Chapter4
Ethan
“Where are you going?” I chase down my wife as she walks down the hallway, locating her purse and slinging it over her shoulders.
“Out.”
“What do you mean out? You’ve barely been home all day.”
“Well, I’m meeting up with some friends, and we’re going to grab some drinks.”
“Monica, this has to stop.”
She spins to face me. “No. Your nagging needs to stop. I’m allowed to go out. I’m allowed to have fun, Ethan.”
“But what about our son? He needs his mom.”
She shakes her head. “He’s little. He’ll never remember me being gone.”
“Yeah, but I will. We’re supposed to be a family.”
“That’s what you wanted, Ethan, when you begged me to have this baby. But now…” She bites her lip. “I’m not sure I want to be a part of this family anymore. I’m too young, and there’s too much life for me to live still.”
“You mean you want to party.” As I stare at the woman I’ve done nothing but try to do right by, I realize it may be time to admit defeat. This pattern has only progressed since Oliver was born, and she keeps pushing my limits. I barely feel like we’re married anymore, like she doesn’t care about being in my life or our son’s.
“I want to live. All we do is stay home, take care of the baby, and fight. You don’t even touch me anymore.”
“It’s hard to touch you when you’re always gone!” I shout a little too loudly, glancing back down the hallway, hoping that I didn’t just wake up our son. But honestly, I can’t remember the last time Monica and I were intimate. It’s been months, and Oliver is already two.
“Because this life isn’t enough for me! I want more. I…I want a divorce.” She heads for the door as her confession strikes me square in the chest, but I chase after her one more time.
Her admission only fuels my rage. “If you leave, Monica, I will fight you for custody. I’m not going to let you just walk in and out of our lives when you want or wait for you to change your mind. Make sure this is your decision, and you can stick to it…that this is really what you want.”
She backs up in her steps as she steps out of our door. “I’m done, Ethan. You can have everything. I just want out.” And then she hops in her car and drives away, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of the life I thought she wanted.
“Ethan?” My secretary pulls me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Just lost in thought.” I scramble to find my phone on my desk and see there are no notifications that need my attention right this minute.
“Okay.” She smiles. “Well, the Nelsons are in the first conference room, ready when you are. Her lawyer is a pistol, just an FYI.”
I stand, buttoning up my jacket as a wave of collectiveness comes over me again. “Well, so am I, so let the games begin.”
As I walk into the conference room, ready to represent my client, I realize it’s been almost three years since I was in this situation myself, and I can still remember how exhausting these proceedings can be. Luckily for me, my ex-wife didn’t care to fight me in any aspect. But for those that do, I try hard to remind them to do what’s best for all involved. The worst cases though are when one party was unfaithful. Those discussions always include elements of revenge, and usually, it’s the kids that get used as pawns.
Well, not today. Today, we’re going to act like civilized adults and get this divorce moving forward as quickly as possible so everyone can move on with their lives.
Sometimes that’s the only part of my job that reminds me that what I do is worth it. I give people a fresh start, a chance to find happiness without someone that makes their lives a living hell.
I was given that opportunity, and I feel other people deserve the same.
Suddenly, a blur of blond curls catches my eye in the window, bouncing as she walks by casually on her way to her office, stopping me in my tracks and reminding me that thoughts of my ex aren’t the only distraction plaguing me right now.
Amelia St. Clair has been an unwelcome wrench in my plan at this new location, a move that was not only necessary for my living situation but also to give me the chance to expand the practice I’m a part of. The partners at my firm were more than understanding when I explained my need to relocate to Los Angeles, and one of my associates decided to make the move with me as well.
But having a marriage counselor across the complex from us was not a detail I was considering as a possible obstacle we would face. Additionally, it doesn’t help that the woman is beautiful, intelligent, well-spoken, fiery as fuck, and my old college friend’s sister.
Making metaphorical flames shoot out of her ears has been one of the highlights of my day any time we cross paths. I feel like I’m back in high school, and the uptight girl that needs to be knocked down a peg or two is lurking around every corner, and I am more than eager to see how fast I can get under her skin. Even back then, I was impeccable at getting a reaction from girls, and now I feel the same challenge with Amelia.
And even as I explained to her, having her nearby might actually help my business in the long run.
But it certainly isn’t helping my dick remember how long it’s been since he’s been taken care of by something other than my hand.
Being a single father hasn’t afforded me much time to tend to my personal needs, if you catch my drift. But hopefully, having my mother nearby now will help alleviate some of those challenges and allow me to find someone to scratch my itch.
But why does my mind instantly conjure up the image of Amelia dragging her nails down my back when I think about that?
Shaking off the irritating attraction I feel for her, I watch her unlock her office door and go inside, making sure I take a few moments to appreciate the curves of her ass and hips before they disappear. She may have her heart in the right place when it comes to helping people, but I’ve seen too many instances in my line of work to know that most marriages are better off dissolving before someone ends up on Snapped. Some people just aren’t meant to be together. Some people just aren’t meant to be married.
And I sure as hell know after my experience, that’s the last thing I fucking want again.
However, wondering what Amelia tastes like in other places than just her lips has me forgetting why I’m here. I’m moving on, progressing in my profession, and picking up the pieces of my life and putting them in place where I need them to be—and none of those pieces involve a curly-headed blonde with temptation written all over her.
Amelia needs to remain in the box of untouchable thoughts I like to keep somewhere far in the recesses of my mind, and even though I know I should leave her alone, the teenage boy in me is thoroughly enjoying watching her react to every little thing I say or do. Little does she know, the plan to get her next reaction has already been set in motion.
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