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I try hard, but the tears can’t bear it anymore. They flood my cheeks once I’m under the covers.
Smolyakov joins me on his bed, and he lets me cry it out on his shoulders. He was warming up a hot couple all night long, but he ended up coming home with us in the end. I appreciate that he decided to keep me company for the night.
“You should listen to your own advice sometimes,” Smolyakov tells me. He adds a Russian phrase to his statement. I’ve heard him say it to me before, but I’ve never asked what it means. When he speaks his mother tongue, it all clicks. Smolyakov’s image is complete, raw, and real. I wish I spoke my mother tongue, but I was never allowed to learn Mandarin. When I was finally able to decide on my own, I didn’t have the time for it anymore. My work consumed my life.
“You’re worth more than you know. We’ve all done horrid things in our lives. You’re not the first one to feel ashamed.” I sigh. My past is the least of my worries right now, but if I open my mouth and tell him about Jordan, he’s going to throw a fit. “You are loved, and you are badass. I can’t listen to any bitch for as long as you do. I’d rather stuff their mouth with my dick.”
I chuckle into his embrace. I croak out, “Thank you for letting me stay here. Spaziva.”
Smolyakov grimaces at my botched Russian. “Oh my god, stop. Don’t ever say that again. My ears are bleeding!”
My tears dry by the time I’m asleep.
CHAPTERTEN
JORDAN
Felicita’sin a good mood today.
She woke up far too early, and she prepared breakfast for champions. She proudly explains each dish to myex-wife. We sit at a dinner table for ten people, but it’s just the three of us. The palace is full these days, all the houses occupied. Mandy and Weston are taking an extended vacation from Texas, staying in Kamila’s former home.
“I have to make everything myself,” Felicita explains to Aretta. “Kamila has started banning more processed foods. It’s a lifestyle change.”
The women discuss their eating habits. My sister listens with awe as myex-wifeexplains her venture into vegan food. They haven’t met very often, although they’re both women who have altered my life. Felicita insisted on having Aretta sleep in our home for the duration of her stay.
The prospect of proximity should excite me.
I’m sitting next to my ex-wife, one of the most gorgeous women in my world. I hate reducing her to her appearance since she’s so much more than that. Age becomes her. I met her when we were kids. We knew nothing.
Thirty-something years later, and our lives have changed.
If I wanted my ex-wife’s demise, I’d be happy. She’s single again, and I can shoot my shot. We could have another try at our tragic love story.
We’ve grown apart, undeniably so. She’s known as my son’s mother. She doesn’t shy away from the spotlight. She always wanted that life. Who am I to deny her?
I can’t help seeing a former version of myself when I’m in Aretta’s presence. It makes me anxious to think of everything that could’ve been. I’ve been avoiding the sentiment in the years before my grandson was born. I never had to contact her before that. I could reminisce on my ex-wife without facing her. She’d remarried after me, and I had no place in her life. She’d made that very clear.
Now, the baby has forced us to communicate. We send each other messages every now and then. Kamila dutifully records almost everything Kendrick does, and she sends it out to the family overseas.
Nostalgia and guilt govern my everyday life. There are many things that I could’ve done better. An honest job would have helped my relationship. Who wants to be married to a murderer? Aretta didn’t.
My son grew up with a stepfather he loathed because of myjob. 3013. I run my hand over my beanie, and Felicita picks up on the movement. She doesn’t comment on it. She keeps up the lively conversation with my Aretta.
“I have to go to work now,” I tell the women.
“But I thought you took the day off?” Aretta asks. Her voice is like smooth silk. It swathes me. This voice was her career. She never made it to the front of the stage, but you know what they say about background singers. They’re the most talented of the bunch. I loved many things about this woman, but her voice was one of the first things I cherished. She’d won me over with one string of sentences.
Something that I loved so profoundly turned against me a couple of years later.
Four years into our relationship, this voice that I loved wanted out of the cage that I’d built. Our baby was growing more every day. He had needs. I did everything I could so that they didn’t want for anything.
Everything.
Aretta stayed at home after she gave birth, but our home wasn’t what she deserved. I’d confined her to a space so far below her that she’d started withering away. I was never there, and she was alone in a foreign country, away from her family, friends, and career. She had to go to the doctor because she’d started losing the voice that made her who she was.
The moment she regained her strength, the fights started.
For a year, Aretta and I couldn’t speak without an argument. Alex grew restless, throwing tantrums and begging for our attention. She didn’t know about the work I’d started. Travis and I kept it under wraps.
