AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, what was she supposed to do when you manhandled me out of Mario’s? She was concerned about me since I’m a hockey wife.”
“You aren’t a hockey wife,” I bark at her.
“I’m well aware of that,” she screams, and it’s not her normal raised voice that’s suffused with anger and frustration. It’s filled with pain.
She spins away and lunges at her purse she’d set on the kitchen chair. Opening it, she pulls out a T-shirt and whirls to face me. Holding it up, she said, “They gave me a T-shirt tonight.” She points to the pocket. “It says ‘Titan Queens.’” She flips it around and I see on the back it says ‘The real power behind the Titans.’ My chest constricts over the kindness and cramps even further over the cruelty.
She balls it in her fist and shakes it at me. “But I can’t wear it. I’m well aware that I don’t have the right because you took that away from me. You took everything away from me.”
Simone looks down at the shirt, as if surprised to see it in her hand. Then her face screws up in disgust and she marches over to the utility drawer, pulling it open. Out comes a huge butcher knife and she jabs it through the wadded-up cotton shirt and starts sawing at the material. It makes a decent-sized hole. She abandons the knife and uses her hands to rip it all the way to the seams.
She whips it at me, catching me in the chest, and my hands automatically snag it before it drops to the floor.
“Are you happy now?” she cries.
No, I’m not happy. I’m devastated for her right now. She may have done the act of destroying that shirt, but I’m the one who ruined all it stood for.
But maybe… just maybe… Simone will finally give up. Maybe this is the straw that will break her stubborn back and she’ll go home to Vermont. I ignore my soul rebelling at the idea of her moving on, falling in love again, having a family.
It’s what’s best for her.
Simone just stands there staring at me, her chest rising and falling in agitation. I clutch the ruined shirt, afraid to say a damn thing.
I wait for her to come to the conclusion… it’s best that she move along.
Except, it’s not defeat I see dulling her hazel eyes. Instead, they’re cold and calculating. They narrow in on me as if she’s puzzling out a mystery.
Mustering up my most dispassionate, disconnected expression, I wait her out.
“Will you have sex with me tonight?” she asks, and the question is so random and not at all in context with the fight we just had that my jaw drops. I can’t formulate words to answer her.
“No, huh?” Simone pivots on her foot, grabs her purse and phone. “Okay, then… I’m out of here.”
There’s something about the set to her spine and the way her shoulders are tossed back that makes me uneasy. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” But she doesn’t walk out the door, instead cutting up the stairs to the bedroom where she keeps her luggage. She’s still sleeping on the couch to annoy me.
“Out where?” I ask, starting after her. By the tone of her voice, it seems incumbent upon me to find out more.
“Out to get laid,” she says as she disappears into the bedroom.
“Like hell you are,” I bark, taking the stairs two at a time. When I round the corner and enter the bedroom, I see she’s digging through her suitcase. She’s tossed her purse and phone on the dresser.
Holding up a minuscule black dress to observe, she nods her satisfaction and tosses the dress on the bed.
“You are not going out to get laid,” I snap with irritation.
She ignores me and instead kicks off her boots and shimmies out of her jeans. She spares me a glance before pulling her sweater over her head.
When she reaches for the dress, she says, “You don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Van. You want the divorce. You’re the one pushing me away. You’re the one who refuses to touch me. So fine. I’m going to go find someone who will rock my world tonight and then just maybe I can find the strength to leave you.”
Fury such as I’ve never experienced sweeps through me, so intense and overwhelming, my vision dims. My hand flies out, wrapping around the front of Simone’s neck and I walk her backward until she bangs into the wall. I place my other palm beside her head and bend down so my face hovers right before hers.
I make sure she’s got her eyes locked onto mine so she has no doubt about my next words. “Until such time as we’re divorced, you will not touch another man. You’re certainly not going to do it just to punish me.”
To punctuate that proclamation, I tear the dress free from her grip and toss it away.
“You don’t own me,” she whispers. “I can do whatever I want.”
