Page 95 of Smoke and Glitter

I stop. Read it again.

You will want to. Come back to the signature.

"She knew," I say into the empty office.

Because I would. I've had versions of that argument in my head for three years. I know exactly where I'd take it if he gave me half an opening. I'd remind him who stopped answering calls. I'd remind him who left me to deal with the debt. And eventually I'd get to Elise. An hour later, I'd hang up knowing exactly how sorry he is or isn't and still have his name attached to mine. Autumn knew that. The next branch is worse.

If he apologizes, do not spend it on making him sorrier. You want a signature, not an apology. Take the signature.

My hand stills on the page. There are things I've wanted to hear from him for three years. Not because I want him back in my life, but because some part of me still thinks there's a combination of words that could make what happened add up differently. There isn't. That hasn't stopped me from wanting them.

The last note is about silence. If he gets upset, let him. Don't rush to fill it. Give him enough room to get himself back to the conversation. When I reach the end, I go back to the beginning. The second time through, I notice the parts that aren't there. Elise's name never appears.

There's nothing about betrayal. Nothing about whether either of us deserves forgiveness. Nothing about what happened to the restaurant we had or the marriage I lost at the same time. Autumn took three years of shit and reduced it to one thing I can actually finish.

Get the signature.

I read the section about the September opening again. She gave me the leverage. Then told me I wouldn't need to use it. I know how to find pressure. I know how to push until somebody moves. If I'd found what she found, I would've made sure he knew I had it. Autumn wrote the threat down so I'd know it existed, then kept it out of my mouth. She gave him a way to say yes without making him defend himself first. I sit there with the pages spread across my desk.

Marisol told me what Autumn did for her. The costume work, the contact, the photos she sent without making a production out of any of it. Same thing. She saw a problem. Found the part that could move. Moved it. Then kept going. This is what people pay her to do. I didn't ask her and I sure as shit didn't pay her. She did it anyway, brought me the finished answer and asked me to let her help.

I told her no and chopped her at the knees.

For weeks I've been thinking about the things Autumn asked me for and everything I couldn't give her. Now I'm looking at what she gave me without being asked. That thought can take me somewhere I don't need to go tonight. I go back to the script instead.

You will want to. Come back to the signature.

I pull my phone closer. His number is still on the screen. Three years. That's how long I've managed not to hear his voice. My thumb hovers over the call button. Then I look at the page.

You open with this.

I press it. He answers on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

For half a second, nothing comes out of me. Then he says my name.

"Sam?"

My grip tightens around the phone. His voice hasn't changed enough. Three years, and my body still recognizes it before I do. I look down at the page.

"I'm calling about the company."

Silence.

"The company?"

"The old LLC. It was never fully dissolved."

"I thought that was handled."

My mouth opens. I can already hear what wants to come out.

You thought.

You thought a lot of shit was handled when you walked away. My eyes drop to the page.

Do not argue about whose fault it was. You will want to. Come back to the signature.