Chapter Four
Honor
I’m not sure how long I stare at the papers before a hand comes down on my back, startling me.
“Geez,” I breathe, staring wide-eyed at Mila as she rounds the kitchen island and slides into the stool across from me. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
She looks between me and the papers. “I called your name at least twice after knocking. You didn’t answer, and I was getting worried.
I used the spare key you keep under the gnome.
Which, by the way, is way too easy. Move it.
And I’m not talking under the mat or on the doorframe. That’s how people get axe murdered.”
I roll my eyes at her chiding. “This is Long Island. I don’t think we have any murderers.”
“Have you not heard of the Long Island Killer?” she doubts dubiously.
Okay, she has me there. “He’s been arrested, and I’m pretty sure he only killed prostitutes. I think I’m safe.”
She grabs a grape from my plate that I haven’t touched since getting the papers and pops one into her mouth. “You’re right. You don’t have enough sex to be mistaken for one.”
I snort. “Thanks, I guess.”
She gestures to what I’m holding. “What are those?”
Wetting my lips, I drop the paperwork onto the counter and swallow. “My divorce papers.”
My best friend offers me a sympathetic smile when I finally lift my head. “Are you okay?”
I’m glad she doesn’t pull out confetti and starts throwing it or clapping while cussing out Max’s name. I bet she wants to, but she knows how bittersweet this is for me.
“It was only a matter of time,” I reply quietly, staring down at the legal jargon printed on the sheet. “I knew it was coming. I didn’t think I’d feel so…sad.”
My relationship was over a long time ago, but it isn’t easy throwing away a decade with somebody. If you hadn’t lied, it wouldn’t have been so long, the voice of reason reminds me.
If I’d been honest with myself, I could have walked away sooner.
But it wouldn’t have changed the hurt. The confusion.
The regrowth that it would require to stand on my own two feet.
Not that I’m doing a particularly great job at that now, since I’m residing in my father’s guest house with no job, no car, and limited skillsets.
“Of course you’re sad,” Mila answers warmly, reaching out for my hand. “He may have been an asshole toward the end, but you loved him. Anybody in your position would feel the same way you do right now.”
Loved. That may be the saddest word ever used in the past tense.
“He posted a picture of his new girlfriend online,” I tell her, a sour taste forming on my tongue.
I’d blocked him for a while on every social media platform, then unblocked him out of curiosity.
It was a poor decision, since the very first thing I saw was his updated profile picture kissing a brunette girl who was a hell of a lot slimmer than me.
“I suspected he was talking to someone toward the end, but I didn’t have the heart to ask. ”
God, how pathetic is that? I willingly turned a blind eye because of denial. I let him emotionally cheat on me; let him get away with whatever he wanted to save face. To save my marriage. To not be like my mother, who went from man to man to man without ever settling down.
But was I any better than Max? I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t turned down Bodhi’s flirtations or touches during a point in our marriage when I didn’t know if I could do it anymore. I’d wanted somebody else. More than that, I wanted somebody else—somebody other than my husband—to want me back.
Scraping a hand down my face, I groan into my palm.
“Seeing him smile in that photo…” My voice drops as I close my eyes.
Max and I were happy at some point, weren’t we?
“I don’t remember the last time he looked that happy with me, Mila.
It was probably when his game launched, and he saw the sale numbers. He gave me the biggest hug.”
Her grip on my hand tightens. “Hey. Don’t do that.
Don’t put all the blame on yourself. It takes two to make a relationship work, Honor.
He could have tried harder. He could have been more understanding of your health and a lot less selfish when it came to his career.
You needed someone to be there for you the way you were for him, and he wasn’t. That’s on him.”
Logically, I know she’s right. Max used to be way more attentive with me.
He would cook my favorite dishes, buy me my favorite chocolate, and watch sappy romance movies with me even though he hated them.
But as my health started declining, and my weight started increasing, things…
changed. He’d become busier with work and at home less.
I’d do my own cooking and leave leftovers only for him to come home and say he ate out with his friends or coworkers.
He’d stay late at the bar to watch whatever game was on. There was always an excuse.
Deep down, I think I knew he wasn’t as attracted to me anymore.
His eyes wouldn’t roam over me with lust like they used to, but something else.
Disappointment? Hesitation? I couldn’t be sure exactly.
He’d never told me outright that he wasn’t into me, it was an unspoken truth that lingered between us as the intimacy died out.
For Christmas one year, he got us both a gym membership so we could go together. But whenever he’d drag me along, the thirty minutes walking on the treadmill was never enough for him. He’d act like my personal trainer rather than my husband.
Ten more minutes.
Five more reps.
You’re giving up too easily.
Ironic, if you think about it.
Because he gave up too easily on us.
Mila is right, though. None of that is okay. If he truly understood the daily battle my body went through, maybe it would have been different. We could have tried therapy—tried to make it work.
Or maybe we were a Taylor Swift song waiting to happen. We were a balled up piece of paper that would never be perfect again no matter how much we tried fooling ourselves into believing it.
My best friend takes the papers and sets them on a different counter to regain my attention.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but those are your new beginning.
Once you sign your name on the line and get those bitches sent back to the lawyer, you can officially move forward.
No more dwelling on the past or Max Decker. It’s all up from here, babes.”
Nibbling the inside of my cheek, I sit straighter and blow out a breath.
“I know. I just wish I knew what life had in store for me from here. I hate the unknown. I’m too much of a control freak for that.
” Mila frowns, but before she can give me any words of wisdom, I say, “My job application got rejected at two different companies, so I’m still unemployed.
And I don’t have my driver’s license back thanks to the regulations set by New York DMV that says I have to be seizure free for at least one year before I can legally drive again, so that rules out moving for a job I can’t commute to. ”
As much as I understand the rules, that doesn’t make them suck any less.
My freedom has been taken from me in every way, shape, and form.
Being back in the city means having plenty of transportation options, so it’s the one place I don’t have to worry about getting places.
The problem with the city is that the high demand for employment makes every field competitive.
The two jobs I actually wanted turned me away almost instantly, leaving me back to square one.
Mila perks up. “You could always work at the restaurant. My parents would hire you in a heartbeat and it’s close to the subway.”
As sweet as the offer is, we both know that wouldn’t work out. “I’d be a horrible waitress, and I’m pretty sure people would be weirded out if there was an animal walking in and out of the kitchen, whether it was a service dog or not.”
Mila hums thoughtfully. “My mom mentioned trying to do more social media work to gain more traction for their business. Maybe we could talk to her about a position for online marketing or something. That way you could do it from wherever. There’s a bedroom free in the apartment above the restaurant too. ”
“Don’t you and GiGi live there?” I love Mila, but I don’t need to hear her having sex. She likes to talk about how vocal her girlfriend is during it.
“Yeah, but it’ll be like old times! Remember when we swore we’d live together one day and rule the city.”
I do remember that. “That was when we were young and na?ve and thought fifty dollars was a lot of money. And while I appreciate the offer, I don’t think moving to Brooklyn is a good idea. If I wanted to do that, I’d go back to the condo.”
I haven’t been to my mother’s place in a long time.
It’s not a far walk from Mila’s Bistro, but it brings back one too many bad memories growing up.
Times of drunken parties and strangers coming in and out of the front door.
Or that time I locked myself in my closet when a weird man with a scabby face stumbled into my room and passed out on my bed.
Going back there is a big no go, even if it means a free place to stay closer to more opportunities.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, although I think we both know I’ve already made up my mind. “In the meantime, I just need to do more research on what’s out there for work.”
“Have you looked into photography gigs?”
I frown, playing with the fruit on my plate. “No. I haven’t touched my camera in years.”
Anger pulls at her lips when I peek upward at her silence. “That’s because Max encouraged you not to go through with your studio. But maybe you could start one here. Your pictures are beautiful, H. You’d have an audience.”
I shake my head. “It’s too saturated here. New York City is the land of starving artists. I wouldn’t make nearly as much money as I could have in Illinois.”