Page 111 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
Fuck, I don’t want to think about this shit. “It doesn’t matter. Courtney and I are done.”
“Are you?”
I grit my teeth together. “I think I’ve made that pretty damned clear, Red.”
“Have you?”
“My attorney’s filed the signed papers,” I grind out. “The only thing that’s left is for a judge to sign off and the divorce is final. I don’t think I can make it any more clear.”
“That’s true enough.”
“Good,” I mutter. “That means I can finally fucking stop dealing with this shit and go to sleep.” Unable to look at her, I undo the buttons of my shirt as I march into the closet, yanking the material off my arms when I’ve finished and tossing it into the hamper. I do the same with my slacks and socks then pull out a pair of sweats and tug them on.
Even though I’m annoyed, I expect Faye to have crawled into bed.
Because I want to hold her.
Want to smell her.
Want to feel the shame go away, the wounds heal over, the goodness come back into my life.
But she’s still standing where I left her, arms crossed around her middle, legs locked, eyes laser-focused on me.
Fuck.
“Let’s go to bed, Faye.” I can’t even pretend it doesn’t sound like I’m begging.
Her lips part on a shaky exhale. “Faye?” she asks. “Not Red?” A beat. “Not baby?”
I rub at the ache in my temple. “It’s late. I’m tired. We’ll figure this shit out later.”
“When?”
“Later,” I repeat.
“When?” she repeats.
And I know she’s just doing what she thinks is right.
But the shame inside me is twisting tighter and tighter, the talons of the past digging deeper and deeper.
So tight it’s threatening to burst free and incinerate everything in its path. So deep it feels as though I’m bleeding out.
“If we can figure this out?—”
That ball of tension explodes out of me, destroying everything in its path.
“Will you fucking leave it alone?” I snap. “I already have one annoying, lunatic of a woman who won’t let shit go in my life. I don’t need another one.”
Her breath catches, those gorgeous brown eyes filling with tears.
“That’s how you want to play this?” she whispers.
I can’t answer her, can’t do anything but stare at her knowing this was always going to happen, that I was always going to do this to her…and eventually, she does what she was always going to so.
She walks out the door.
And the worst part, is I just stand there and watch her go.
