Eligible Ex-Husband: A Hero Club Novel

by Marie Johnston

  “Speaking of which, don’t be surprised when Abby asks if you can coach her soccer team this fall.”

  I’m interested. I used to help coach in high school. The energy of little kids is like nothing else. Going back to the basics, when it’s just fun to play and not stress about the outcome, is a treat.

  I’d love to coach again. When I talk to Helena, I’ll have to talk to her about opening my schedule this fall so I can. To do that, we’ll have to hire on another person. That’s on my mental to-do list for next week.

  Natalie sips her water. “I tried to tell her that you might be too busy—”

  “No. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “But then Maddy is starting this year and will want you to coach too.”

  “I can make it work.” I’ll really have to talk with Helena. We’ll definitely need another assistant, but also someone to work with client portfolios so I can concentrate on the equities side. My clients don’t trust just anyone and many of them started with me when it was me and Natalie. We were a family business but we promised and delivered the same outcome as if they invested with the firms that wouldn’t even let them close to anyone in the big office.

  If I start doling out all my duties to Helena and another assistant, it wouldn’t be the same company we started. Which is unrealistic. We’re growing, serving more people, and we need the staff to do it.

  “You’ll coach both teams?”

  The disbelief in her voice firms my resolve. “I’ll make it work.”

  She sits back. The server fills our water glasses, giving us a break from conversing.

  After the woman leaves, Natalie asks, “You’ll really do that?”

  “I want to be involved in their life. Can you send Charlie the dates of the open houses at the school? I don’t want to miss those. Especially not kindergarten.”

  Her brows lift higher. I’ve really caught her off guard. This shouldn’t be so shocking. I was with her when Abby started kindergarten. I had to run out early, but I made it.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll do that.” Her entire being lightens, as if she’s come to a decision about me and the real likelihood that we’ll make it. “What else do you have planned for a Sunday night date?”

  “Down the street, there’s an open mic night.”

  “We’ve never done one of those. I’ve never done one of those.”

  Did she think I cut loose when the ink was dried on our divorce papers? “If you haven’t done it, then I haven’t.”

  She ponders me for a few moments and I feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. “You said…” She bites her lower lip. “You said you hadn’t slept with anyone after we split. Didn’t you date at all?”

  I meant it when I said there was only her. “Why would I?”

  “You read the article. I’m sure you were asked.”

  “I was at work or at the condo. If I traveled it was for business. Charlie took care of the meals, so I hardly had to go to the grocery store. If anything wasn’t work-related, I was with the kids.”

  “You had to have gotten hit on.”

  “Maybe. I didn’t notice.”

  Her lips twist. “You never did.”

  It’s my turn to study her. “I always had the feeling you thought I was one foot out the door.” That feeling hasn’t changed.

  “What do you mean?”

  The little crease in her forehead tells me she knows exactly what I mean. “We’ve been together since we were nineteen. Earlier tonight, I was thinking about when you told me that you were pregnant and how you thought I was going to break up with you.”

  “I didn’t…” She sighs. “You know how different we grew up. You were all jock and I was all girl in the corner with a book.”

  “I happen to like girls in corners with books.” I wince and chuckle. “That sounded better in my head.”

  She smiles but fiddles with the edge of her napkin. “You’re too good to be true, and when I finally accepted that you were legit and weren’t going to be swayed by a piece of ass that promised nothing but a good time, your focus became work.”

  “And you know why,” I say quietly.

  “I don’t care about a big house or money.”

  “I know.” That’s not how she grew up. How I grew up was different. There was a stark difference in what Liam was provided versus me. Liam got the newest and the best, I got the rest. His college was fully funded and I worked my ass off for the rowing scholarship but I had to pick up the rest.

  I’m determined not to do that with my family.

  Natalie

  The last open mic act wraps up and I clap, astonished at the amount of talent in our area.

  “I never knew we had so many local singers and poets,” I say to Simon as we rise and push in our chairs.

  “Me either. We’ll have to come here more often.”

  It was fun. This whole night was fun. I struggle to recall when we last went out, just the two of us. When Abby was little, maybe, but we didn’t do much more than dinner and a movie.

  We’ve lived in Fargo for seven years and don’t know all it offers. The couple that we chatted with between open mic sets said they’ve gone to comedy nights, wine tastings, and local brewery hops.

  I’m already planning another date night soon.

  I guess that means I’ve lost some of my anxiety that Simon’s going to revert to his old ways.

  We walk out to the sidewalk toward Simon’s car. His hand is on my back. It’s more of a protective gesture than to steer me away from other patrons heading home for the night.

  “So, what now?” I ask. It’s a few minutes after ten.

  “A quiet house?” He grins at me. Fading daylight casts shadows over his face, making him look like the superhero I thought he resembled when I first saw him. No one could be that ridiculously cute and nice and not have something to hide. “I thought that since tomorrow’s going to be a late night, we should turn in early tonight.”

  “Good call. We’re going to pay for a late night of fireworks on Tuesday morning.”

  “I promised them the best spot to watch.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  I grin the whole way home. My body’s tingling because I know what’s coming next. “They’ve been talking constantly about tomorrow. I think they’re excited.”

  “I made the mistake of saying we might check out Bonanzaville.”

  “You’re crazy.” He has a full day planned that’s going to wipe out not only the kids, but us and my parents. But Bonanzaville will be fun. They put on a fireworks show, and while we’re waiting, we can tour their historical museum and displays. The girls would love the old-time general store and Fargo’s first schoolhouse. We always talked about going, but we haven’t yet.

  His phone pings a few times, but he ignores it while driving. No one else calls him but Helena and his clients. It’s a holiday weekend.

  But he doesn’t only invest nationally.

  My glow from the date fades the closer we get to home. Simon’s checking his messages.

  He’s clueless to my change in mood, but I’m masking it like normal. I don’t say anything. If this is going to work, I have to trust him and give him a chance to deal with it.

  “I’m not tired,” he says as we enter the house. “Feel up to a show?”

  Cuddling in our movie room has a nice ring to it. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “You pick. I’ll run and change.”

  He’ll change all right. And check his messages. But he’s trying.

  I don’t need to change. There’re blankets in the movie room if I get cold, but I plan to share more than body heat with my husb—with Simon.

  Clicking through streaming services, I find a Spider-Man we haven’t seen. We share a love of action movies and I will never go wrong with a superhero movie. A lot of action and a little bit of romance.

  I assume he hasn’t seen it. I heard, loudly from the girls, that there’s nothing
good to watch at his place and he claims not to have gone out.

  You’re it for me. You were always it for me.

  He was so sincere when he said that. A satisfied quiver runs through my belly.

  Several minutes go by and I tire of watching the same clip playing over and over while waiting to hit play. I back out of the movie and choose an Earth documentary to pass the time. We might be able to sleep in tomorrow, but it’s still getting late.

  Finally, I click the screen off, irritation slithering through me.

  His fucking work struck again.

  I knew it.

  He’s locked himself away. He might as well pack his damn bags while he’s on his call. Our first date night in years and this is how it ends?

  I’m stomping up the stairs when I stop. My heart is racing and rage pounds at my skull. All those old feelings of inadequacy and helplessness are assailing me. But they’re from before. We aren’t in the same place as we were a year ago.

  What am I doing? Am I going to pound on his door and demand he hang up the phone? Am I going to go to bed and lock him out?

  The first time work majorly interferes and I’m ready to bail.

  I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. He’s doing his part and I have to do more than issue ultimatums. We haven’t been home an hour and I’m ready to toss in the towel.

  We had a wonderful dinner, a nice evening listening to a variety of live music, and now we’re home.

  It’s too late for a show, but I can get ready for bed. And I’ll be there by the time he’s done.

  I shuck off my dress and strip the rest of my clothes off. Washing the product out of my hair, I hum to myself. The sound fools me into loosening up.

  I let out a long breath and visualize my tension going with it. It’ll be okay. He’ll come to bed. If we don’t have sex it’s not the end of the world. Having Simon undisturbed from Friday night to Sunday night is an oddity, one I would gladly have regularly.

  Shutting the water off, I step out of the ceramic enclave for my towel. There’s a tall form leaning in the doorway, a navy blue towel dangling from his hand.

  I yelp and steady my hand on my heart. “Simon. You scared me.”

  The corner of his mouth tilts up. He’s still in his slacks. The top button is undone and his shirt is half untucked. A rogue lock of hair rests on his forehead. “I’m glad that you aren’t used to men waiting for you when your shower’s done.”

  For the first time it occurs to me that he might’ve thought I was out dating. I repress a shudder. I don’t think waiting twenty years after the divorce would’ve given me enough time to be ready for that.

  No one can compare to Simon.

  I look him over one more time. He’s not offering me the towel and his gaze is licking over my bare body. There’s one hanging next to me, but I don’t grab for it. Shadows linger in his eyes where there were none before. “Is everything okay?”

  He lifts his gaze and I can see that no, it’s not. “I took care of it. A London company that’s going public and that Gainesworth Equity was in consideration with has been accused of scamming their clients. Mr. Waterson found out about it first and is on a rampage, demanding to know if this is how I do business now.”

  Ugh. I never liked Mr. Waterson and his leering gaze. “That’s bad.”

  “I think it’s rumors, but it’s going to hurt their stocks and they’re going into emergency mode.”

  I’m surprised that Simon isn’t quick to believe speculation. He diligently researches companies. Many of his trips were to meet with owners, investors, and CEOs and also those who used to do business with them. Simon doesn’t play around with his money or anyone else’s.

  He tosses the towel on the counter and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “I had to make a quick action plan and send Helena a list, starting with drafting a letter to our clients. But I may have to regretfully bail on the company, rumors or no. My clients’ best interest comes first.”

  “You won’t get tomorrow off.” His shirt’s almost off and the planes of his abs never cease to steal my attention, but they aren’t enough to stop my disappointment.

  “I’ll work on it in the morning. With her help, we’ll make it through the Fourth. Tuesday will be hell, but I’ll have an excuse to delay the interviews.”

  I hate to give up any of his time when he doesn’t ever take a full day off, but it’s better than nothing. It’s more than he’s given us on the last few years of holidays. I was right to step back and trust him. He and I are in this together.

  He’s coming closer. His shirt flutters to the floor. I barely remember what he said last. Oh yes. Rescheduling the interviews. “Right. Because you’re so eligible.”

  “I am.”

  He crowds me into the shower enclave and turns on the six showerheads. His slacks are still on, making this whole encounter feel spontaneous and illicit. I jump at the first hit of cold water, but my body heat warms it faster than the water heater.

  He dips his head down, his mouth hovering over mine, water dripping off his hair, and unzips his pants. “Want me to show you how eligible I am?”

  Chapter 16

  Simon

  I was up before my alarm this morning. Helena sent the draft before ten a.m. and I was in conference calls all morning.

  Natalie encouraged me to commandeer her office. She’s changed since our date. Not as guarded. I made love to her last night in the shower and again when we dried off and got into bed.

  Spending the night in the same bed as my wife, under the covers with her, is the highlight of my year. I won’t give up until I have it every night.

  I didn’t want to ruin it with an alarm. I kept it on vibrate, but it didn’t matter. I was already awake, my mind racing with the tasks ahead.

  Pulling out of investing with the London firm would be better done face-to-face, and as much as I shouldn’t rush it, I have prior commitments. One is cutting fruits and vegetables for today’s celebration and the other two are on their way over with their grandparents. If I can get through today, tackling what I need for work and living up to my promises for the “funnest day ever” will do more to show Natalie I’m serious than any date night.

  “I regret to inform you that Gaineworth Equity can no longer work—”

  “For heaven’s sake, Simon. Have a think on it. News only broke yesterday.” Mr. Mellon’s been up the whole night, trying to get ahead of his crumbling empire that was once so promising.

  I feel shitty, but it has to be done. “I wish you the best, Lan. I have no doubt you’ll learn from this and come back stronger than ever.”

  There’s only mild begging for me to reconsider before I manage to get off the phone with him. That felt like shit. My fingers twitch to call him back. No, I can’t risk my company for his. Others are relying on me. But when I can, I’ll help Mr. Mellon as much as I can.

  Time to check in with Helena.

  Her tone is brisk but hushed when she answers. “Yes, Mr. Gainesworth.”

  I rattle off my discussion with Mr. Mellon and what we need to do to communicate with our investors. “Can you draft another letter to investors regarding the final decision? I’ll take a look and get it sent out today.”

  “Today?” Her tone is sharp. There’s a rustle on the other end of the line and murmuring. Her husband?

  “Yes. We have to act fast. You know how Mr. Waterson likes to test us. He knows too many of our other clients.”

  I used to be a lot like him. It’s why I was so hesitant to hire someone after Natalie stepped back. But Liam’s money came with expectations, from myself and my parents. I can’t believe he left you so much. What did he think you could do with it?

  “Certainly, Mr. Gainesworth.” The phone shuffled again like she put her hand over the receiver. “I’ll have it to you by three o’clock today.”

  We’d be at Bonanzaville by then and I’d have to edit on the phone among a throng of people. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I need it by noon.”<
br />
  There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Noon.”

  It doesn’t quite sound like a confirmation in that dull tone, but if she says she’ll do it, then she’ll do it.

  “I appreciate it.” Natalie’s words from Friday come back to me. It’s a holiday for Helena too. “Look, I know it’s too late to help us out today, but when we return to the office we need to get an ad out for a new assistant, one for you. And we should probably start looking for a new location.”

  Neither of us need the extra work, but it’s the growing pains that come with running a successful business.

  “That would… that would help.”

  I hang up, considering her relieved reaction. Once again, Natalie’s insight into the company and the people behind it is spot on.

  My fingers are flying over the keyboard when I hear the delighted shouts of the girls. I save my progress and push back. Going out, I get tackled with hugs before the girls dart away. Their arms are loaded with new sidewalk chalk, containers of bubble solution, and wands to make bubbles as big as them.

  Just like I used to, I cross to my mother-in-law and give her a peck on the cheek. “Nana. So glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you for giving Natalie a week to pamper me.”

  I shake Pete’s hand. He’s grinning and relief washes through me. Being accepted by my in-laws is as important as Natalie’s approval. What I didn’t get with my own parents, I got with Janie and Pete Wagner. For Christmas, I received flannel pajama pants and various flavors of jerky. Blissfully normal gifts that came with no expectations.

  My parents make donations in my and the girls’ name, which I’m absolutely fine with, except I wished they’d include Natalie. But other than a card indicating where and how much they gave, we get little else. No phone calls with warm wishes for the holiday season. Natalie sends school pictures and videos every year and they thank me, not her.

  “How was your date night?” Pete asks, clapping me on the back. “Abby wanted to call you a million times, but I talked her out of it. Janie finally distracted them with lemonade and cookies.”