Page 52 of The Husband I Left

“Not my problem.”

“Everything in this place is your problem,” Leo replies. “You need to get it together, man.”

I decide to try ignoring him. Maybe he’ll go away then.

“You know what I think?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I think at this point you’re just sulking because you lost. You need to stop creeping on your ex-wife’s Instagram and get your life back on track. You’re Oliver Sinclair, for God’s sake. You need to start acting like it.”

I finally glance over at him. “You think you know me that well?”

“I know you better than anyone except possibly your own mother, and I’m way better looking than she is, although if you tell her I said that I will deny it.” Leo tilts his head. “This is all beneath you. The endless moping. The whiskey before noon. She’s moved on. It’s time you did, too.”

I almost tell him to get out, but the door swings open again before I can. Victoria enters with a face like a storm cloud, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, heels clicking on the floor. She’s carrying a to-go cup of coffee, which she slams down on my desk with enough force to make the liquid slosh over the rim.

She scowls at the mess, and then turns to glare at me, making no effort to wipe the spill up. “You have a call with Acton Capital in an hour,” she says. “I suggest you try to look less like a haunted scarecrow before then.”

Victoria notices Leo and turns towards him. “Why is he here?” She asks, hands on her hips.

“I’m his emotional support lawyer,” Leo says sweetly.

Victoria snorts before turning and walking out of the room, shutting the door hard enough to make me wince.

Leo watches her go, one eyebrow raised. “Remind me again why you haven’t fired her yet?”

I reach for the coffee, take a sip, and grimace. It’s cold and bitter.

“Penance,” I set the cup aside.

“Penance,” Leo repeats incredulously. “So, what, you’re punishing yourself by keeping around a woman who clearly hates you and does a terrible job?”

I shrug. “Seems appropriate.”

After the scene with Victoria that day in my office, I didn’t expect to ever see her again. I didn’t want to ever see her again. But when she showed up for work as usual the following Monday, I belatedly remembered that I had never actually gotten around to firing her. She’d stormed into my office, demanding to speak with me. I’d expected her to quit or threaten a lawsuit. Instead, she insisted that I’d misread her intentions, that whatever had existed between us was old news, that she had absolutely no interest in me, and that she had no intention of leaving her position. It was…completely at odds with reality. But I also didn’t care enough to fight her on it.

So now we exist in this strange place where she does the bare minimum of her job, infusing every interaction with as much hostility as possible, and I let her. Because somewhere in my whiskey soaked brain, it feels like something I deserve.

“Well, that’s not completely unhealthy or anything.”

I rub my temples. “What do you want, Leo?”

He gets serious, or as close as he ever comes. “I want to know if you’re really planning on sulking for the rest of your natural life, or if you’re going to get off your ass and start living again.”

I stare at him. “What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know, maybe take up a hobby? Get laid? Shower? Hell, you could even just try firing your terrible assistant and doing the bare minimum of your job every day. Anything but this.” His gesture encompasses the entire mess that is currently me.

Instead of responding, I stand up and walk back over to the window. “You know what the worst part is?” I ask. “She didn’t want anything from me. In the divorce, I wanted to make sure she was taken care of. I offered her money, either a payout or alimony of a sort, enough that she could have been set up for life. She wouldn’t take it. She didn’t want anything from me.” I repeat.

Leo is quiet for a moment. Then he says softly, “What you mean is, she didn’t want your money. And that’s all you offered her.”

“Isn’t there someone else you can go bother?” I fire back, tired of talking about it. I know Leo is right. Genny said as much to me at our last meeting. She wanted me to offer myself to her. I just don’t know how to do that.

“I’m beginning to think you and Victoria deserve each other,” Leo mutters. He shifts gears then, his tone lightening. “Look, if she really doesn’t want anything from you, then there’s no use moping about it, right? Might as well move on. My buddy Scott is throwing a party. Come with me. I know a few of the women he’s invited and—“

I whirl around before I even realize I’m moving. “I don’t want to move on,” I snap, my voice rising to a volume that startles even me. “I don’t want to meet anyone else. I don’t want to ‘get it together.’ What I want is for you to leave me the hell alone!”

Leo looks genuinely taken aback by my outburst. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright. Just trying to help.”

But I’m past being reasoned with. A red haze of anger and grief is clouding my vision. I grab my suit jacket from the back of my chair and storm toward the door.