One Careful Owner: Love Me, Love My Dog
Page 15
The guy backed his truck as far up my driveway as possible, but it still meant I had to use a wheelbarrow to ferry the rest. I didn’t care. More exertion, anything to stop me thinking.
Stan watched from the sidelines, yawning every now and then and practically rolling his eyes as I staggered backwards and forwards, carrying paving stones. He was used to my brand of weirdness.
Wake me when you’re finished, boss.
By then, I’d been getting a slight brain buzz from lack of sleep, but it felt right—sort of numb, like nothing else would fit in my head—which had been the point of the exercise. I just needed the mortar between the slabs to harden and it was finished. Hell, maybe I should just pave the whole nine acres that I owned. That would stop me feeling anything for a couple of years.
I’d headed back to the store to buy a bench.
And then . . . I’d spotted Dawn.
I hated the new wariness in her eyes, but despite everything I’d told her, she was going to give me, us, a chance.
When I heard the engine of a car drawing closer, unexpected hope swelled inside my chest. Dawn was coming back.
But when I opened the front door, a tentative smile on my face, I had a sudden urge to slam it again.
The woman in the car was shorter and curvier than Dawn, arguably sexier, and most men’s definition of hot. And the most manipulative, lying bitch I’d ever had the fuck awful luck to meet. Also known as my wife.
Charlotte was climbing out of a rental car, scowling as the new gravel marked her designer pumps.
My stomach clenched, and I knew my eyes were wide and wary, wondering if I had time to retreat.
She saw me watching and pasted a phony smile onto her face.
“Hello, Alex.”
I stared at her, all my words fleeing the scene of the crime.
“You’ve cut your hair. And that awful disgusting beard. Much better.”
I scowled at her.
“Nice place you’ve got here. It’s very . . . folksy.”
What did she want? She’d already taken everything.
She put one hand on her hip and thrust it out, the painted nails tapping impatiently against the tight fabric of her linen skirt.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Powerful anger pulsed through me. I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head slowly. I didn’t want memories of her tainting my new home.
Her smile vanished, and I was amused to watch the struggle as she tried to hold back her irritation.
“I just flew halfway across the country to see you!”
She sounded so indignant, I almost smiled. But no, she didn’t deserve my smiles. She didn’t deserve any of me, and certainly not my time.
I turned and walked back inside, closing the door firmly behind me.
Yeah, well. I should have bolted it, locked the windows, and tossed Holy water over the whole place, because thirty seconds later, she was standing at the backdoor looking really pissed.
Stan growled softly, his hackles rising in a stiff ridge of fur along his back. I placed my hand on his head to reassure him, and he raised his eyes to me in a worried frown.
Charlotte shot him a dark look, then took out her annoyance on me—a tactic I’d gotten used to.
“You just slammed the door in my face! I can’t believe you did that!”
“D-don’t w-w-w . . .” I took a long breath to allay the rising fury, and tried again. “I d-don’t want t-to ttt t-to t-talk to you.”
She reached out to touch my cheek, but her hand fell into empty space as I took a quick pace back.
“You’re still stuttering. I thought you’d have gotten over that by now.”
If I hadn’t been glaring at her, I would have missed the wash of guilt that passed across her face. But it was brief, and in an instant, she was back to business.
“I do need to talk to you,” she said, softening her tone minutely. “It’s important.”
Behind the power suit, the spike heels and the harlot red lip gloss—somewhere under all of that was the 20 year-old college student I’d met and fallen in love with. And even though I didn’t owe her a damn thing, I thought maybe I owed it to myself to hear her out. Maybe what she said would answer the question why?
I stood aside and let her through to the kitchen, watching her warily as she looked around, taking it all in.
“You know, you’ve done a great job with the place,” she said. “I really like the detail, especially the chair rail and paneling. Original oak floors—very nice.”
I doubted she’d come all this way just to critique my house, although it didn’t surprise me that she knew I’d bought a fixer-upper. She always said that knowledge was power. I raised an eyebrow.
“W-what . . . w-what do you want?”
“Do I need a reason to see my husband?”
My heart shuddered to a halt. Un-fucking-believable!
“Ex. H-hus b-band.”
Her eyes met mine, then she pulled out a kitchen chair and placed her briefcase next to it, crossing her legs so her skirt slid up her thighs, and composing herself as if for a business meeting.
“We’ll get to that. We never got a chance to talk. You were drunk or high all the time. You wouldn’t return my calls.”
That was true. Being numb seemed like a good idea after my brother was killed and I found her fucking Warren.
“But . . . I’m sorry about Carl. I never got to say that.”
I couldn’t help noticing how she still glossed over the fact that she was screwing my best friend in our bed. And yet her blue eyes shone with sincerity. She was always good at faking that.
“You d-didn’t like Carl.”
“No, but you loved him, so he was important to me, too.”
I didn’t know how much of this to believe. But I think I wanted to. I hated the feeling that our whole marriage had been a lie. I didn’t want her back, but I didn’t want to have been wrong from the start.
“Warren was a mistake. I want us to try again.”
She didn’t even blink.
“We were good together once. Remember when we met? We were Juniors. We were so in love. You couldn’t keep your hands off me,” and she laughed lightly. “Do you remember our first vacation in Aspen, when we skied all day and screwed all night? I must have lost ten pounds. Or what about when we won the Monaco Street contract? We fucked on the boardroom table? Remember? Good memories, Alex. I think that over the years we just got caught up in the business, but we have all these amazing memories, too.”
She was right, partly. I had loved her, with all my heart. And she’d crushed me. It was terrible to love someone. Terrible to love the wrong person, the wrong people. And be fucked up, fucked over, and just plain fucked.
I thought about Warren, my former friend. Also former Best Man and former business partner. And when I thought about him, I imagined marzipan around a turd: sweet on the outside, shit on the inside.
Caught up in the business? She still thought I was a pathetic idiot. Maybe I was. But I wasn’t her pathetic idiot.
“C-caught up in the sheets of our bed with W-warren.”
“There’s no need to be crass.”
I laughed without humor and stood up, willing her to leave.
“I never ch-cheated on you. Never.”
“Yeah, you’re a saint, I’m a slut.” She rolled her eyes. “I just met your little friend. Dawn, I think she said her name was.”
I scowled at her as she smiled, a pleased cat-like moue of amusement.
“Does she know about you?”
I gave a brief, jerky nod, enjoying the flicker of surprise on her face, followed by calculating indignation.
“Is it the daughter? Is that what you want? We can have children, Alex. You always wanted to. Well, I’m ready now.”
I was speechless. She couldn’t find an unprovocative topic of conversation with a GPS. But that was her M.O.
Charlotte trailed a manicured finger down my arm.
“N-not interested.”
She leaned back in the chair, appraising me silently.
“You loved me once, Alex.”
I did. But I don’t think you ever loved me. Not really.
She gave a long sigh.
“I can see that you’re not going to forgive me right now, but don’t hold a grudge believing that I never loved you.”
I wasn’t sure she was lying, but actions spoke louder than words. And she’d loved the business more.
“L-liar! P-p-police!”
“Good grief! Are we back to this? I did it for your sake, Alex! You were completely losing it—giving away our money, tossing it in the street like confetti.”
Only one time, and it had felt damn good. I smiled at the memory.
“My God, you were giving away the clothes off your back to street people—you were having a breakdown, you just didn’t want to admit it. Getting you into rehab probably saved your life. What happened afterward with the police, that was all you, nothing to do with me.”
I gave away my coat to a homeless man, I wasn’t naked in the damn street. Okay, so I gave him my shoes, too. But I had others, and he didn’t.
“Do you know what they called you?”
Yes, I knew.
I also knew that she’d been the one to involve the police in the first place, the one who’d sent Stan to a high-kill animal shelter.
Yeah, she’d done me a favor, because she’d targeted the one thing, the one creature that I still cared about.
I was sickened that she could convince herself that she’d done it all for my own good. Charlotte was an expert editor of her own history. But there was one thing she couldn’t edit, although I wished she could—the image of her with . . .
“W-warren,” I said flatly.
She shook her head.
“I lost my way. You were working those crazy hours, you never had time for me. I wasn’t your wife—I was your business partner. I saw you more in the Boardroom than the bedroom. I was lonely.”
I shook my head derisively, and Stan’s worried gaze ping-ponged between us. He’d stopped growling, but was glued to my side, his muscles balled with tension.
“You think you lost everything and that I took it, but I’ve lost too, Alex.” She gazed into the distance. “Not a single architect we’ve hired can match your flair, your vision. Look at what you’ve done for this dump. It would be a waste for you to bury yourself in Nowheresville. Come back. As a partner, or as a consultant—no strings and a six-figure salary. Not to me, if that’s not what you want. Come back to the company. Hell, it’s still got your name on it—that must mean something to you.”
“It d-did.”
“It could again. Just think about it. I’ll get my lawyer to draw up any contract you want. Or use your own. Your terms.”
After what Charlotte had done to me, the word ‘lawyer’ scared me more than ‘zombies are real’.
“S-stan.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What about him?”
I cocked my head on one side. She hadn’t changed.
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“Fine, bring the mutt, too.”
“L-like it h-here.”
She fumed, her barely suppressed frustration ready to boil over. She hated anyone telling her no. For once, I was finding it surprisingly enjoyable.
“Is it that woman? Is it serious?”
I thought of the way my heart hammered when Dawn looked at me. Yeah, it was serious.
Probably fatal.
“Then work from here!” she huffed out. “Fly in once a month for meetings. The company will pay. The best hotels—all your expenses.”
My eyes narrowed. Why was she so desperate? What wasn’t she telling me?
She took a deep breath as I shook my head again.
“I can’t do it without you, Alex,” she said softly, her large blue eyes gazing up at me, tears making them glisten.
And despite telling myself it was part of the act, I couldn’t help feeling my conscience twinge.
“The business is failing,” she sniffed, delicately wiping her eyes so that she didn’t smudge her mascara. “It’s your designs that made it work. We’ll lose the Lockheed contract without you.” She took a shuddering breath and stared straight at me. “Fine, I’ll say it: I need you, Alex. The company needs you. All those people—your friends—they’ll lose their jobs if you don’t come back. Do you want that on your conscience? Knowing you could have done something about it?”
She really was a piece of work.
If she’d come clean at the start then I might have considered working from home to help out until they found someone else. She was right—I had cared for my staff, valued and respected them. But they’d known about Charlotte and Warren, and not a single one had told me. They’d sold me out as quickly as she had. I didn’t owe her or them anything, and her attempts at manipulation enraged me.
She never had understood me. I suppose the evidence would say that it was mutual.
“Warren?”
She looked uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t have to see him.”
I stood up and walked to the front door, opening it and waiting for Charlotte to catch on.
After a few seconds, I heard the clack of her high heels across the wooden floor.
“So, you’ll do it?”
“Find another s-sucker.”
“But the company . . . ?”
“Fuck the company!” I said bitterly.
A company can’t keep you warm at night. An office won’t grow old with you. A paycheck isn’t a friend.
“I l-loved you, trusted you. You nearly killed me. For a while I hated you . . .”
Her face paled. “And now?”
“S-sorry. I feel sorry for you.”
She looked as if she might say something, but then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I paused, feeling the weight of nine years of marriage, 13 years of being together, and now all that was left was goodbye.
It was sad because I didn’t care.
She pulled an envelope out of her briefcase and pushed it into my hands.
Then she frowned at the leather bag, dropping it suddenly.
“Your mutt peed on my briefcase!”
A broad grin broke out across my face as I glanced at Stan who was watching from the kitchen, his head cocked to one side, the picture of innocence.
“Oh my God!” she screeched. “That’s disgusting! That cost me $3,000! It’s Gucci!”
I couldn’t help laughing.
Charlotte picked up the briefcase with the tips of her manicured fingers and strode through the door, her lips flattening.
As she slid into her rented Benz, she looked out of the window at me.
“You’re a loser, Alex. You always will be. You’re pathetic—and you have a fucking ugly dog.”
Tires spun on gravel as she shot out of the driveway and out of my life.
I watched her leave, closing the final chapter in our lives as Mr. and Mrs. Winters. All in all, it had gone better than I would have imagined.
Had she given me answers? Yes and no. But I felt as if I was seeing her clearly for the first time ever. Maybe she felt that way, too. We definitely weren’t the same people we were at 20. We’d changed, but we hadn’t grown together. Looking back, I think I was trying to find a family, something to be a part of when I married her. But now when I had those sorts of thoughts, Dawn and Katie slipped into my mind as if they belonged there.
I looked down at the envelope in my hands, opening it, wondering what new wrath Charlotte’s lawyers could rain down on me.
The letter was headed ‘Dissolution of marriage’. It sounded so clinical, so cold. But it also felt like I’d stepped out of the center of the hurricane—not our marriage so much, but the aftermath, definitely.
Looking at the document in my hand, I felt relief, maybe . . . deliverance. Yes, it was something else I’d failed at—like life—but at least I was free.
I waited two days for Dawn to call me, two long days before it occurred to me that something was seriously wrong. And I had a creeping suspicion that I knew what, or rather who, was the problem.
Charlotte had known about Dawn and I hadn’t even thought to ask her where she’d come across that information. After all, we’d only had two not-dates, so how the hell could my ex-wife have known?
But I was more worried about what Charlotte might have said to Dawn rather than how she found out about us. If there was an ‘us’—which was beginning to seem less and less likely.
Stirring things up had always been second nature to Charlotte. Had she said something to Dawn?
When my first text went unanswered, the trickle of unease kept me tossing and turning all night.
So I sent a second text asking if we could meet, and this time Dawn did respond.
* I don’t think that’s a good idea, so I’m going to say no. Please don’t ask me again.
Good luck in the future. *
I cursed loudly when I saw the answer. I knew that Charlotte had fucked things up for me again. There was no point even wondering about why, but how had me pulling my hair out.
I texted Dawn several more times, but she never replied. One day, I tried to call her, but by then she’d changed her number.
I thought about going to see her, somehow convince her to change her mind . . . but what was the point? She’d made it very clear that she didn’t want me around.
Desperation turned to anger, and anger turned to crushing despair. I thought Dawn was different, special. I really shouldn’t trust my instincts about women, they were obviously broken.
Stan rested his head on my knee and sighed heavily as I pulled his ears gently.
“Just you and me again, buddy. You and me.”
I decided there and then that relationships were a distraction I didn’t need. Instead, I’d concentrate on the next mission.
And that gave me a newfound desire not to kill myself. Unexpected, but true.
But the following day, I came home and found a check from Dawn for $500 in my mailbox, and a brief note saying it was to pay for the tires I’d put on her car.