The Convenient Wife

Pulling the ring off her finger, she throws it at my feet. I hear it as it bounces off the floor and rolls into the hall. Slamming the door in my face, I’m left standing in the hall with clothes strewn around my feet like a pile of leaves.

I’m a fucking asshole. I never meant to hurt her this way.

This was supposed to be an easy plan. It was supposed to be simple. I just never thought about how it might affect her. All I cared about was what I wanted. All I saw was what I would lose if I didn’t do this.

Now I lost the one and only thing that has ever mattered to me.

What I wanted in the beginning, and what I want now are two totally different things. Starla had become the air I need to breathe, the oxygen I need flowing through my veins, the blood I need beating through my heart.

I don’t care right now about the business or the money, all I care about is fixing my mistake. Except, how do I fix someone who is broken?

How do I fix what I did when the wounds aren’t visible on the outside?

Starla isn’t an embarrassment or a humiliation; Starla is a goddess, she is an angel sent to brighten my world.

I need to fix this because I’m not ready to let her go.

Standing at the front desk, I tap my fingers against the counter. “Hi, I need to rent another room.”

“Let me see what I have available.” The woman starts tapping away on the keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen.

“Bolt? Bolt is that you?”

Looking over my shoulder, my Aunt Denise is standing behind me, with a huge smile on her face. She looks the same, as if she hasn’t aged in the ten years since I saw her last.

Her hair is still jet black, her lips are covered in her signature red lipstick, and she has long dangling earrings that reach the tops of her shoulders. The only thing I notice is there are more wrinkles around her eyes as they scrunch up with her smile, and the skin on her hands is thinner, showcasing the deep blue veins under the surface.

“Aunt Denise, how are you?”

Throwing out her arms, she comes walking at me quickly and has me in a hug before I can stop her. Pulling herself off, she holds the outside of my arms and kisses each of my cheeks.

“Look at you, you’re all grown up. And what a man you’ve become.” Taking a step back, she grins. “Let me get a good look at you.” Pinching my shirt, she pulls one arm away from my ribs as she runs her hand down my shoulder, smoothing out my shirt. “A few wrinkles here and there, but you look nice, Bolt.”

“Thanks, I guess.” With an awkward smile, my brows fold down. “When did you get in?”

“Late last night.” Her smile thickens as she dips her head and peers up. “So, what’s this I hear about you getting married?”

Ah shit, it’s out.

“Dad told you already?”

“Actually, it was your mother, which is surprising, but you know your father. He won’t talk to me about stuff like this. Even when we were kids he always kept things so personal.” My aunt looked behind me, letting her eyes dance around the room. “Well, where is she? I want to meet this mystery girl.”

“She’s uh, she’s up in the room.”

“Sir, I have a room available for you.” The clerk hands me the key card and slides a paper across the desk. “Just sign here for me.”

Signing my name, I slide it back and look at my aunt. “She’s actually not feeling well, some sort of stomach thing. We’re being cautious, don’t want to go getting everyone else sick too.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her. I hope she feels better by this evening.” Slapping my arm lightly, she leans in and whispers. “Your mother didn’t sound very happy, so forgive me if this little rebellious act of yours makes me excited.”

My mother and my dad’s sister have never gotten along. I was told there’s a story behind their little tiff, but no one wants to talk about it. All I was ever able to get out of my father was that he had been dating my aunt’s best friend, he met my mother, and the rest is history.

Whatever the details are, my aunt doesn’t like my mom, and my mom doesn’t like her. They’ve coexisted through the years, walking side by side, but never crossing paths. I think the only reason my mother ever tells her anything at all is because she feels it’s her responsibility to.

“I need to get going, not much time left to get ready.” Tapping my new key card against the center of my palm, I start in the direction of my new room. “See you tonight.”