TWO DAYS LATER

I walked to work every morning. Two mornings since I’d seen her, but it felt like a year. I kept intending to hop the subway or grab a cab, but my legs kept moving, rotating the wheels in my mind with a push-pull-push-pull.

Push—She was mine. She’d always be mine. Even as confused as I was about what love meant between us, she’d never stopped being mine. Not for a second.

Pull—I couldn’t compete with vanilla. I could never go back. If she wanted the old me—but not me—I was powerless to change her mind. And though the feeling was much the same as the day I’d found her note on the counter, there was less I could do about it.

I texted her and heard nothing. Her green dot didn’t reappear. She’d blinked out.

I’d lost the love of my life. I had to accept that.

Acceptance was freedom. I went with it for two days. I pushed down a pain in my chest that said wrong wrong wrong until I couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t sleep. Ate nothing. I was sucked dry. I texted again. No answer.

Freedom sucked. Freedom wasn’t more than losing the fight. Signing a treaty of complete surrender. Giving up the homeland to the opponent and watching it burn day and night from a foreign land.

I said my good mornings at R+D. Push-pulling down the hall through a tunnel that led to my desk.

I didn’t like losing. I wasn’t used to it. Not in business and not in the personal. Losing this fight was like walking the length of a swamp and coming out on the other side covered in leeches. Each one had to be pulled off painfully. My pride. My sense of self. My imagined future. My culpability. My love might never come off. That one would bleed me the rest of my days. I’d hemorrhage love.

I closed the door to my office and opened the top drawer, where I’d put her divorce papers. They clearly outlined her ownership of everything. She’d earned it. She’d tried to make it work. She’d come back from her own swamp, gone through it again, and come out the other side. I’d thrown her efforts back in her face.

Well, fuck me.

I clicked my pen and hovered over the dotted line. I had to release her if I was ever going to be free.

I didn’t want to be free, but she did.

A knock came at the door, and Eva poked her head in. “Adam?”

“Yes?”

“I set up a meeting in half an hour. We’re doing the Theesen property projections. Have you looked at them?”

“No.”

She stepped all the way in and closed the door. “Are you all right?”

“Not really.”

“Is it Diana?”

“That’s a personal question. We don’t do personal questions.”

She wasn’t put off. She came deeper into the office, pink from head to toe in a wide lapel jacket and flowing silk pants. She was a beautiful woman I couldn’t be attracted to. How many more would there be?

“If you didn’t want me to ask a personal question, you would have said you were fine.”

“I’m not lying anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m explaining.”

She sat on the chair in front of the desk and crossed her legs. Her pumps were pink. “Noted.”

I signed the divorce papers. Dated next to my name. Initialed by the tabs. Folded the pages in threes. Regretted it then let it go, then regretted it again.

“Do you know why I decided to work with you, even though you were younger and had shit for brains?” she asked.

“My acumen?”

“You had no fear. You pitched me projects so risky, no one had even thought of them.”

“I was young and stupid.”

“And lucky. But I didn’t know that yet. What I did know was that you had real upside. You were a winner.”

“Well, you were right. Up to a point.”

“You’re still a winner. Even when you lose.”

There were a few occasions over the years when Eva had tried to be a big sister to me. I hadn’t been able to let her go there because I needed to be her equal in the office. Had the distance been necessary? Had I distrusted her with my confidence, or myself?

“Thanks,” I said. “Can you have Britt send these?”

She took the papers and tapped them on the heel of her hand. “It’s hard to see now that this can be a new start.”

“Noted.”

“You can make your life whatever you want from this moment.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

“You can figure it out. You’re handsome. Successful—”

“Are you making a pass at me?”

“You’re too good a catch. I prefer pathetic losers.” She stood. “It’s a weird fetish.”

“You can make your life whatever you want from this moment.”

“Touché.”

“I’ll review Theesen and see you in the meeting.”

“Good.”

She went out and left me alone with a life of infinite choices, minus one.