“Yes. Anything else?”
“Call Mr. Carlisle Sr. in New York and request that he draw up new divorce papers. Seven and a half is my final offer. I’ll be flying back to New York.”
“Absolutely. Mr. Stone…are you okay?”
I exhale loudly and rub my fingers through my hair. “Not particularly, Dottie, but there’s nothing I can do in this moment. Email me a schedule by tomorrow morning. Goodbye.”
I pocket my phone and leave the tiny space, my eyes set on the room we were just in. Naomi approaches me as soon as I walk through the door.
“Oh, Aaron. You almost missed dinner. Oh, where is your girlfriend?” Her smirk is anything but concerned.
I wrap my fingers around her arm and tug her from the room and back to the space I just called Dottie from. Then I slam the door behind us and pin her with my angry stare.
“I have no idea what you’re playing at with this tonight, Naomi, but it’s ridiculous. You’re not in high school anymore. Our relationship is over, and it never should have begun.”
“She didn’t know about us, did she?”
“What Dayton did or didn’t know is irrelevant and, quite frankly, none of your business. What is your business is the fact I will be returning to New York in seven days. My lawyer is drawing up new divorce papers now, and understand this.” I put my hands on the small table between us and lean forward. “You will f**king sign them. It’s my final offer and more than you deserve. If you refuse to sign them, we’ll take it to court and you’ll get less.”
Her face whitens despite her effort to remain composed. And why wouldn’t it? She’s being threatened out of money. Money she has no entitlement to.
“Let’s not be hasty, now—”
“Hasty?” I shout. “You’ve been playing this bullshit game for two years, and I’m finished. I’m done, Naomi. You’ll be flown to New York when I’ve looked over the papers to sign. There will be no further dancing around each other’s lawyers. There will be no more pushing unnecessarily. Do you understand me?”
She clicks her tongue and nods harshly.
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire for the evening.” I stand, adjust my jacket, and move toward the door. “I won’t be attending dinner tonight. I have far more important issues to attend to. Pass on my apologies to the others.”
I leave the room before she can respond and slip into a waiting elevator. I lean back against the mirrored wall, a heaviness settling over me from knowing that I’m returning to an empty room.
I could chase her. I could call the pilot and have him hold the plane until I get there.
But I can’t. I’m not letting her go, but I’m not rushing it either. Before I get her back, I have to figure everything out. I have to end this sham of a marriage properly, take care of a bit of business, then relocate to Seattle.
Then, and only then, can I fight for Dayton.
I hold on to this thought as I enter the suite that still smells so much like her.
The One Where He Makes Arrangements
I wearily let myself into my apartment. Seven days of nonstop meetings and a long flight—not to mention the time change—have done a number on me. There’s nothing I’d like more than to step out of these jeans and T-shirt and climb into bed for a large number of hours.
But as the screen of my cell lights up with my mother’s number flashing on screen, I know that isn’t an option until later tonight.
“Mom,” I answer¸ rubbing my forehead.
“Mr. Carlisle will be waiting for you with your divorce papers at nine a.m. at the house. If you feel like you can drag yourself over here to look at them, please do.” She hangs up without another word.
Actually, after those two sentences, I don’t feel like dragging myself over there at all. Hearing my mother’s less-than-pleasant inner thoughts out loud is never enjoyable, especially not when they involve my ex and are directed at me. Nevertheless, I should have expected this.
I also know that her last sentence was her attempting to be polite. What she really meant was that, if I have any brain cells at all, I better get my ass over there before the lawyer shows.
I step into the bathroom for a quick shower, trying not to think about the last time I did this alone. Usually there’s another person in here for me to run my hands over, to kiss, to wash. And usually, that person is doing the same thing back to me…
I exhale deeply, washing the soap from my body. God, I miss her. If I thought Dayton’s leaving me seven years ago was painful, I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared for the hollow feeling inside my chest or every lackluster beat of my heart.
Her laugh, her smile, the twinkle she gets in her eyes every time I look at her… I miss it all, and it’s only been a matter of days. I didn’t realize just how much I love her until I watched that car pull away from the hotel, taking her with it.
I didn’t realize just how much brighter she makes life.
I dress quickly, tugging a jacket over my sweater, and push my cell into my pocket. It rings again, and I'm relieved to see Dad’s name on the screen.
“Dad.”
“Your mom would like to know if you’re on your way yet.”
My eyes drift to the clock on the wall. “Yes, I’m about to leave. Forty-five minutes earlier than necessary.”
He relays this message to her, and a heavy breath crackles down the phone as he brings it back to his ear. “She says not to be smart, and she hopes you arrive with a little more respect than you’re currently showing her.”
Twenty-seven years old and the woman can still make me feel like a kid.
“I’ll try my best,” I reply.
“He said he’s sorry. He’s simply tired after his long flight, and he’ll make sure to bring a better attitude,” Dad calls. A door shuts, and he exhales. “Good grief. Son, she’s not happy.”
“Really, Dad? I wasn’t aware from our earlier conversation.” I get into the waiting car with a nod to the building doorman.
“I hope you have plenty of medication in your apartment, because I suspect you’ll need it when you leave. Although, I have to say, at this point, rather you than me.”
I wince. I can just imagine what he’s had to put up with for the last few days. To the public eye, my mother is the walking embodiment of composure and elegance, even when angry. In private, she’s the exact opposite.