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He talks more about his parents, because they are important to me. I spend Saturdays with them, getting to know one another better, and accepting they’re my parents. Caitlyn Brooks will always be my mom, but there’s enough love in my life for them.
“Hey, do you have a second?” he asks, pointing to the outdoor space, in the backyard. I stand, heading that way. “Hey guys, give your dad and I a second to talk.”
They settle on the couch, turning on an anime episode both kids are watching together.
I stand near the outdoor furniture. “What’s up?” I ask.
He slides his hands into his lightweight jacket. It’s November, but he’s always hated heavy jackets.
“I think maybe it’s time to get lawyers. I think the sooner we can have a clean break, the better it will be for the kids.”
I’m not surprised, not in the least, but it doesn’t hurt any less.
“No.” I answer.
“This is happening, Ash, whether you want it or not. I don’t need your permission.”
I point to the door leading back into our house. “Then go. Break up our family. Be the asshole who breaks those kids’ hearts.”
He steps closer to me. “Go!” I yell. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m telling you right now, I’ll never sign your fucking divorce papers.”
He tries to step forward, closer to me, and as he gets within reach, I push him away. “Get the fuck out of my face.”
He retreats, and both kids’ attention is on us outside. He leaves without another word. I pick up the phone, canceling my meeting with the dean. I can’t function. I can’t think. I move into the kitchen, grabbing the tequila I use in my margaritas. Tonight, I don’t need anything else but this fucking bottle.
* * *
Has it been an hour?Two hours? I don’t fucking know. I drink from the bottle of Patron. I’m watchingFifty First Dates, but Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler are starting to look blurry. Not sure if that’s the patron or my TV.
The phone rings. It’s Noah. I send it to voicemail. It rings again, and it’s Noahagain. I’m sending it to voicemailagain. At the third call, I figure I should answer it in case it has something to do with the kids.
“Hello, asshole. Want to break my heart some more?” I ask. My words are slurred.
“You’re dating? You have the audacity to react the way you just did, and yet you’re dating someone?”
I have had a lot to drink. I have to think hard. “I’m not dating anyone, asshole. And like it would be your business, after asking me for a divorce.”
Did he hang up? I’m about to end the call, but his voice booms through the line.
“What were you doing tonight, that you canceled our family dinner?”
I laugh through the phone. “We’re not a family, not anymore.” I end the call and pass out on the couch.
Am I unlocking the door? Why is the door opening? I guess when you drink half a bottle of tequila, you can’t expect to really know what’s going on.
“Ashton?” I hear the voice. I know his voice, but I can’t open my eyes to see him. “Noah?” I call out with my eyes closed.
“Hey, I’m here.” His hand is on my cheek. It feels so cold. And I feel so hot. “How much did you drink?” His fingers move to my forehead.
“I only had a little bit. Just a little bit.”
His smirk makes me want to fully open my eyes and tell him to never leave me.
“I find that hard to believe. Come on, honey, let’s get you into bed. The kids are staying at Mom and Dad’s, so let me make sure you don’t drink yourself to death.”
He attempts to pull me up, but I’m limp. “And you can’t call me honey. If you ask for a divorce, you can’t call me honey, asshole.”
“Duly noted, honey. Let’s get you in bed.”
