Page 15 of Against All Odds

Thank God we don’t have kids. In the beginning of our marriage, I wanted to wait until we were in a better financial situation. Then, when we had money, I just couldn’t ... get myself to want to try.

I kept imagining the life they’d have with him always gone and in the public light. Not to mention, I’m not sure I’d be a good mom. My parents loved me, sure, but they weren’t kind and loving. They were distant and work focused. The only real affection was when I came to visit my grandma. She was the warm and sweet one.

Now I’m grateful I don’t have any kids who would be subject to this absolute shit show I’m living.

He nods slowly and then extends his hand toward the house. As we both start to walk, I hold my hair against my neck.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce,” he says.

“Don’t be. It’s for the best.”

“He’s an actor, right?”

I nod. “He definitely is. He was so good at acting like he was married, he forgot he actually was,” I say, hating I opened my big mouth about Dylan.

“He’s an idiot to let you go.”

“I think he’s just an idiot.” I lift my eyes to his, and we both smile. “But, right now, I sort of look like one, huh?”

“Never. You just look cold.”

I laugh. “I was freezing last night.”

“Come on then, let’s get heat in your house so you can warm up.”

I follow him back inside even though, right now, cold is the last thing I feel.

four

Everett

Iopen the door to my house and pause, waiting to see if my ridiculously gorgeous former love of my life is in the driveway again.

She’s not.

Relief—or at least that’s the word I’m going with—washes over me.

Not that I don’t want to see her.

No, that’s actually the damn problem. I want to see her all the time. I want to touch her, remember the way her lips fit against mine, and make her smile.

Which I do not have the time or should not even consider in the first place.

So best to avoid Violet Stewart—Leone—as much as possible.

Back to the mundane, that’s what I always say.

And by always, I mean never, but that’s my new catchphrase because since she returned, everything is backwards. I need forward facing.

I remote start my truck, toss my lunch in the passenger seat, and see a note sitting underneath my windshield wiper.

That’s odd.

I open it, wondering when the hell someone put this here.

Everett,

You didn’t give me your number and I didn’t want to be that girl who was waiting outside your door at seven in the morning again, so I just left a note. I’d like to have you over for dinner tonight as a way to thank you for helping me. Here’s my number, if you can text me and let me know what time works or just to say you’d rather not.

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