Dare To Love Again

* * *I’d barely left the shower a half an hour later when my phone rang on the bedside table where I’d thrown it. From the readout, I saw that it was Silas calling and guessed correctly that he had some news for me. “What have you found?”

“The IP address comes back to someone on the Winthrop estate.”

“The Winthrop estate? Who’s that?”

“I thought you might know. As far as I can tell, it’s the estate of the late Sterling Winthrop, the big shot architect; guy’s been gone for a while, but his widow still lives there. I haven’t got anything more than that so far. Right now, we’re trying to get a list of all the people who either live or work on the estate to see if we can narrow it down that way.”

I tried to remember if Giselle had ever mentioned anything about the name before but drew a blank. “Okay, keep me posted.” I hung up the phone deep in thought. Sterling Winthrop, I knew the name, of course, the man’s name is on half of the important buildings in and around the city, not to mention his accolades are still talked about in some circles even though he’d died when I was a child.

But what could his estate or anyone working there have to do with my wife? Ex-wife! Nothing about this was making any sense, and her resistance to tell me shit about what the hell was going on only compounded my frustration. I keep thinking about the fact that it appears that she hadn’t left me for another man, something that had torn into me when she was gone, but even knowing that wasn’t enough to satisfy me. I refuse to let it be enough. I want answers.

I didn’t look too closely at why that should be. Why I should still care after all this time. The truth is that I could use my money and connections to take my son away from her and kick her out of our lives, but even as mad as I am at her, and without my mother’s threats, I still can’t bring myself to do it.

I hate like hell to admit this to myself after all this time, but I think I might still be in love with her, that I never really got over her. That I’ve been lying to myself this whole time, and I know exactly when I realized it, sap that I am. It was earlier today when Dana was here, the look on Giselle’s face when Dana implied that she and I had grown close after the divorce.

I didn’t like that haunted look on Giselle’s face, didn’t like seeing anyone else hurt her but me; that’s my job. I’m the one she’d betrayed no one else. And just thinking that shit pissed me off again. I seem to be on a constant rollercoaster ride of up and down emotions, always circling back to my anger and what I once thought was hate for my ex.

“What the hell am I going to find out now?” I need to have something to focus on—some viable reason to hate her for the mess she’d made of my life. But now, since meeting the PI, my mind can’t help but to wander to what-ifs. What if she had a legit reason for running away? Though I’m hard-pressed to see what that could be. Nothing is adding up to what I once believed.

And I can’t believe that in just a matter of a day or two, she has me second-guessing myself. No way am I going to let her back in. I’ll fuck her, get another son or daughter off of her, but that’s as far as it goes. As far as I’m concerned, she owes me the kid since I don’t plan on ever getting married again thanks to her.

I felt better with the thought and went about getting dressed to go start another round of torturing my ex. Maybe I’ll invite Dana to dinner just to get under her fucking skin for defying me again. I ignored the little voice in my head that told me that it was a dick move. She’s getting off easy as far as I’m concerned. I could bring home another woman and take her to my bed while she’s here.Calen“Mom, what are you doing here?” It’s not like my mother to show up unannounced, but I got my answer when I saw my dad coming through the door behind her. I’d forgotten that he was due back today. “Where’s my daughter in law? Where’s my grandson?”

“It’s nice to see you too, dad.” I couldn’t help the proud smile that crossed my face at the man who looked so much like me, or me like him at the mention of my son.