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I want to curl up my fist and punch something. Hard.
Chapter 17
Mila
We step out of the courthouse with Isaac between us, clad in a little suit. We stand at the steps and wait for Brad’s attorney. I feel as if there’s a wedge between us, and I don’t know the cause of it. It started this morning as we were getting ready to leave the house, and Brad got a call from his friend Collins.
Afterward, I’d caught him staring at me, and he’d been distant. I tell myself it’s the awkwardness of the day. The ceremony, if you can call it that, was nothing like my first marriage. It was all business, and although I know our marriage is fake, I wouldn’t have minded a little pomp.
“Can we go for pizza?” Isaac asks.
“Sure,” Brad and I say at the same time. We exchange a look and smile.
“Congratulations,” Brad’s lawyer says, joining us. He and Isaac are the only ones who looked like they’re in a celebratory mood.
“Shall we?” Brad says, and we walk to the parking lot.
The ride in the car is quiet. When we reach the pizza place, Brad helps Isaac to change into casual clothes I’d packed. Then we walk in, a man in a light blue suit and a woman in a pretty pink dress and a flower on her hair. I feel ridiculous and overdressed.
“I’ll go and play before the pizza comes,” Isaac says and runs off. There’s silence when he goes, and it’s not the comfortable silence that I’m used to with Brad.
“What is it?” I ask him softly. “You’ve not been yourself since morning.”
He glances away and then back at me as if wrestling with whether to tell me or not. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a big shot artist?” he blurts out.
I inhale sharply. I never expected this, and it takes a moment to register in my brain that Brad knows what I do.
I decide to tell him the truth. “I haven’t painted in a while,” I tell him. “I’ve had painter’s block since the day Clay walked out on our marriage. I came to LA to give myself a break from the pressure of painting.”
The hard look is gone from his face. He’s going back to the Brad I know.
“I didn’t want to talk or think about painting. I wasn’t keeping it away from you. Honestly. It was about me and wanting to leave it behind me for a while.”
He reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m sorry for being upset. I should have known that you wouldn’t keep something like that from me deliberately.”
We sat smiling at each other, the wedge between us gone.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Brad says.
“Wife of Mr. Bennett,” I say.
We burst out laughing. Then something strikes me, and I turn to him. “How did you find out?”
Brad changes immediately. He shifts in his chair and refuses to meet my gaze.
“Brad?” I say when he doesn’t answer my question.
“Collins has contacts with the police, and I gave him your name to check you out.”
Horrified does not begin to describe how I feel at this moment. My jaw drops. I go from disbelief to red hot anger. “How dare you?” I hiss.
“I had to know, Mila. For Isaac’s sake.”
“You could have asked me.” I can barely open my mouth enough to let the words out. I sit back and cross my hands across my chest.
“Mila…” Brad begins. I shut him up with a look.
We sit silently until our food comes. Isaac joins us, and we’re forced to smile, but my face feels like one stiff block of skin. The pizza tastes like cardboard.
Isaac plays for another half hour, and then he’s ready to leave. The anger has ebbed away, and all I feel is sadness. The melancholic feelings are overwhelming me. I desperately need an outlet. At home, I practically leap from the car.
“I need some time,” I mumble to Brad and then kiss Isaac on the head. I didn’t need to make an excuse to Isaac. He won a toy truck in some game at the play area, and he’s eager to test it out.
I don’t feel any better when I finally close the front door of my rented house and lean on it. Tears gather in my eyes, and I allow them to fall. Something I’d promised myself I’d never do for another man.
I trudge to my studio in the attic, grab my sketchbook, and curl myself on a couch. I dabble on it, not quite drawing anything but shapes that look like something out of a horror movie. I sit and brood like this until the room is enveloped by darkness. As I sit there, a sudden realization comes over me. Brad did exactly what I’d have done given the circumstances. This is his son we’re talking about. He has to do everything he can to keep Isaac safe. Guilt floods me when I remember how angry I was. I glance at the time. Half-eight. It’s too late to tell Isaac goodnight.
