Dear Luca Martín,
This letter confirms that you (the “Client”) retain Brown, Pitt, and Yoon Family Law (the “Attorney”) to represent you in your divorce proceedings. Please review the terms below; your signature will serve as our formal agreement.
My heart pounds as I search for a date. July 10.
Seven days before our anniversary.
I push back and stand, staring down at the words until they blur together.
I was going to leave Emery, or at the very least, I consulted an attorney because I was considering it.
My stomach recoils at the idea, but my heart… it aches like a broken bone, one that’s been badly set and healed so the pain never really goes away.
Reaching for my phone, I text Crash and ask where he is.
An hour later, the door opens. “Yo,” calls a deep voice.
“Crash?” I reply from the bedroom.
“Yup. Sorry it took so long.”
By the time I make it to the kitchen, he’s already rummaged through the cupboard and has half a cookie in his mouth.
“It’s fine. Thanks for coming over.”
“No problem. Before I forget, we won the bid on the pool landscape for the Anderson place. It’s a big job, so I might need to hire on a few temps.”
“Actually, I want to come back next week.”
He looks unsure. “The leg’s good?”
“It’s fine, yeah.” I’m not a hundred percent sure that’s true, but I do know I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing.
“Well, that’s awesome.” Crash walks as he types out a text. “How was the second honeymoon? I brought your truck over, by the way. It’s in the garage and keys are on the hook.” Tucking his phone in his pocket, he stops in front of the desk. Every file is open, every random piece of paper or notebook spread out on top of it. He looks up at me from the chaos. I can only imagine what I look like: eyes tight, expression bordering on frantic. “Everything okay, man?”
“I don’t know.” I’ve tried to call Emery a half dozen times, but every time it goes straight to voicemail. I left two messages telling her to call me back.
Not that I have any idea what to say.
Does she know? Had I talked to her about it? Maybe we worked things out… but is it possible she’s keeping me in the dark about this, too? That doesn’t feel true, but it’s possible.
Perhaps sensing the mood and the quiet in the house, Crash glances around. “Where’s Em?”
“She had to go into work.” Honey is curled up, sleeping in front of the door to the garage, waiting for Emery to come home, too. “I have to ask you a question.”
He pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and spins it around, sitting in it backward like a dumbass. “Shoot.”
“Was I going to leave her?” I suspect that if I was, Crash definitely knew, was maybe even hinting at it when I asked him if Emery and I were happy. When he doesn’t immediately respond, I know I’m right.
“Luca,” he says, and like a reel on fast-forward, I’m inundated with another flash of memories.
Crash and I getting in a fistfight together.
Getting thrown out of a bar together.
Clinking glasses and celebrating our first job as business partners.
“Fuck,” I say, gripping the edge of the counter, feeling lightheaded.
