Eligible Ex-husband - Marie Johnston Page 0,47
Simon looks at me makes me feel like I’m wearing an evening gown that compliments my curves instead of exaggerating them, when instead I have on pink fabric shorts that match my headband and an old white T-shirt.
“How was your day?” He’s sincere.
“Good. Errands and stuff. Nothing earth-shattering.”
“That’s always nice.”
While he was at work, managing millions and millions of his clients’ dollars and networking with the firms he invests in, I was running to Target, the grocery store, and taking the car in for an oil change. The afternoon was full of putting groceries away and quiet time for all of us. What I did is nothing like what Simon does all day, but he never treated me like I’m lesser for it.
I have friends who stay home and their spouse makes only a fraction of what Simon brings in, but they act like they get to dictate everything that happens in the home while claiming they don’t have to lift a finger because that’s the job of the person at home.
Simon considers us partners. It’s why it hurt so much when it seemed like he forgot about us entirely, when he assumed that his job was critical to keep our home life the way it was.
I love our house, but if his job went through some tough years, I’d downsize in a heartbeat. As long as we’re all together. But Simon refuses to go backward in life and that includes keeping everything we worked for. I hope his bachelorhood is firmly in the past.
He shifts in his chair and sets his beer down. The glass clinks ominously on the top of the patio table. “I, uh, got a request for an interview. A few actually.”
“For what?”
“That article.”
Oh. Hatred sweeps through my veins like a summer drought, turning all my warm fuzzies into tinder. Simon and I are working on us. Why do I still hate that article and any reference of it?
Because he’s not eligible. He’s mine.
My hand tightens around my own beer. If I set it down, I might crack it or the table. “What do they want to talk to you about?”
“Probably another interest piece. Word of it made the rounds and the local news wants to talk to me and a few of the local magazines would like a feature.” The corners of his jaw flex. “I can’t say no. It’d look bad for business. But I have to know what I can say. About us.”
Simon
I play it cool, waiting for her answer. My fingers are folded across my stomach to keep from fidgeting and I keep the hopeful tone out of my voice.
I act like I’m negotiating a contract.
Comparing my marriage to boardroom discussions leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I also recognize how fragile our relationship is at this point.
“Us?” Natalie looks away, her expression deep in thought. “Why would we be any of their business?”
“Because my single status was the point of the whole article.” That and my wallet. I should’ve never done it. Helena had a point about the free advertisement and getting my name out there to a new audience.
I’m at the precipice of cashing in on that fame. I’ve already accepted the interviews because I’d look like an elitist ass who didn’t help local entrepreneurs. I stock their magazines in my office and page through them on my way out the door. This is my chance to do more for them while also getting Gainesworth Equity in front of potential clients, or promising companies seeking investors.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “I just told Mom and Dad. Do you think we’re ready to tell the whole world?”
“It’d only be the Fargo viewing area.”
She rolled her eyes toward me. “The girls don’t even know.”
“We can talk to them.”
“They’re too young to understand,” she says in a definitive tone.
Don’t I get a say? “I don’t think they are.”
“You weren’t the one answering questions about why you weren’t here. Or why you weren’t around Christmas morning. You weren’t drying their terrified tears when they thought there were monsters in their room but you weren’t here to save them.”
Her points were each heartbreaking, but she’s forgetting one thing. I sit forward, my elbows on my legs. My voice shakes with repressed emotion. “I had my own times when I was calming them in the middle of the night because they’re in a new place and you’re not there. They’ve cried on my shoulder about us being apart too.”
Fleeting emotions run through Natalie’s