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All afternoon, I sulk around my place, looking for a distraction, anything to keep my mind off of Nadia and the annulment I don’t know how to stop.
I close the blinds in the living room and stretch out on the couch like the miserable sap I am.
I try a nap, but I’m too wired. I flip through old movies playing on TV, but I’m in no mood for cheesy romance or fake happy endings. Eventually I boot up my Xbox. It’s been forever since I’ve indulged in some video games, but maybe blowing up some digital jerkwards will make me feel better.
I’m throwing a grenade and stabbing buttons, running in the opposite direction when my phone buzzes.
A tiny thrill shoots through me, at the fleeting idea that it could be Nadia.
I immediately pause my game, but not before I get knifed in the leg. Meh. I wasn’t feeling this anyway.
My face falls when I pick up my phone and see a text from Grammy. Then, I feel like an ass for feeling disappointed. I’m quite pathetic these days.
My grandmother’s text is a sweet one, congratulating me on the team’s latest win and telling me she’s sure I’ll get to play at the next game. The message puts a little smile on my face and leaves me feeling marginally better. I text her back, telling her just that. She replies almost immediately.
GRAMMY: Any updates on your wife?
ME: Sorry, Grammy. Things are no better.
GRAMMY: So, a no go on the reception plans?
ME: Hard no on any parties. Unless annulment parties are a thing?
GRAMMY: Harry Westbrook. You better fix this.
ME: I’ll try my best
GRAMMY: If you need help, me and the girls from the community center would be glad to intervene.
Chuckling, I type out a reply.
ME: I’d bet all of you would
ME: Good night, Grams
GRAMMY: Good night, dearie
I keep Grammy’s offer in the back of my mind, though. With the way things are going, who knows what level I’ll be willing to stoop to next? Delores is pretty ruthless. I’m sure she could cook up a plan to get Nadia to hear me out. It might land me in jail. But for Nadia, it would be worth it.
I wander through the halls, finding nothing to keep my attention. Why the hell did I rent such a big house anyway?
I should stay out of my kitchen with the state I’m in. If I keep stress-eating like I have been, I’ll lose my manly figure and be bumped down to the practice squad in no time. But I’m just desperate to feel better.
I decide to make one of Grammy’s classic family holiday recipes. It’s already close to midnight when I’m pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven. That’s when my doorbell echoes throughout the house.
My brows pinch together. It’s probably Jace or Knox here to give me shit for not answering their dozen phone calls all day. The starters really like to give the second-string players shit for any and every little thing. So damn annoying.
Forcing my butt down the hallway, I move through the living room and swing open the front door with an argument ready on my tongue.
But my lips stutter when I see who’s standing on my doorstep. It’s not Jace. Not even Knox or Maxwell.
It’s Nadia. My heart stutters too at the sight of my soon-to-be lawfully wedded ex-wife.
My eyes dart to her hands, expecting to see her briefcase or a set of legal documents in tow. I’m a little confused when I realize that she’s holding neither of those. She’s not even wearing one of her power suits tonight.
It’s just my Dream Girl, looking frazzled and a little bit afraid, in an oversized wool coat and faded jeans with furry little boots that barely cover her ankles.
No work mask. Just the Nadia I’ve come to know and obsess over.
