desperation claws at my insides. “How do I know you’ll honour this agreement?”
“If you have enough influence with Dumas to have him extend an offer to my agent, you’ll be able to persuade him to rescind it if I don’t keep up my end of the bargain.”
I hate how he says influence and persuade. He makes them sound X-rated.
But the worst part is that I know he’s right. That is exactly the power I hold here in this moment.
I lick my lips. “I’m not moving out of this house until the divorce is finalized. And if you change the locks while I’m in New York, all bets are off.”
“I’ll book you a room at the Ritz.”
My stomach turns at the thought of Max acting like my pimp in this transaction. “I’ll book my own accommodation.”
Francois always preferred The Lyle Hotel on the Upper East Side, anyway. More discreet, more luxurious. Better soundproofing.
For a moment, I consider saying that. Using my own scalpel to try and wound Max the way he wounds me. But you can’t hurt someone like Max. You can only try to hold on, survive, and get out by whatever means necessary.
Which means I also can’t beg him not to tell anyone about this.
Fingers shaking, I take out my phone. I can feel him smirking as he watches me book a flight for tonight. And a hotel for three nights, at least to start.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and Francois won’t even be in New York this week, and I’ll have a final shopping trip on Max’s dime.
But deep down, I know I’ll stay in the city until the billionaire can see me. I’ll fly anywhere in the world to have an audience with the man who holds the key to free me from this marriage.
It’s late by the time I get to the hotel. I haven't been back to New York since we moved.
Max wouldn't have been comfortable with me visiting without him, and then our summer was just really busy. I meant to come back, but it just didn't happen.
And now, as I take a town car into the city, I feel like I've come home.
At the same time, I’m not exactly eager to move back. For one thing, I don't think I'm going to be able to afford the rent. And there are already way too many reminders of my marriage here.
But if I dig deeper than those years, New York is also where I discovered myself.
And then, unfortunately, lost myself for a period of time.
So coming back is a reminder of those coming-of-age experiences that I had, and I have a lot of nostalgia for that time in my life now that I’m safely past it. Plus, the shopping is unparalleled.
Maybe I stayed away for a whole year because I worried that I would miss it. And while it is good to be back, I realize that I didn’t miss it, and I won’t miss it when I leave again, because I know it’ll always be here for me to return to whenever I need another reminder of how far I’ve come.
It’s your turn now, my queen.
But on the other side of this trip, I'm hoping that I will have some time to make somewhere else my new home.
Lauren warned me that when the divorce is finalized, I will have to leave Canada pretty quickly to “exit” off my spousal visa. And then I’ll be able to come and go like any other American visitor, but that’s all I will be. I won’t be able to live forever in Hamilton as a hockey player’s ex-wife.
I try not to think about what that means for a fledgling relationship with Russ.
But he travels enough that it shouldn’t matter where I live. Lauren lives on the other side of the country from Andrew, for example.
I ignore the wave of grief that rolls through me at the thought of being forced away from my new home just as I was putting down roots.
One thing at a time, Shannon. First, you need out of your marriage.
Even though it’s been years, the hotel’s detailed guest notes means they act like they remember me and I get upgraded to a suite when I check in.
“Right this way, Ms. Barker.”
I smile at the use of my maiden name, which I used to make the reservation because it’s what I had the account for this hotel chain under. That sounds good.
The concierge shows me to my room personally, and asks me if I need anything.
“Not tonight,” I say, already thinking about a shower and bed. A decade ago, I’d be just getting started for a night of being seen at clubs.
There’s only one person who needs to see me this trip. And I’ve put off contacting him long enough.
Since my phone number has changed, I go with an email from my rarely used old account to his private address because I’m hoping he still checks that constantly.
From: Shannon Barker
To: Francois Dumas
Subject: I’m in NYC for a few days and I’d love to catch up
Francois,
It’s been a long time. But I’ve been watching your Ice League news with great interest. Do you have time for a drink? I’m in the city for at least three days. And if you’re somewhere else in the world, just let me know where. Your girl is overdue for a vacation.
Shannon
P.S. If texting is easier, this is my current number: 742-555-0081 and I’m on WhatsApp with that