The One Where He Gets Divorced

I woke six times during my jet-lag nap, each time stretching my hand out across the bed to reach for a woman who wasn’t there. Even now, I pull two coffee mugs from the cupboard, and it takes me until after I’ve filled them both to remember why I don’t need the second.

It’s a dull throb, knowing she’s not here. It’s not a crippling, intense pain that comes in waves, peaking every now and then. It’s a constant ache, not enough to stop me from going about my business, but enough that I’m always aware of it. Enough to be a sucker-punch in the gut here and there.

It hits the most when I think about her. Then, the ache intensifies into a full-body sweep of longing. Through the longing is the guilt. That is, for me, perhaps the worst part of this situation. Knowing there’s the chance that it could have been avoided, that I could have done something about it if only I’d been brave enough at the start.

It’s the guilt that I not only caused this and hurt myself but hurt her in the process. That’s the biggest portion of it. Seeing that teary sheen to her eyes as they filled with wetness and the subtle quiver of her bottom lip as she held in her emotions haunts me every time I close my eyes. The sound of her voice as she spoke to me accusingly, speaking the way I deserved to be spoken to, echoes in my ears whenever I’m surrounded by silence.

The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her, and I did it while trying to do the opposite. That fact doesn’t escape me.

I finish the last of my coffee, tightly closing my eyes as the hot liquid burns my throat, and shrug my jacket on. My car is waiting for me downstairs, and I climb in, flipping through my calendar on my phone.

I meant to see my schedule to see what I have coming up in an attempt to rid my mind from the woman currently possessing it, but instead I’m seeing how soon I can leave New York. How quickly I can return to Seattle to set this whole thing straight.

Two days, realistically. That’s two days too long. I can possibly leave tomorrow, but that’s pushing it. Still, though…

Leaving Dayton in a city on the other side of the country for much longer, without me, is unfathomable. Regardless of how hard I may have to fight to win her back, I can’t fight if I’m not there.

Tomorrow it is.

I stroll into the office and up the elevator without a word to anyone. My pending divorce aside, I’ve been preparing for today for as long as I can remember. Four years of studying for a business degree, interning here, summer jobs filing—they were all for today, the moment my father signs the business over to me.

It’s insane, and slightly overwhelming, to think that this empire he’s built will belong to me when I walk out of this building.

I rap twice on his office door and step inside. He’s already waiting with my mother, the lawyer, and my cousin, Tyler. Tyler slaps me on the back of my shoulder, but my focus is on the desk and the files sitting in front of Mr. Carlisle.

The phone rings and my father presses the button on the set. “Yes?”

“Ms. Lane is here to see you, sir.”

“Send her in.” He ends the connection and stands, motioning for me to take a seat behind the desk.

My eyebrow quirks at him, but all he does is reinforce the motion. I do as he silently requests and lower myself into the plush leather chair he’s offering.

Naomi enters the room with her usual self-righteousness. She winks at Tyler, and he responds with a disgusted look. She’s not exactly popular, even with my womanizing cousin.

“Ms. Lane.” Mr. Carlisle greets her and holds out one of the seats opposite the desk. “I trust you’re aware of the purpose of today’s meeting?”

Naomi turns steely eyes on me. “Perfectly aware. Thank you.”

“Then let’s get on with it.” I slide the file forward. “Nothing in it has changed, just the amount, but feel free to read through it so you’re satisfied.”

She takes the file without looking at me and flips through it, sighing when she reaches the page with the amount. She doesn’t contest, just like I knew she wouldn’t, and hands the file back to me after several minutes.

“You win, Aaron. Sign it and pass it back.”

I flip to the marked pages and scrawl my signature on each dictated line, a sense of freedom washing over me as I do. Naomi does the same when I hand it back to her, finality settling over her features.

“Excellent,” I mutter, taking my pen back from her. I turn to the lawyer. “And the other?”

He hands me the business contracts wordlessly. I have no need to read these. I’ve read them more times than my divorce papers, and I know that my father and Mr. Carlisle have already signed them because I asked them to in advance.

Naomi stands as I flick through another set of marked pages and I hold my finger up, indicating she should wait. I hear her heavy sigh as she does and continue my signatures on the hefty contract. When I reach the end, I close the file and set the pen on top.

My eyes meet Naomi’s as I stand. Silence weighs heavily in the room, anticipation and curiousness threading through it as my family and our legal representative look on.

“Yes?” Naomi responds in a bored tone.

I adjust my cuff link, breaking our eye contact for a moment before I find her gaze once more. I have to control my smirk as the words roll off my tongue.

“I’m afraid your modeling services are no longer required at the Stone Agency. Your agent is aware and in full agreement, and you may stop by her office on your way out to collect any details she may have and any possible future contracts should you decide to pursue a new agent outside of the company.”

Her mouth opens and closes several times until she resembles a fish. She straightens in her heels and looks at me furiously. “You’re firing me?”

“Firing you, letting you go… Call it what you will, Ms. Lane, but we will no longer be representing you.”

“You can’t do that! This is unfair dismissal.”

I rest my hands on the large antique desk in front of me and meet her eyes so she knows I’m being serious. “You haven’t signed a major contract in fifteen months, and since then, you’ve had less than ten jobs of any caliber. I’m letting you go on account of my belief that your time in this industry is coming to an end, and your former agent agrees with me, as do the director and manager of the agency. If you care to dispute our reasoning, then you are more than welcome. Until then, we’re done here. You know the way out.”

I sit down, tearing my eyes from hers and ignoring the harsh bark of laughter from my cousin. Naomi lingers for a moment, her eyes flicking over everyone in the room, then turns and leaves. The door slams behind her, and I finally give in to the twitch of my lips.

“Well, that’s soothed the sting a little,” Mom remarks casually. “Nothing like some early morning entertainment, especially when she is the victim.” She pats me on the shoulder.

“Was all that true?” Mr. Carlisle questions me. “If not, she can take you to court.”

“It’s true,” Dad clarifies. “I’ve been considering terminating her contract for a couple of months now, but in light of recent events, I decided I would let Aaron do the honors.”

“If you believe she’ll contest our claims, I’ll have the agency staff send you a full list of her contracts from the last two years,” I offer Mr. Carlisle. “I’d rather we cover all bases. She can be vindictive.”

Tyler snorts behind me but keeps his words to himself.

“Yes, best you do.” Mr. Carlisle stands and puts the files in his briefcase. “I will see to it that these find their rightful homes and that copies are returned to you, Mr. Stone. Junior,” he adds as an afterthought.

I smile and stand to shake his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Carlisle. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”

“Just doing my job.” He turns to my father, shakes his hand, and subsequently kisses my mother’s cheek before leaving.

I sit down for a second time and exhale deeply. This business now belongs to me, and Naomi is no longer a thorn in my side. Now all that’s left to do is—

“When are you going to get her?” Tyler asks.

“Tomorrow.”

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 750