With Christmas came the realisation it would be the last spent with Stella and Ayden together. There was no longer any doubt my marriage was over; we hadn’t been a family in years.

I was catapulted into some weird funk I couldn’t quite shake. Not depression exactly, more a despondency of some sort. Maybe it was uncertainty - not knowing what was coming, what my future held, where I’d be this time next year. I was nervous about the new restaurant Ryder and I had bought, nervous about being away from Ayden. Nervous about being on my own for the first time in over twenty years. I’d been lonely most of that time, true, but never on my own. So yes, a pervading sadness stole over me. The atmosphere in the house was frosty at best, matching the weather outside. The chill sank into me further as each day passed. I was ready to get on with the rest of my life.

Since telling Stella our divorce was imminent, she’d never uttered another word about it, just breezed around like she normally did. Ignoring me like I didn’t exist and barely managing to remember she was a mother. Ayden was home for the holidays, yet he spent most of his time in his room, not knowing where to put himself. His best friend, Jake, hardly made an appearance for those few weeks. I craved a better life for my son, for myself.

Instead of wallowing, I made plans. Ones that included Ayden and my future, if that’s what he wanted. I called the realtor we’d bought the old Lewis place from and made appointments to view three properties after New Year from the dossier he’d provided. I had my heart set on one but wasn’t going to jinx it by ruminating on how perfect the property was. Ryder wasn’t fussy, which had always been his way. Having no real roots, he owned his own apartment in our home city of York, rarely frequented it, and could pick up and leave when he saw fit. I’d promised to call him to update on the properties, like I said - he wasn’t fussy.

“Hey, bro. You found somewhere?”

“Three.” I tapped my finger on the favourite at the top of the pile.

“The big one in that three?”

He knew me so well. I didn’t do flats, cottages, bungalows or lofts. I wasn’t a snob, but I liked bigger, more upmarket, was used to the space.

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

“Oh, it had your name written all over it, Lucca. What the fuck you gonna do with five bedrooms, mate?”

“Gym, office, Ayden. You.”

He snorted down the phone. “Yeah, all right then. When’s viewing?”

“First week in January. That cool for you?”

“Sure, I’ll make it a priority.”

I heard someone giggle, a female more specifically, in the background and a muffled ‘ssshh...’

“You at Taylor’s?”

It was weird getting used to her name, I hadn’t officially met her yet. I guessed both would come in time the more she was around. Ryder was in this for the long haul, when he was ready, I’m sure we’d all get together.

“Spending Christmas here. I’ve been a very good boy...” Another background giggle, “Santa’s coming.” I grinned, Ryder always had an innuendo or two, he was like a kid half the time. “You at home?”

I hoisted up from my desk and ambled over to the window, stretching my back as I went. I’d been sitting a few hours and forgot how stiff it made me. My gym time had significantly reduced the older I got, not being able to keep up anymore.

“Yeah, going through paperwork. Need to figure out what Stella wants to do with this fucking house. Ayden doesn’t care.” I squinted out the window wistfully, dejection pulling over me as I watched the icy rain pelt the wooden decking and patio below.

“You care, bud? About the house, I mean?” he asked.

“More sour memories than pleasant here.”

What had started out as the perfect family home, had turned into a prison. A place where Ayden and I were trapped under a woman who had no care to set us free. A woman who needed to control and to compound our suffering, to thrive herself.

“Then leave it, let her have it. Gives her less to fight you over.”

He had a point I couldn’t argue. “Yeah...”

“You find anywhere for Ayden?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet.” I moved back to my desk, thumbing through the property listings. “I did see a place though, a loft...” The loft was perfect and if he did decide to come down, I wanted him somewhere safe.

My office door swung open and I snapped my head up sharply, guessing who’d come in. Ayden wasn’t rude, he knocked. Stella didn’t, she had no qualms strolling into places unannounced or uninvited.  

“Hey, I’ve got to go. Speak to you tomorrow, yeah?” I didn’t wait for an answer.

Hanging up I gave Stella my attention. With nothing to hide from her, I didn’t bother moving things on my desk when I saw her eyes scan the brochures when she moved closer.

“New venture?”

“Since when was it your business, Stella?” My tone was indifferent, not inviting her to start conversation. “What is it you need?”

She raised an eyebrow at me, looking ridiculous. The woman was immaculate, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight. Botox was such a wonderful thing.

“Wow. Listen to you.” She approached the desk, fingered through the listings, picking up the Lewis pack. “Cute.”

I stayed on my feet and let her glance through the brochure without a word. She’d see no value in the rundown shop, she’d downright hate it. There was nothing grand about the Lewis place - didn’t reek money or sophistication. The fact she’d turn her nose up at it, made me love the place more.

“Why all the way down there?” She thumped the dog-eared brochure back on the desk. “It’s too quiet. You’ll never make any money with that piece of shit.”

Always the goddamned money with her. We had plenty, Christ – she had plenty. Beaufort wasn’t about the cash, she wouldn’t understand beyond pound signs. There was more to life than the paper stuff. I didn’t bother entertaining her.

“It looks like a money pit, for Christ’s sake, Lucca. You’ll sink more money into it than you’ll get out. Let me guess? Ryder talked you into it?” It was just like her to point the finger and think he had influenced me. She couldn’t see the potential, or perhaps didn’t want to. “I’m not traipsing down there to bail your pathetic arse out when it goes tits up.”

Had she forgotten I was divorcing her? I thanked the man upstairs, Stella’s obvious disgust would keep her away. The Lewis project was a new beginning, a way to take my life back, to get out of Stella’s clutches once and for all. I tuned her out, barely registering the stomp of her feet as she marched from my office.

* * *

With the festive season petering out and our God-awful Christmas behind us, I had no more responsibilities in the city. With Ayden back at university and my marriage on its last legs, I signed the lease on the rental property I’d had my heart set on. Ryder’s suggestion of relocating and renovating the restaurant ourselves had been the best idea I’d heard in a long time. I’d jumped at the chance once I’d twisted my head around it. Being as far away from Stella was appealing. She hadn’t batted an eyelid when I said I was leaving, hadn’t cared as long as I’d left the Bentley in the garage. I had no problem parting with the pretentious piece of shit, honestly the Cayenne suited me better anyway. I could pack much more into it than the overpriced Bentley I’d never wanted in the first place.

Ayden had never been home much these past two years, yet I missed him more. Student life kept him busy, with whatever kids his age did. I had no idea. My youth had been baby bottles and tantrums – bottles from Ayden, tantrums from Stella. I wouldn’t have changed a thing with Ayden, Stella was another kettle of fish altogether.

Trying to do the right thing had given me more headaches than I cared to remember. I was never one to walk away from my responsibilities even at a young age, and found myself married to my knocked-up girlfriend at eighteen years old. Far too young. Far too naïve. Ryder had tried to knock some sense into me for some time now. His jocular remarks always hinted at a truth I’d denied until the jokes eventually eased up and he grudgingly let me be. He’d made it no secret he couldn’t stand Stella right from the beginning; the feeling had been mutual on her part. Ryder would be happy to see the back of her once and for all. My marriage, if it could have ever been called that, finally had an expiration date. Stella being Stella, she was digging her heels in and hanging on with her claws, for what I had no idea.

Life -  what I wanted was a life. Not an existence. I’d never been in love, never craved to be with anyone, never truly been happy in a woman’s arms. I’d only ever slept with Stella, even then it had only been sex, never making love. Fucking her was unemotional and distant, to get off inside something other than my own hand. Just fucking. I often wondered if I was too far gone, too cynical to ever fall in love. I wasn’t sure I’d even recognise love of that kind if it slapped me in the face. Stella had done a pretty bang up job numbing my heart through the years.

I imagined I’d come out the other end divorced, bitter and jaded and live life much like Ryder once had. A woman because. Two ships passing in the night, comforting for the moment. No commitment, just some fun.

Workaholic was a name that befitted me throughout my adult life. When I hadn’t been with Ayden, I was working, sinking myself so far into my career that sometimes hotels were all I knew. All hours, day and night, I’d built an empire to rival my father’s. Legitimately, legally. I took rundown restaurants and hotels and brought them back to life, it’s what I did best. Being forever tired was a relief; at the end of the day it meant not having to think about my non-existent life at home. Stella hadn’t cared. The money I’d brought home more than made up for her inattentive husband. My wife didn’t want me, no – she wanted the money, the notoriety, the glamour. The life that money could buy. She had known exactly what she was doing the minute she met me. I was the fool who chose to ignore it.

Beaufort would be a welcome relief, a freedom I’d never enjoyed in my life before. My excitement was tinged with nervousness, but I’d meet it head on with relish.

Ryder and I had been down to look at the house I’d had my eye on a few times before signing on the dotted line. The last time we were there, he’d grinned, slapped me on the back and said ‘yip’ before taking off. That was as much of an approval as I was getting - enough for me.

Today was moving day. Stella had disappeared a few days ago, which made it far easier to pack up my shit. Not that there was much. Clothes mostly, some documents and office stuff, gym equipment. Boxes left stored in the attic of my parents’ belongings had been tucked into the back of Ryder’s truck for sorting when I had the time. The rest I would leave, there were few ‘family mementos’ anyway. Stella hadn’t liked clutter, including photographs and nick knacks. Those, instead, littered my office. Many framed shots of Ayden, Ryder, and all three of us together, fought for space on my walls. I’d carefully packed anything that held sentimental value, in newspaper and boxed them up. Outside the office, the house was a showroom, nothing I wanted to touch. Every designer piece had its place. All expensive, all gaudy. Not my style. I’d given Stella the run of the place and our house represented her, not me. It could all stay.

“You got what you need?”

We both sat on barstools at the kitchen island, having a coffee for the road. It was bittersweet. The moment, not the coffee. I was leaving a house I’d lived in for over fifteen years, yet couldn’t wait to see the back of, to leave it all behind. Even with Ayden there, it had never been ‘home.’ Been a long time since I’d had one of those. I regarded the sum of all those years - three fat suitcases and several cardboard boxes.

Pitiful.

“Yeah, I think so. Ayden still needs to pack his things once he gets his mid-term transfer sorted out.” My boy wanted to go where I was, didn’t want to be left behind. As if that would ever happen.

The divorce papers had been quick, the demise of my marriage - not so much. Ayden had already been studying away from home when I’d talked with him about the future. Not surprisingly, he’d shed not a tear. Rightly, he was concerned he’d still be up in York though. Whatever he wanted I promised I’d support. Being the smart kid he was, he said he had a plan of his own, being in York was not part of it, bringing Jake down to Brighton with him was. He made his old man happy.

“Won’t take long, bro. They offer the same courses, it’s just paperwork. Bonus is - he’s not here, he’s in student digs, away from Stella. Stop stressing, man.” He drank the last of his coffee, clanging the cup onto the black onyx marble of the island top. “Time to go.”

Leaving the cups where they were, it would piss Stella off, I jumped from the stool smirking. God forbid she would have to put them in the dishwasher herself. I smirked as I pulled my keys from my pocket and unclasped the obnoxious looking house key from the bunch, throwing it on the island between the cups. I turned tail and strolled out of the kitchen, down the hall, straight through the front door and out to my loaded-up car.

I pulled from the driveway with a brazen flick of my middle finger behind me. Pushing my foot on the accelerator pedal, I took a deep breath and drove away from my prison, from twenty years of confinement and drove towards a future that felt easier to draw breath in already.