Page 3 of Glitz & Goals

I open my mouth, then close it again. Larisse is hard, and she can be brutally practical, but this is downrightmean.She’s treating me like a problem instead of a husband.I don’t remember her being mean when we first got together. Am I seeing a new side of her, or did I make her this way by disappointing her? We’ve always been clear that, as a couple, we have three priorities: kids, our careers, and each other. We’re having trouble with the first, and now the second’s in jeopardy. Trials bring some people closer together, proving just how hard they’re willing to fight for one another.

Me? I’m a fighter.

I’m not so sure about Larisse.

My leg throbs in a brutal rhythm, despite the abundance of painkillers they gave me. I don’t want to fight, so I try for a joke instead. “I wasn’t expecting you to take the ballet season off. I was just surprised that you’re willing to leave me alone with a hot nurse.”

My attempt at humor is met with silence. Okay, that probably wasn’t the best thing I could have said, but I’mspiraling here. I’m in agony, and I’m not sure it’s all bodily. Some of it has to be coming from my broken heart. I’m not certain what’s going to happen now. Noah Abbott just fucked up my future, and now he’s going to walk away while I… I have to figure out how to live with whatever the doctors tell me.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Larisse whispers.

“Huh?” I must have missed something.

But no. She’s responding to my ill-timed joke. “It wouldn’t matter if you fucked a hot nurse. In fact, maybe you should.”

My heart stalls in my chest. “Larisse, what—?”

“The tests came back, Grady,” she whispers. “You’re the problem.”

I go limp against the seat of the car. “I’m shooting blanks?” I whisper. Shit, when was she going to tell me? Couldn’t this have waited for another time? I get that our fertility issues have been weighing on Larisse, but we’ve got other problems right now. I take a deep breath. “Well, shit. Maybe once I’m in PT for this injury, we can make an appointment to talk about IVF.”

“I don’t want that,” Larisse says.

“Fair enough. I’ve heard that the process can be really rough, emotionally speaking. And physically.” I’m babbling now, and I know it, but I can’t stop myself. “Maybe surrogacy would be a better idea. Or adoption. Anyway, the clinic should be able to tell us our options, so how about we just—”

“I know this isn’t the best time to say this, but,” Larisse says, staring straight ahead, elegant hands gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, “I want a divorce.

A strange whining sound builds in my ears, as if a million summer mosquitos are descending on me, and I’m too weak to fend them off. “Just like that? Jesus, Larisse, aren’t we at least going to talk about options?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

The car has come to a stop. We’re stuck in post-game traffic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the roads are still being salted after the big storm. I stare out the window at the faces of the other drivers and their passengers. Some are smiling and chatting. One guy is singing along to the music. A few cars ahead, a woman is twisted around to scold her kids who are acting up in the back seat.

They’re normal people, living their normal lives, and they have no idea that my world is falling apart in front of me.

“We promised to love each other, for better and worse,” I whisper, so low that I’m not sure she’ll hear it.

Larisse sighs and grips the wheel tighter. “I fell in love with a man who promised he could give me the things I wanted. Apparently, I was wrong.”

I feel like a fool for arguing with her. For believing that I mattered to her all these years. I can’t believe we’ve come to this, but at the same time, it feels inevitable.

I turn my face away from her and sink lower in my seat, pretending that I’ve fallen asleep. There’s no way she’d buy that I fell asleep that fast, but like me, she seems content to let the conversation die.

Just like our marriage.

Just like my career.

Just like our hopes for the future.

All the things I’ve poured my whole damn life into, unraveling at the same time.

In the ensuing silence, punctuated only by the rumble of engines and the honking of horns, I let my mind go quiet, making room for the despair I didn’t feel earlier. This morning, I was on top of the world. In the span of only a few hours, I’ve lost everything.

Chapter One

Grady

Eighteen Years Later

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