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A reply bounces right back.
Hartley:
Oh, I trust you implicitly. It’s her I don’t trust.
I can’t disagree with her on that.
Me:
I’ll fill you in later.
She’s having dinner with her parents but she’ll be driving out to my place tonight, because we both love spending more time out on the farm than in town. And I love the fact that I have her to look forward to when I’m done with this. Hopefully I’ll be unmarried by then.
Hartley:
Ok. Remember, if you need rescuing, just let me know. I’ll send the cavalry in
I chuckle. The cavalry being Celeste, my brothers and Hudson, leading the charge would be Georgia, of course.
Me:
I think I can handle it. But thank you. I don’t plan on being home late
Hartley:
I’ll keep the bed warm for you ??
Me:
That sounds good ??
I take the short drive to town and park in the lot. I wanted to arrive earlier than planned so I could pick the table closest to the karaoke machine, but as I pull in, I see her Mercedes parked in the lot across from me.
Fantastic.
I pull my jacket on and tuck my phone into my back pocket along with my wallet. I also take the divorce papers, fold them over and shove them in my other pocket with a pen.
If she even starts with me about anything other than signing those damn papers, I’m outta here.
When I arrive inside, I walk to the bar and order myself a beer.
I glance around. The place is already jiving with music and people are boot scooting on the dance floor.
I don’t even bother to hide my smile.
“Grayson,” I hear the voice that I never thought I’d learn to loath.
Turning, I face Keira as she holds a glass of wine. I’d like to say she looks terrible, but I’d be lying. She’s always been an attractive woman. If I’m being picky, I can see the dark circles under her eyes she’s tried to cover up. I guess that’s what happens when you spend your every waking moment plotting someone's demise. It doesn’t leave time for little things, like sleep.
“Keira,” I reply, my tone muted.
She tries to slide into my arms for a hug, it’s awkward and I wince as I smell her floral perfume. It brings back so many memories, good and bad, but mostly bad. I used to love this scent, but now it just brings back all the lies, deceit and deception. Everything we had was a lie.
“I know you’re stand-offish after that last phone call,” she says, pulling back as she studies me. “Things didn’t end well, but I know you were just letting off steam. Separations are hard.” As if I needed reminding.
I fucking meant every word, and there was a lot more I didn’t say.
“So are divorces,” I mutter as the bartender hands me my drink and I pay.
