Chapter 2
LUC
Skylar and I lived in Seattle for the last few years of our marriage, and the divorce papers were initially filed there before I moved to Boston.
Since we filed, Skylar had moved back to Los Angeles.
Being in Washington had brought back more than a few memories, but it didn’t make me regret my decision.
When the judge heard our case, the settlement had long ago been hashed out, finances were already split, assets decided, and all the drama was over. Our home sold, we split the proceeds, and we were left with no other proof we were ever connected. Except for the photos on the internet.
Even though we were both ready to move on at the end, I still felt as if it was my fault. But in the end, we couldn’t pivot when things didn’t magically fall into place. There were indeed things that money couldn’t buy.
Spring training and the season’s early months were when I cemented my decision to make Boston and the Minutemen Organization my new home. The offer came at the right time, and while I’d never spent much time on the East Coast before now, it already felt like home.
When I slid into my first-class seat, I watched a mother with an infant struggle to board the plane. She was alone and headed to the coach section. Damn, the last place I would want to be with an infant was in coach.
“Excuse me, would you like to switch seats?”
I hoped my face didn’t show what I thought of flying in coach.
Relief quickly replaced her shocked expression as she nodded, and her eyes welled up with tears. She thanked me repeatedly as I picked up my carry-on and moved toward the middle of the plane. At least she had a window seat, I thought as I folded my long legs into the cramped space.
Oh wow.
When a stunning redhead excused herself for the second time, while the woman in the aisle seat ignored her, she had my full attention.
God, she was beautiful. And way too fucking young for you, Luc.
When she took her seat, our neighbor had encroached on her middle seat, and she had nowhere to go except towards me.
We bumped heads as we bent down. Her eyes were not brown, not yellow, but with a depth of golden flecks I could fucking drown in. Was I noticing her because she was the first attractive woman I had been near since the divorce?
And then she spoke and had no problem giving me shit for destroying the integrity of my book. I stifled a laugh at the obscene phrase on her bookmark and enjoyed watching as she offered a puke bag as a better option.
I took her number and planned to text her that night.
When we said goodbye, she rushed off the plane ahead of me, and I let her go, fully intending to see her again.
After I deplaned and walked through the airport, I got one more glimpse of her as she met up with a woman I assumed was her sister.
I cracked up watching her relative , who had picked her up with a tiny infant in a baby carrier, greet her at the airport, holding a huge sign saying the baby was hers.
Life looked good post-divorce, even better now that this woman lived in my city.