Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“What do you think she's doing, Harrison? Do you think she's sitting at home pining away for you? She wanted this, dude. The papers are signed, you have to accept it.”
“I don't know how I'm going to do that,” I say honestly.
“I don't know, man. What I do know is that you can't keep going like this. You've busted your ass—” He hesitates. “—you lost her from all the work you were putting in, at least that's your version. Are you just going to let all this slip away?”
Frustration tears through me. I want them both. I want this franchise to be successful, and I want my wife. Finding the folder he needs, I quickly sign off on the linen contract for the West location and hand it to him. “I did it for her,” I tell him. “All of it, for her, for us and now that she's… now that we're divorced, I don't see the point.”
“You need to get your shit together, man. This is your livelihood. With or without Gwendolyn, this is who you are. Unless you plan to pull the plug and lose the money and time you have invested, I suggest you pull your head out of your ass.” He points to the stacks on my desk. “You’ve got shit to do. Don’t get so far inside your own head, inside your pain and forget that. You have to keep going.” He turns and walks to the door. Stopping just at the threshold, he turns to face me. “If you did it for her, make it worth it. Make it the best it can be, the best I know you can make it. If you want to fight for her, fine, but don't throw away your career. Hire more people, delegate whatever the fuck you need to do to make this happen.”
I drop my pen on my desk and sit back in my chair, running my hands through my hair. “What do I do then?”
“You meet me tonight at seven at Twist of Lime. We’ll eat greasy food, have a few beers, and shoot the shit. Other than that, you want your wife back… you fight for her.” With that, he leaves my office.
Fight for her.
How in the hell do I fight for her when she won't even talk to me or return my calls? Grabbing my phone, I dial her number. It rings six times and then goes to voice mail. I didn't count the rings. I didn't have to. I've already counted them. Countless times while holding my breath, waiting for her to answer. “Hey, Win, it's me. I was uh… just calling to see how you're doing. I miss you. I know I'm not supposed to say that, but it's true. I miss you. I miss us and… just call me. Please.”
Tossing my phone back onto my desk, I think about what Chase said. I agree it's time I pull my head out of my ass before I lose everything I have left. I'm not going to hire someone to do the work I'm fully capable of doing. Besides, it will be a good distraction, at least I hope it will be. I need to throw myself into work and let it consume me. I can't make her call me, or return my text messages, no matter how badly I want to. How do you fight for someone who doesn't want you to? How do I convince her that we made a mistake?
Shaking out of my thoughts, forcing them to the back of my mind, I grab the first folder and get to work. I need to focus on what's here and now. Maybe she just needs some time, perhaps if I give her that, her heart will ache like mine and one day when I call she'll pick up. That's my new plan. I'll continue to call and text and engross myself in work. I am waiting for the day she reaches out. It doesn't matter how long it takes her. I'll wait forever.
I always assumed there would be time. I thought that we would figure it out. Days led to weeks, and weeks led to months. The next thing I knew I was being served with divorce papers. I can’t say why I didn’t fight then. I guess maybe I thought we wouldn’t go through with it. Regardless, I never should have let it get that far. I never should have signed those papers.
I want my wife back.
I push through pile after pile, signing invoices and contracts. I lost myself in the job, something that I’m apparently, extremely good at. It’s not until my phone alerts me to a message that I break my concentration.
* * *
Chase: 30 minutes
* * *
Shit. Looking at the clock, I see it’s six thirty. Shutting down my laptop, I grab the items that need to be mailed so I can drop them off on my way to the bar. Lucky for me, I pull into the lot just behind Chase.