Page 17 of Trading Up
Three weeks should have gone by in a flash, but it did not. Each day that passed seemed like it took forever. Even the nights that should have passed in a blur of dreams, I couldn’tremember; they dragged on. I still spent time with them, but it seemed like no matter how many days passed, I was still so far from seeing her divorced. I was so far away from kissing her again. From confessing everything and begging her to let me date her, showing her how much I loved her, and the boys.
Will and Paloma had upped the content on social media, pushing the campaign that they were happy and everyone else should be happy for them. Her parents and his were laughing with them in what looked like a backyard BBQ at the house she was looking to sell. She had told me there was no way she’d be able to stay there knowing they were in that house. She planned to sell and had a realtor scheduled to be there to start the selling process the day the papers were signed. She took immediate ownership as soon as the papers were signed and filed.
Jenson said he’d stay and wait on them so we could get to work for a few hours and then to the house at the end of the day to meet the realtor. Volunteering to be the one to work with her, and spending all of the time as a friend, of course. It was as close to her as I could be before the divorce was final. I was holding myself back by a fucking thread, a very worn thread, ready to snap the closer we got to the final day to sign the paperwork and her freedom.
Tomorrow at eight in the morning. She’d sign the papers, and she’d be a free woman by late afternoon.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure there’d be no sleep for me tonight. When she smiled from where she sat across the table, the twinkle in her eyes, I knew I’d never be able to let her go.
She was bone marrow deep in me, in my heart.
S E V E N T E E N: Her.And him.
Will’s POV
It had been two weeks since we signed the papers, and the waiting period officially ended. We had moved out of the house a few days before that because her lawyer informed mine that, since it would be hers, she was selling to move closer to work. I laughed because she hadn’t had an actual job in years. She just took care of the kids and the house and claimed that was too much and she felt ‘overwhelmed’. I remember laughing with Paloma about it. She wanted to be stubborn and not accept help when it was offered. We had moved into a luxury condo building, and since she wanted to be more focused on child care, she asked if we could get a maid to help with cleaning the apartment and laundry.
Paloma was practical, unlike Sarah, who just pushed through and drowned in diapers and laundry. Paloma still had time and energy for me when I got home from work. Much like tonight. She had dinner on the table, the baby was quiet, and I was happy to come home to her. She always fussed over me. After dinner, she would go feed the baby and put her down for the night so I could have either quiet time or she and I could spend time together. Tonight, I wanted to be left alone in my office. I had to see if what I’d heard about was happening.
I frantically checked the alerts on my phone, and there she was. Herand him. In a fucking news article about up-and-coming entrepreneurs who had wowed the mayor at his wife’s annual end-of-summer party a few weeks ago. I rubbed my eyes again, making sure all of the sleep was really out of them, and this wasn’t some dream I’d fallen into after a long day at work. Lord knows, since we brought Cece home, I hadn’t slept much. The only time Paloma got up at night was when Cece washungry, and even then, she’d just heat the pumped milk and go back to bed. That was the trade-off. I worked and took the night shift, while she cared for her during the day. Or she said I’d have nothing to do with my daughter.
Even though I had to work the next day. Monday through Friday.
I had to be seeing things. There was no way that Sarah, my lazy ex-wife, Sarah, was being featured in the business section. She was a housewife, for fucks sake. A stay-at-home mom. She didnothing. How was she an entrepreneur?! I looked at the photo, and she looked…good, even amazing. She looked like she’d lost weight and gotten a new wardrobe, but the thing that took me most by surprise was how happy she looked. Though the way he looked at her had never changed, not even in the photo.
I read the article, and my jaw hit the floor. There was no way she could have gotten that business up and moving that quickly otherwise. That’s right. I could see what she was doing. She was obviously using him and his connections in the fine dining world. She had always been a leech. This was what she was doing, using the poor bastard now that he was her only option left. That’s why she was succeeding. She was using him. She had to be, right?
I got my answer that weekend. I was taking Paloma out on a date; she and I finally had a free night. Her mother was stepping up and finally being useful instead of crying after that son of hers. She made the reservations for us, said she wanted to drive, because she was treating me. I hated that she thought she was treating me when I knew that I’d be proposing to her at the end of the night. I hope she liked it. I faltered for a split second when she pulled up in front of Silver Spoon. Devereaux owned this place. I wasn’t even sure if I’d be permitted in there. I was probably on the banned wall or something.
When we were shown to our table, I was still cautiously optimistic. Maybe that asshole knew how to be mature about things. Paloma looked good. She had been working hard to get her body back since having the baby, and I was appreciative of that.
Something Sarah never did, I thought to myself, looking over the menu. I was waiting for the waiter when I thought I saw a familiar shade of blonde, the fairest shade, bleached lighter by the summer sun. I stood, looking around like a madman. Was she here? Was she here with him?
“Will?” I heard Paloma’s voice off somewhere in the distance as I scanned the room.
“I’m going to the restroom,” I muttered, setting the napkin down, making a beeline in the direction I saw the hair moving. Maybe it was a waiter or waitress. Maybe it wasn’t her. It probably wasn’t. I had to keep telling myself that. There was no way I could lose my mind thinking I was seeing my ex-wife. Walking into the men's room, I splashed cold water on my face and the back of my neck. There was no way it was her. She wouldn’t be here. Who would be watching those ill-mannered kids of hers?
Wiping my face with one of the paper towels, I went back to the table. Just as the waiter came up and we ordered, the stage in the corner lit up. A woman came on stage and announced the jazz band that would be playing tonight. It was a surprise because they usually had a piano player, and that was it. We had an enjoyable dinner, and I wanted to put her ring in her cake or champagne. I didn’t want it to be sticky, and then she couldn’t wear it right away. It was burning a hole in my pocket, and I couldn’t wait to propose. I had just wiped my mouth, and she was dancing in her seat to the music. I reached my hand into my pocket, getting ready to stand when the music stopped abruptly.
“Sorry for interrupting your night, ladies and gentlemen. But my nephew just proposed to his girl and she said yes. Can we get a round of applause for the happy couple?” The singer motioned to where a couple was embracing, people gathered around them. People started clapping, a few tapping their forks gently against their glasses. I tried, but I couldn’t see them too well, and then I saw it.
I saw the familiar flash of that light shade of blonde. I stood, my heart hammering in my chest, a ringing in my ears. From full height, I could see them. Surrounded by his family and her mother. I could see them smiling together. I watched as he pulled her to him and kissed her like he was always the one who was supposed to kiss her. I hated how easily they looked like they fit together. Someone cleared their throat, and I looked around, seeing that people were looking at me and the tiny box I had in my hand. I got down on my knee, the room falling silent. I looked up at Paloma, who looked like she’d rehearsed this moment.
“Will you marry me? Paloma?” Her smile was tight, forced. She looked pissed, and I had wanted to say more, but everything I’d been thinking had gone right out the window.
“Yes,” she said, trying to sound excited about it. When I slipped the ring on her finger, someone else started speaking through the mic.
“Hello, everyone. Sorry for interrupting your dinners again. I am Devereaux Boone, owner and sometimes chef here.” A few chuckles went around, but most everyone stayed quiet. “This beautiful woman right here just agreed to marry me, and as the owner of this establishment, I think that’s cause for celebrations. I’d like to offer a bottle of champagne to all the tables here right now for this momentous moment. I’ve loved her for fifteen years, and she’s finally mine. I’m the luckiest manhere tonight!” He pulled her in for a kiss as cheers and shouts of congratulations went up all around us.
I asked for the check, dumb struck, staring at the happy couple in front of me, standing on the stage, celebrating with family. The ones who outshone my proposal to Paloma. She wasn’t supposed to move on. She wasn’t supposed to be happy with someone else. And not so soon after our divorce was final! What the hell?! I don’t remember paying or leaving the restaurant. I knew the car ride home was quiet, not for lack of Paloma’s attempts. I just couldn’t muster anything up. I couldn’t figure out how to smile and laugh and be happy when I was too busy thinking about her.
And him.
E I G H T E E N: Three Steps Ahead
Sarah’s POV
The day Jenson handed me the divorce papers, Row had made it abundantly clear that he would not be letting me get away again. He confessed everything to me that night after we met with the realtor. He sat me down in the living room after we put the boys to bed. Both of us were tired, but I’d brought snacks over because I thought we’d be watching a movie like we usually did. I sat on one end of the couch as close to the middle cushion as I could without going over the imaginary middle line that was down it. He came over and sat right next to me.
