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30
Dominic
“This will only take a minute,” Val says as we step off the elevator. It’s late and I can tell she’s tired.
I lug the bag she meant to run over to her condo earlier today—before both our days went crazy—down the hall. “It’s fine. I haven’t been to your place in a while.”
She inserts her key, and the door opens to a stale-smelling apartment. It’s probably a good thing we came here tonight.
“You’ll have to open your windows and light some candles tomorrow,” I say.
She flicks on the lights, revealing her living space. Her place is so much homier than mine. There are purposeful accents to the dark gray and navy that swaths the space. She keeps it feminine with the addition of pinks and yellows and oranges. Pictures of her and Ryder, from a newborn to now, hang on the walls or are set in picture frames on tables, along with pieces of art she probably picked up at street fairs.
I forgot how much I loved her condo. Her view isn’t as great as mine, but it’s not much to complain about either. Her kitchen table has scratches and dents from the wear of a child. Most of all, I like that her condo looks lived in. Mine is more like the MET.
I take her duffle to her room and drop it on the bed, then I head back into the living room and sink into the couch that’s lost a lot of bounce because it sees more wear than mine.
She opens the fridge and slams it shut. “I forgot to clean it out before I left.” She rounds the sofa. “I did find these though.” She cracks open two beers and hands one to me.
We clink the bottles together and each take a sip.
“We should’ve stayed here.” I look around again, still in love with her place.
“You would’ve had to sleep in Ryder’s bed.” She cringes. “He’s fifteen, you know, and from what I gather when I wash his sheets, there’s a lot of spilled milk going on late at night.”
I laugh and put my arm around her to pull her closer. “Yeah, I remember spilling a lot of milk in my bed when I was a teen. Usually when I was thinking of you.”
My lips meet the top of her head. I can’t lie, something has shifted between us since Luca’s wedding. Sleeping together brought us closer, and I have no idea where her head is at. I’m scared shitless to have this conversation with her, but I guess I’m more afraid of walking away tomorrow and never having her in my life again, because I push the fear aside and barrel ahead.
“Can we talk?”
She draws back, sipping her beer. “Sure.”
“We’re supposed to call it quits tomorrow, right?” I ask.
She takes another sip of her beer and then peels away the label on the bottle.
I cover her hands with mine. “Val?”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracks. I hope that’s a sign to say she doesn’t want it.
“Do you want the annulment?” Asking the question out loud feels like someone pointing a loaded gun to my head. I’m sweating along my hairline because this is where the bomb exploded last summer and it all went to shit. Putting myself out there again feels damn near impossible, but what are the chances of history repeating itself?
It was Max’s weekend with Ryder. In the divorce, Val got the house in the Hamptons, and though I was never comfortable there, I went because when push came to shove, I always followed Val. It was either that or let my brothers know we were hooking up by bringing her back to the house we were all renting together.
I was in the kitchen, making breakfast. Pancakes with fresh blueberries that we’d picked up the day before at the farmer’s market. Val was in bed still when I sneaked out to prepare my surprise. I was nervous as hell, but I’d waited patiently all weekend for that moment.
The doorbell rang, and for a moment, I feared it was Ryder, but why would he ring the doorbell? So I trudged along the hardwood floors, opening the door to find her ex-husband, Max.
“What are you doing here?” My eyes zoomed in on the giant bouquet of calla lilies in his hand.
He was close, but Val’s favorite were actually madonna lilies. I’d spent an hour with a florist once, figuring out which ones she’d pointed to on a whim when we were walking through Central Park.
“I could ask you the same question. This was once my house.” He stepped in without me giving him permission. It wasn’t his house, but it wasn’t mine either, so I didn’t put up a fight.
“Was being the key to that sentence.”
“Don’t get too high and mighty. I spent my weekends here fucking her too,” he sneered, looking around as though he did own the place.
