couple of times we tried shower sex, it was a big fat fail. Slippery floors, tiny bathtub/shower combos, plastic shower curtains sticking to wet skin … it’s a recipe for disaster, not sexiness.
But he waits for me, a hungry look on his face when I leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel which he peels off me and captures any stray beads of water with his tongue.
Just thinking about it makes me wet with anticipation and an irrepressible smile on my lips.
I know Delores wants me to at least counter the offer from Bad Wolf, but she’s pretty sure they won’t accept Colt as part of the package. And the thought of presenting him with the divorce papers she took the liberty of preparing for us? It makes me want to puke every time.
I love him. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years, and while it’s possible that what we have won’t last forever, I’m not prepared to throw it away on the basis of one contract. Not when I have another one on the table. And not when I could tell them both to fuck off and really dig into the indie scene with Colt.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have options. Like I’m in control of my destiny. I’m not willing to give that up, not even for a record deal. I’ve already proven that I can do this without them.
And I don’t get why they think Colt would drag me down. Did they not see the same concert footage I did? Because those audiences fucking loved him. They loved us.
And that’s why I can’t take Bad Wolf’s contract. I’m not even sure I want to counter. Why would I want to continue working with someone who’s still trying to dictate my personal life?
Taking a deep breath, I feel immediately more settled. I’ll let Delores know. But first I want to see Colt.
My smile fades when he doesn’t immediately appear. It’s a small apartment, and even if he’s not in the living room, he usually pops out of wherever he’s hiding once he hears the door.
Maybe he’s in the bathroom?
“Colt? I’m home.”
No response. I glance at my phone to see if I missed a text letting me know he’d gone somewhere, but there’s nothing. The lights are off in the bedroom and the bathroom, and he’s not in the kitchen.
Perplexed, I fill a water glass while considering where he might’ve gone. Did he tell me he was going somewhere before I left and I missed it?
Or maybe he just ran to the store to pick up something for dinner and thought he’d be back before I finished my run and that’s why he didn’t text me.
A pile of papers on the kitchen table catches my eye. Actually, it’s the glint of metal next to the pile of papers. A key.
Why is there a key sitting on our table?
Slowly, dread pooling in my gut, I step closer.
The papers lie on top of a pale yellow manila envelope. It’s the divorce papers that Delores gave me. The bottom sheet sticks out, and there next to the sticky flag, is Colt’s signature.
The cup slips from my fingers, spilling water everywhere, and I cover my mouth with my hands, stifling the sob that escapes.
Through the haze of tears filming my eyes, I finally notice the torn corner of notebook paper that he scribbled a note on. Go conquer the world, is all it says.
He’s gone. I don’t need to check the bedroom to know that his clothes aren’t there, that his guitar won’t be in its normal spot in the corner next to mine, that this life we’ve built has vanished in the blink of an eye.
What am I going to do now?
A shower and some food has given me some perspective. While my first reaction was unrelieved grief and panic, I think we can work this out. It was a misunderstanding. He doesn’t realize I never intended to give him those papers. That I was going to take them back to Delores at our next meeting and ask her to shred them. That I didn’t even realize what was in that envelope until I’d left her office. I thought it was my copy of the contract summaries plus the contracts themselves for me to peruse at my leisure while coming to a conclusion—do I counter the contract with Bad Wolf deleting the right of first refusal, the provision that I divorce Colt,