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A weird one, at that.
We did talk about my love of writing on typewriters. About how the clicking of the keys, the run of ribbon ink against the individual letters, was the sort of atmosphere I enjoyed most about writing. I didn’t just write—it’s theexperience. Like diving into a still lake on a perfect, sunny day.
I tried to explain it to Joel, and he nodded like he understood. Not that he did. Beth doesn’t really get it either.
But now I’m in a new city, with a fiancé—and a big rock on my finger—and I’ve got nothing. No character ideas, no storyline,nothing.
Maybe if I bang my head on the desk, something will come out?
My phone lights up, ringing on silent, and I heave a sigh at the name scrolling across the top of the screen.
Alaina Logan, my divorce lawyer. She’s been a godsend these last few months, working diligently to track down Knox. When she texted me that he had replied with a stupid, handwrittenno, thank youto our latest attempt, I went into the office and had a drink with her.
Becausefuckhim.
So hearing from her out of the blue could either be good or bad, and I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind to deal with either option.
Still, I answer.
“Aurora, glad I caught you.” Alaina is almost always business first, pleasantries second. “You know how we were proceeding with the abandonment?”
I get up from my desk and cross to the window. “Yeah…”
“Well, there’s been a little development. Knox has retained a lawyer who’s arguing that you haven’t been abandoned due to…”
A lump forms in my throat. “Due to what?”
“He’s saying that although you resided in different states, it was only because of his hockey career. He maintains otheraspects of the relationship. Financial. Sexual.” She clears her throat. “And now that you’re living in the same building, it can be viewed as you two reconciling?—”
“Right,” I interrupt. Because all I can think about now is Knox’s lips on my ear. And his hands wrapped around my mouth and throat.
It was three days ago, and I still wake up with my heart pounding, dreaming of his hands on me in other places.
They’re traitorous thoughts.
“He hasn’t, though.”
She’s silent, and my stomach swoops.
“Aurora…” She pauses. “Are you sure? His lawyer is saying there’s a witness of your affections. They’ve offered evidence of financial maintenance, as well. I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is the best course to pursue.”
Fuck.
I flex my fingers, trying to get rid of the nervousness coursing through me. OfcourseKnox would do something to jeopardize my wedding. I never got to do the big affair—the expensive white dress, picking out flowers and colors and bridesmaids, walking down the aisle. Arranging seating charts, caterers, venues, cake. Doing everything with my mother at my side, offering her expert opinion.
In actuality, the list is enormous and never-ending. Not quite how I pictured it as a kid, flipping through bridal magazines.
Not how I pictured it when I married Knox either.
“What can I do?” I force the words to come out evenly, refusing to admit—except to myself—how much Knox continues to mess with me. I haven’t seen him in years, and yet it seems like he’s around every corner.
Outside, the world moves on. Denver is beautiful. I like my condo, the bustle of the city below me. I like my doorman. I like that there’s a pool and a gym in the building. Beth’s apartmentis only a few blocks away, with a million coffee shops and restaurants between us.
It makes me feel a little less lonely to know I’m always surrounded by people.
“I hate to say it, but?—”
I blow out a breath. “You think I should talk to him.”
