When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,89

shudders and opens the refrigerator, scanning the items inside. He grabs the orange juice and pulls it out, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

I give Xander a horrified look. “Remind me to never ever drink the orange juice under any circumstances.”

Cade closes the bottle and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “You might want to avoid the milk too.” He winks before heading from the room.

“Ew,” I groan, and reach for the only thing on the table that’s acceptable for throwing; I toss the orange at him and it hits him square in the back.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that,” he calls back.

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “Maybe our own place wouldn’t be so bad.”

Xander smiles. “All you have to do is say the word.”

“Are you always going to put the ball in my court?” I ask him.

“Well, yeah, you’re the bossy one in the relationship.”

I bust out laughing. “Is that so?” He nods, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Eh, I guess you’re right,” I say after a moment.

He chuckles. “I like that you know what you want. It makes things easier for me. There are no guessing games with you.”

I slide off his lap and pick up the envelope. “I better give this to her and make sure it gets signed and sent back. The sooner this divorce is final, the better off we’ll all be.”

My dad has been driving by more and more frequently, and he hasn’t even gotten the divorce papers yet. He’ll probably go ape-shit when that happens.

I head upstairs with the envelope, surprised by how heavy and thick it is. Apparently, you need a lot of big fancy words to end a marriage. I always imagined it would simply read:

THE END.

I knock on her bedroom door and she calls out for me to come in.

I hold up the envelope. “They’re here.” I watch surprise, pain, and finally happiness flicker in her eyes. “All you have to do is sign your name and then you’ll be free.”

“Free,” she repeats, padding across the room and taking the envelope from me. “I’d resigned myself to being stuck in my own personal hell for the rest of my life, it’s strange to realize I’m coming out of the hole on the other side.”

“Believe it.” I give her an encouraging smile. “Now, sign these papers and end it.” She opens the package and pulls out the papers. I grab a pen off the desk and hand it to her. “I feel like I should take a picture,” I joke. “This feels like a very important moment.”

She laughs, signing her name in the designated spots marked off with brightly colored sticky flags. “Maybe we should.”

“Hang on,” I tell her, and pull my phone from my pocket. “Smile,” I tell her.

She does, and then I take another with her holding up the papers proudly.

I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. In fact, I can’t recall a time when I’ve seen a smile this genuine on her face, and maybe it’s strange to say, but I’m proud of her. She left a bad situation and she’s gaining back her life. Some might argue that she should’ve done it sooner, but I don’t see it that way. She did it and that’s what matters, not the when.

“Well,” she says once she’s done signing everything, “this will all be over soon.”

I hug her. “And your life can finally begin.”

She hugs me back. “It already began, it just took a detour and I hit a few pot holes along the way, but I’m finally on the right route again.” She lets go and holds me by my shoulders, looking me over. “I don’t tell you enough, but I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. You’re strong and caring and funny and amazing. I’m lucky to be your mom.”

I sniffle. “Don’t make me cry.”

It’s too late, though. The tears begin to fall and I’m helpless to stop them, but instead of sad tears, these are happy ones, and they cleanse my soul.

Practice kicked my ass. Each one gets more and more intense as we grow closer to the game season. I feel ready to fall over as I head to my truck. All I want to do is get home and fall into bed.

“See you tomorrow,” one of the guys calls after me.

I stifle a yawn. “Yeah, see you,” I say back, not even paying attention to whom I’m