The Convenient Wife

It was too easy for him to see her shell. My father only saw the things he wanted to. He was throwing up a wall before seeing what was on the other side.

She never stood a chance and you know it.

“I love her, that’s all that matters. Not who she is, not where she came from. I love her.”

The words come out of my mouth and I feel them in my body, in my muscles, in my nerves. I feel them all over my body, as if they suddenly became the only thing I needed to live.

Oh my God. . . I love her.

“You don’t know what it takes to love someone, Bolt.” Clenching his jaw, he grinds his teeth. “She doesn’t belong here. We both know that.”

“Says who—you?—or everyone else that’s looking in from the outside?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“All you ever cared about is what everyone else thinks. Maybe you wouldn’t be such a miserable prick if you made a decision on your own for once, and not base it off what it looks like to everyone else.”

Crooking his jaw, my father’s eyes turn to pinpricks. His fists are balled at his side, and I stand my ground, waiting to take whatever it is he’s going to throw at me. I expect him to curse at me, to order me to leave her, to demand that I end it right here and now. He even has this flame in his eyes that makes me wonder if he is going to swing at me.

We are both silent, staring each other down, the energy between us so thick you could cut it with a knife. I’m not backing down, not this time.

“Well?” I ask, my arms open, exposing my chest. Leaning in, I’m almost taunting him to hit me. My chin is out, my eyes are slits. “Come on, say what you have to say.”

“Excuse me,” a man cuts in, disrupting the toxicity that’s building between us. “Mr. Sheckler, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really need you in here.” Holding a clipboard, he moves his eyes to the paper and starts to run his pen from top to bottom. “Your wife made a few changes and I’m not sure where to put the ice sculpture or the sushi bar.”

Nodding his head, my father lifts up his hand, signaling he’ll be on his way. “We’ll finish this little discussion later, but don’t think for a second we’re done.”

Turning his back to me, he flips his fingers at the man to go back into the room and starts for the doors. He never looks back at me. He never tells me exactly what he wants from me. He never comes right out and says it.

I know the next time I see him he’ll tell me what he wants. He’s going to tell me to divorce her. He’s going to expect me to never mention her name again, and hope we can get out as quietly as possible.

What he doesn’t know is that I already have an answer for him.

And he isn’t going to like it.

13

Starla

Rolling onto my back, the sun warms my face and it feels good. From my chair at the pool, I can see the ocean, and feel the salty air as it blows across my cheeks. My skin is sticky from sweat, causing the salt to coat my body like grains of sand.

Grabbing my bottle of sunscreen, I squeeze some into my palm and start to rub it over my legs. The salt is rough against my fingers as I massage the lotion in circles until it’s gone.

The pool isn’t too busy yet, there are a few people, but most of them are walking through and heading for the beach. I’m enjoying the private pool all to myself, so I decide to stay right where I am. It’s quiet and peaceful, the seagulls are singing as they soar high above my head, and the way the waves hit the shore with a calming whoosh makes me relax easily into the white lounge chair.

Everything around me is crisp white, from the chairs to the tables to the long flowing sheer scarfs that dress canopies by the doors.

The wind whips across my face, blowing hair in front of my eyes. With the edge of my nails, I peel the strands away that are stuck to my cheek and forehead, pushing them back behind my ear.

I hope it doesn’t take Bolt too long.

Digging around in my bag, I check the time on my phone. Bolt promised to join me once he’s done helping his father, I just don’t know how long it’ll take. I can’t imagine it being all morning, because it doesn’t seem like his father is the type of man to do anything for himself. I’m sure he has a team of people doing everything for him while he walks through, giving orders and pointing out what they’ve done wrong.