Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“There’s an additional note in the settlement,” he tells her, pointing to a short paragraph at the bottom of the paperwork. “All copies of Barry’s testimony will be destroyed, along with the video and photographs. As long as you sign.”
“Was this your idea?” she practically spits at me. “I can’t believe it’s come to this, Ian. Really?”
Her eyes are pure thunder as she realizes her circumstances, and even I’m surprised at Wahlberg’s rather bullish methods. But I’m beyond playing nice. I’ve tried that for the last year and it hasn’t gotten us anywhere.
Cordelia glances at Goldberg, who pushes the pen back in her direction, knowing there’s no way out of this.
She picks up the pen. I can hardly breathe as, at last, I watch her sign the goddamn divorce papers with an angry squiggle that almost tears the pages.
I wait for a final outburst from her, some spiteful insult or threat. But she composes herself remarkably quickly, dabbing at her damp cheeks with a tissue. Wahlberg takes out another set of papers. “The paperwork for the purchase of the business, as discussed.”
“You’re really putting what you have left into this?” Cordelia shoots me a shocked glance.
“It’s only money. I started with less than what I have now. I’ll make do.”
“I’m jealous.”
“I know. And I don’t care.”
She signs those papers as well and picks up her handbag, stuffed with shreds of the torn papers and envelope, and storms out of the office, slamming the door as she leaves.
Wahlberg looks at me, a satisfied smile on his face. Even Goldberg looks relieved.
I shake Wahlberg’s hand, thanking him, before I shake Goldberg’s hand and part ways.
And then I breathe. Long and deep, all the stress and anxiety and angst from the last year vanishing. I’m finally taking a good, clean breath again. Finally, free.
I expected to feel weightless. Like celebrating. And yes, there’s relief, a shit ton of it. But a part of me mourns what went down in there. It mourns the girl my ex-wife used to be, the guy I used to be. Because the people who signed the marriage contract years ago were so damn different than the ones who are stepping out of this building.
I tell myself I’m not going to let myself grow apart from the woman I love again. I tell myself I’m going to hang on tight to her and never let go. Because one thing I learned from my marriage is that, even though you think love is enough to feed on, enough to hold a marriage together, it’s not. Communication, understanding, patience, loyalty—that’s the stuff that makes it last.
I regret that I didn’t know this before I let my work consume me, and I let my wife’s ambition consume her.
As I flag down the first cab I see, I smell that familiar perfume once more and turn to face Cordelia. She waited for me. Fuck. It’s typical that she can’t resist a final word, but nothing she says makes any difference now.
“So, you’re going to go and play house with your new little strumpet?” she demands angrily.
“I might, if you hadn’t tainted the word house for me.”
“Fuck you, Ian.”
“Back at you, Cordelia.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. You’re emotionally unavailable. Even to me, and I’ve known you for years. All you want is to work.”
“Maybe. Because I actually cared about your happiness and your safety. But that’s long gone.”
I open the cab door for her and watch my ex-wife reluctantly board, shooting me a snotty glance that I can’t care less about.
“Goodbye, Cordelia.”
BROADWAY
Sara
I’m dreading the appearance of the blonde bitch Ian married, but she’s nowhere in sight as I change into my dancing shoes and stretch out next to my new colleagues on the stage. We’re all waiting to be told what to do.
Everyone is shuffling around, commenting on how excited they are to have landed their respective roles. The sound of doors shutting causes me to raise my eyes to the far end of the auditorium. A tall, dark-haired man in a business suit is walking down the auditorium room steps.
My Suit is here?
I can’t help but stand a little straighter, in an effort to hide the way my heart just went crazy in my chest.
Ian is here…
On his way forward, the directors greet him.
I arch my brows, confused.
“From the top,” Ian calls as he glances up at us, taking a seat that one of the directors vacates for him.
I blink and shoot him a what are you doing? look, but run to take my place at the front of the dancers.
We take it from the top and perform the variation we practiced during audition. When the music stops, Ian whispers to one of the directors. “Take five,” that director calls.
I climb down from the platform and approach while Ian comes to his feet in one fluid motion, the gleam of pride in his eyes making my thighs feel watery.