by S. Layne
He’s done exactly what I needed.
I’m not thinking about anything except Liam and his body and what else he’s going to do to mine.
I reach out and shake my new lawyer’s hand. He’s at least twenty years my senior, face lined with wrinkles, and desperately needs someone who cares about him to tell him gray-haired comb-overs are not attractive. Ever.
Yet he’s been nice and kind, walking me through Michigan’s divorce process. Since the only thing James and I own together is our house and the belongings in it, he had his assistant draft up the marriage dissolution papers while we sat and discussed my case.
My blood runs cold in my veins when he returns my handshake.
I’m actually doing this.
“Thank you again for meeting me so quickly,” I say to Mr. Hampshire.
His eyes are sad when he shakes my hand. “We’ll get you through this as seamlessly as possible.” He pauses and nods toward the papers in my other hand. They’re tucked inside a manila envelope, and while he offered to mail them to James for me, I opted to hand-deliver them. I feel like I need to look James in the eye one last time. “If you change your mind, drop those off at my assistant’s desk and we’ll get them couriered to Mr. Baker’s office as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” I drop my hand from his and adjust my purse. “I’ve got it handled, though.”
“Okay.” He nods and looks away from me for just a moment. “I’ve been doing this for almost thirty years and I want you to know it’s never easy. It still makes my heart hurt to see such a young couple already at the end of their marriage.” He pulls back and presses his hands into the pockets of his tweed pants. He reminds me of my grandpa, and I have to fight the urge to smile. “Are you sure this can’t be worked out? Counseling can be beneficial in situations like this.”
My lips press together. I know he’s being kind. Mr. Hampshire has been nothing but generous and professional since I’ve stepped through his doors. The kindness in his eyes is easy to see. I haven’t told my parents yet what’s happening between me and James, but I know I won’t see this type of understanding when I do.
It makes me want to throw my arms around him and let him comfort me.
I refrain. Barely.
“I’ll keep that in consideration,” I tell him and turn to leave his office.
He doesn’t say anything while I go, except to remind me that I have his card if I have questions, and I wave goodbye toward his assistant—a woman who’s also been his wife for thirty years. She sends me a similar sad smile and continues her conversation on the phone while I walk through the doors of their small office.
I chose to use an attorney in Grand Rapids so word wouldn’t spread through the gossip mill in Denton. Looking at my phone and seeing the time, I almost regret the decision to make an appointment during my lunch hour. I’m running late and I still have the papers, which are beginning to burn my hand.
As I slide into my car, my thumbs tap the steering wheel before I decide to call my office.
“Liam Parker’s office, this is Sheila,” she says into the phone when she answers.
I exhale a calming breath, thankful that if Sheila answered Liam’s phone, he’s still gone as well.
“Hey, Sheila, it’s Laurie.”
“Oh hey, are you almost back?”
I glance at the clock on my dashboard. “Um. No. Listen, something came up after my appointment, can you let Liam know I’m going to be gone longer than I originally expected?”
“Oh, sure,” she sings. “I’ll let him know as soon as he’s out of his meeting.”
I frown. I don’t remember a meeting on his calendar.
“With who?” I ask. My thumb on my steering wheel begins tapping to a rapid beat.
“I don’t know,” she says, and I can almost see her shrug. “Some guy came in shortly after you left and they’ve been holed up in the conference room ever since.”
“Huh,” I respond. “Okay then, just let him know I’ll be back soon if he’s out of his meeting before I return.”
“Will do,” she sings into the phone and says goodbye.
With the phone disconnected, I start the car and pull into traffic. It’s midday in Grand Rapids and the lunch hour makes it take longer than usual to get to James’s office.
The whole drive, I rack my brain, trying to figure out who Liam could be meeting with, before giving up. If I have to know, he’ll tell me. Ever since I showed up at his condo last Saturday, we’ve fallen into a respectful working relationship.
We have the perfect boss/assistant relationship during the day.
At night, I show up at his door and he lets me in and does things to my body I’ve never experienced.
Each night when I leave his bed, my mind is blank of emotions and my body is warm and sated.
It’s fantastic, and getting easier to push down the knowledge that when Liam walks away from me, deciding to end this affair, my heart will be shattered.
We don’t talk about anything important at all. Ever. It’s against the rules.
But still I know I’m falling for him.
It won’t end well for me, yet I’m not strong or wise enough to walk away before it falls apart.
I want him too much.
I enjoy the pleasure he gives me too much.
I think back to last night and the splendid way he pleasured me in the shower before I left for home, trying to use it to gather courage for what I’m about to do.
“Laurie.”
My hand curls into a fist when I look into Becky’s wide, shocked eyes. Her hands curl around the edge of her desk as she stands up.
I scoff. She looks pale and frightened, like I’m going to slap her.
If I wanted to do that, I would have when I heard her talk about sucking my husband’s cock and wanting more while she stood in my kitchen.
A lifetime of friendship is gone.
I don’t want to hit her. I want to shake her and scream at her.
She’s ruined the life I thought I had and I hate her.
“Is James in?” I ask, ignoring the way her lips curl into a smirk. She’s erased her fear so easily I wonder if I knew my friend at all.
I haven’t even bothered asking her why she would do this.
And I’m not going to today, either.
“He’s busy today,” she drawls, her voice dropping an octave. “We’ve had some…late nights recently, as you know, so he’s behind on his work.”
I seethe, and my blood chills at her implication. She’s lying, and I don’t know why she’s intentionally trying to hurt me. But I do catch that she doesn’t know James hasn’t been coming home to me at night.
I’d almost believe her if my phone wasn’t constantly alerting me to James trying to get ahold of me at night. It’s been a week since our lunch meeting at Miller’s, and I’ve been avoiding him, hoping he’ll give up.
He doesn’t seem to be ready to do that yet, which is why I’m here.
My head tilts to the side and I shake it.
“Why would you do this, Becky?” I finally ask quietly, my voice hitching over the words. I’m out of tears and wouldn’t let them fall even if I thought they might. “We were friends for years. How could you just sleep with him?”
She grimaces for just a moment before a plastic smile is on her face. God. Did I know my friend at all? “I’ve always wanted him,” she says, and her voice is sickly cold. “And when you stopped paying attention to him, stopped needing him, I was there.”
There it is again: the blame. Someday I might sit down and wonder if all of this was really my fault to begin with, since it seems everyone likes to look at me for the cause.
But it’s not going to be today, and it certainly won’t be in front of someone who stabbed me in the back and seems to enjoy that she’s done it so effectively.
I’m about to call her a worthless tramp when James’s office door clicks open.
My head snaps to his and I watch his mouth drop ope
n.
“Laurie,” he clips, and his eyes flicker to Becky. They return to mine immediately and he takes three quick strides to stand in front of me. “What are you doing here?”
I lift an envelope. His eyes flash to the name stamped on top—“Hampshire Divorce Attorney” —and he rips it out of my hands.
“Hold my calls,” he snaps to Becky and wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his office.
It’s a move he doesn’t have the right to make, but I don’t pull away before his door closes.
“I hate her.” I seethe with a whisper, and my hands ball into fists. Inside the safety of James’s office, out of Becky’s view, I finally feel my confident resolve begin to crumble.
“Laurie.”
I turn to James to see him raising the envelope, eyebrows raised in question.
“What is this?”
“That,” I point at it, “is because you stuck your dick inside that bitch out there.” My finger whips to his door and I point at it, gesturing to Becky.
My emotions are frazzled. I’m losing control and I can’t even bother to care. I feel my blood pulsing through me and my pulse thrums in my ears.
“Hey,” he says softly and drops the envelope on the desk. His eyes widen with concern. “What did she say to you?”
I flinch as his hands come up and wrap around my shoulders.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and try to pull away but his fingers tighten.
“If she said something to upset you, please…tell me and I’ll deal with it.”
I scoff and look him directly in the eye. I want to see his reaction even though I know she’s lying. “She implied you’re behind at work because you’ve been too busy fucking her at night.”
His lips snarl and his eyes flash. “She’s lying.”
“I know that,” I tell him and swat his hands away. “But isn’t it telling that I had to wonder first? And then even when I knew she was, I still doubted you?” I walk to where he tossed the divorce agreement and hold it up. “I went to a lawyer today. I want you to sign these.”
He glares at the envelope like he could set it on fire. I’ve never seen him so angry before.
His arms cross over his chest and his lips twist petulantly. “And if I don’t?”
“James.” I drop the papers and brush my forehead with my fingers. The beginning pangs of a headache are pinching behind my eyes. This is too much. “This is exhausting. We’ve been over everything and we’re running in circles. Please, I’m too tired to do it again. Just sign the papers.” I inhale a deep breath and look away from him. I can see how tired he really does look. How much the stress of this has affected him. “You have sixty days or you can contest it, but I really hope you don’t.” I walk toward him, feeling pulled to a man I’ve loved forever, and I hate that he’s in pain and I’m hurting. Whose fault it is doesn’t even matter anymore. It just…
Hurts.
I put my hand on his chest and watch as he hisses in a breath. His hand covers mine and squeezes. I look up, tilting my head back to see my sad expression reflecting in his eyes. “Please, James. Do this for me.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “Counseling.”
I jerk back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his other hand reaches up and cups the back of my neck. It’s tender and light, as if he’s afraid of touching me. “What?”
His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, and I’m mesmerized by the movement. “Please, Laurie. I said I’d do anything. Go to counseling with me. Sixty days until the papers need to be completed. If you still think there’s no hope, then I’ll sign them and give you whatever you want.”
I blink several times. That’s what I wanted at the very beginning, and he would never give it to me. “Why now?”
“Because now I have experienced a fraction of the pain you did. Do you know that I can’t sleep at night, wondering who the man who touched you is? What he looks like? If you enjoyed another man’s hands on you? It’s killing me and I want to strangle him.”
I push away. “James,” I warn.
“I get it,” he says, leaning down until we’re inches from each other. “I get the pain, and if you wanted me to feel it, you win.”
“That’s not why,” I blurt, but he shakes his head.
“I don’t mean that. But if you wanted to get even, you’ve done it. Let’s face the fact that we’ve both made mistakes, take these next few weeks and just try one last time.” His hand on my neck pulls me forward until I collapse against his chest.
I feel his heart thumping against my cheek and I can’t help but inhale his familiar cologne.
Tears sting my eyes.
“I can’t, James. It’s too much.” And there’s someone else. But I can’t say that, because Liam doesn’t come with promises and guarantees.
He comes with an unknown expiration date.
“Please, Laurie.” His fingers tangle in my hair and he begins to massage the nape of my neck.
I close my eyes, allowing his familiarly comforting touch to soothe my racing heart.
“Let’s not walk away from what we’ve always had without trying one last time. I told you I’d do anything and I’m willing.”
I shake my head, not answering. “I hate that you still work with her.”
I hate that he sees her. That she can touch him. That she can smile and flirt and tempt him. It’s ultimately James’s fault, I know this. But him staying around Becky after that show she just put on for me is dangerous.
“I’ve talked to HR,” he whispers, his lips brushing against the top of my head. “Unfortunately we have to be careful because if I just fire her, or if they do, she can claim unlawful termination and use that night against us.” I flinch in his grasp and his arm drops from my neck to my shoulders. “I’m working on it. They’re trying to find anything else we can use to get her at least transferred, but unfortunately for this scenario, Becky’s good at what she does.”
I sniff against him, pushing down my tears. I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion.
“I should go,” I murmur against his shirt. I push against his arm, and he lets me go.
Without saying a word he walks to his desk and picks something up. I take the moment to take in his office. Behind his desk he has photos that show us smiling and embracing. A wedding photo that documents our first kiss as husband and wife. And I hate myself for it, but I catalog the difference between James’s office and Liam’s. With a deep mahogany desk and rich greens and blues on the fabric of his chairs and a coordinating lighter blue on the walls, James’s office is warm and inviting.
Liam’s is all glass and mirrors and silver, making it look stark and cold.
Both men are powerful and command loyalty.
Only one of them smiles while he does it.
As if on cue, James turns to me, a nervous smile on his lips when he hands me a business card.
I look at it and my eyes widen.
He shifts on his feet and his eyes twitch. “I have an appointment Tuesday. I was going to call you tonight to ask if you’d come with me.”
Elissa Dillon, Marriage and Family Therapist is scrawled in elegant script on the cream card, and beneath it is her phone number and address.
“I don’t…” I shake my head. I can’t believe he’s doing this.
Tears fall from my eyes unbidden and quicker than I can feel them sneak up on me. He’s really trying.
I wipe the wet drops away. “I don’t know if I can.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be there anyway to talk to her. I thought…I wanted you to see how much I want this, Laurie. But I’d like for you to be there, too.”
“I can’t make that promise.”
He tries to smile but his lips tip down at the edges. “Just tell me you’ll think about it.”
I bite my tongue to push away more tears. Just when I think I have everything figured out, what choices need to be made, something keeps throwing me off course.
“Okay,” I finally
say with a whisper. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods, and then leans in, brushing a kiss against my cheek before stepping toward his door. “If you choose not to come, I won’t make anything harder on you. I promise. I just don’t want us to give up before we can do everything we can to fix it, either.”
God. It’s the perfect words. He sounds like the perfect man.
For that point, in his black suit and his dark hair with warm brown eyes…he looks every bit the perfect man.
But it’s his flaws I see, and mine even more so.
“Take care, James.”
I walk through the open door and avoid Becky—or she avoids me, because she keeps her head down at her desk until I’m at the elevator.
I can feel James watching me, but I don’t turn back.
“Oh, James,” Becky croons while I’m waiting for the elevator. My spine straightens at the glint in her voice.
And then I hear James’s door click shut.
The elevator doors chime open and when I step inside, I glance back at Becky’s desk, not surprised at all to see her standing by her chair, seething at the door that was shut in her face.
I roll my eyes back and my shoulders fall, defeated as soon as I see the man standing at my desk when I hustle into our offices.
He’s the last person I want to see right now.
Liam notices me as soon as I glance toward the hall leading to the bathrooms. I need a minute to compose myself before being around him, but now I won’t be given the chance.
“You’re late,” he states unnecessarily and pushes off the desk.
I play with my hair and look away from him. My eyes are red and puffy and I know I still have mascara swiped beneath my eyes. It has taken me the entire thirty minutes back to the office to stop crying and shaking.
Driving was hard enough.
Being around Liam right now will be next to impossible.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him and try to scoot around him without him noticing my eyes or my smeared cheeks that still show the lines of wet tears.
