Page 8 of Against All Odds

Wyatt was not a fan of Alexa. They both rubbed each other the wrong way. He found her too manipulative, and Alexa thought Wyatt was a pseudo-intellectual hypocrite who pretended he was so “damnedblue-collar, all the while selling a freaking coffee table for twenty thousand dollars.”

“Regardless of what she wants,Idon’t want to be married to her.” I picked up the keys to my Jeep and heard clanging noises from his end. “You working?”

“Just varnish work,” he explained. “It’s a custom piece for some big-money tech bro.”

“Who? Larry Elison? Elon Musk? Jeff Bezos?” I teased. Wyatt had once sold a card table to Bill Gates, so it was a pertinent question.

“Cut it out,” he lamented. “Now, tell me more about that woman who knocked your socks off.”

I chuckled. I had mentioned Bambi to him when we last talked, as I’d just seen her. That was two weeks ago.

“Nothing to say. I haven’t seen her since that one time.”

“Come on,” Wyatt sounded exasperated. “Finally, you’re attracted to a woman for more than sex,andyou haven’t sought her out?”

I got into the Jeep and began the drive to Alexa’s place with Wyatt in my ear via AirPods. “Haven’t had the time. It’s still ski season here, so it’s taken some effort for me to take today off. But I wanted to go to the farmer’s market with Juno since she asked. I’m back at the resort tomorrow.”

The hotel business was a twenty-four-seven job, and as a general manager, I knew how to set up boundaries—but that didn’t mean I worked a regular nine-to-five.

The Royal Ski Resort was now functioning well after the shitshow I’d inherited, and we’d improved on all parameters of guest satisfaction. However, it was still not where I was comfortable delegating to the assistant GM. Maybe by the next ski season, we'll have worked out all of the kinks, but until then, my schedule remained tight with putting out fires besides the regular work that I had to do.

“How long has it been since you were with a woman?” Wyatt mused.

“Long enough,” I replied in good humor.

Wyatt was four years younger than me and was still single, never having fallen in love or been with a woman long enough to call it a relationship. Alexa used to grumble about how he was a manwhore. I hated that term because that wasn’t who Wyatt was. He was single, he enjoyed the company of women, and he was always respectful. Our parents had drummed into us the importance of doing what we felt was right for us and not conforming to societal rules—but definitely having values that centered around integrity andhonesty.

They’d been supportive when I told them about my plan to seek a divorce because they, too, had seen the changes in Alexa, though they hadn’t been as vocal about it as Wyatt had been.

My brother enjoyed being single. I wasn’t like him. I liked being part of a couple—at least, I had until Alexa and I grew in such different directions that compromise became nearly impossible. I knew she understood that, which was why I didn’t put much stock in Wyatt’s theory that she was trying to get us back together. She had wanted to move to Aspen to be closer to her parents and sister, preparing for what she said would be a difficult transition after the divorce. I understood that. I respected it.

Wyatt and I talked for a bit longer and made plans for him to come to Aspen soon.

When I got to Alexa’s house, Juno was waiting for me at her mother’s doorstep. She came running as soon as she saw the Jeep.

Once we were driving, she talked a mile a minute—telling me everything that was going on in her life. Many of my friends who had teenage children complained about how they went from cute kids to demon-possessed spawns of Satan—but I couldn’t relate. Juno was still the wonderfully open, happy kid she’d always been. Sure, sometimes I caught traces of her mother in her, especially when she insisted she just had to have a designer bag becauseeveryonedid—but that was new and started after we moved to Aspen. I hoped I’d nipped it in the bud, but only time would tell.

“I love this time of year.” Juno snuggled into her jacket, and I grinned at her.

For a native Southern Californian, my daughter had taken to Aspen weather like she’d been born for it. She loved the changing seasons, the snow, and how the late-spring sun cut through the crisp April air, warming the snow that still clung to the surrounding peaks, extending the ski season and our profits.

“Me too, kiddo.” I put an arm around her as we walked to the market from the parking lot. The Aspen Saturday Market wasn’t officially in full swing yet, not until June, but a handful of early vendors had popped up for the shoulder season, selling everything from fresh pastries to handmade candles.

Juno and I strolled past stalls. The smell of roasted coffee mingled with the sweetness of blooming tulips on a flower cart. I glanced down at her—her blonde hair tucked under a knit beanie—and tried not to think about how fast fifteen had snuck up on me.

“So, how are things going, Junebug?”

Moving from sunny San Diego to a small mountain town with more snow than malls hadn’t exactly been her idea of fun, but she’d handled it with grace—even if, for a while, her grades had suffered. Alexa had lost her shit, while I told Juno to take her time settling in and not to worry about how she was doing at school. My daughter was smart, and I knew she’d find her way, which she had.

“Good,” she said solemnly. “I’m ready, though, for school to end. I’m in need of summer break so I can catch up on sleep.”

“How’s the social network?” I asked as we stopped in front of Hadley’s Candles, and Juno picked up various glasses to sniff.

She shrugged. “Getting better. It’s just different, ya know?”

“Different good or bad?”

She picked up a lavender candle and handed it to Hadley. “I’ll take this, thank you.”

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