“Adam, your mother’s on her way up. Serena did ask her to wait, so she could call up to make sure you weren’t busy, but Ava ignored her and bypassed reception. Do you want me to head her off?” the voice of my assistant, Mark, fills my office.
For fuck’s sake.
I let out a sigh. Then, I press the button on the intercom, answering him, “No, it’s fine. Let her in when she arrives.”
“Okay, will do. Just to let you know, I’ll be away from my desk for a few minutes after that. I need to go see Simon in HR.”
“Sure, no probs.”
I let out another sigh, a tired one this time, as I lean back in my chair. I haven’t been sleeping well all week, and I could really do without a visit from the devil.
I wonder what Ava wants this time. I only see her when she needs something from me.
And my lack of sleep has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t heard from Evie all week. I went to see her on Monday, and it’s now Friday. I told her to call me the next day, so we could talk, and she hasn’t.
And it’s pissing me off.
When leaving the hotel, I’ve seen her at the coffee shop, but there is no fucking way I’m going back in there to ask why she hasn’t called me.
Maybe she doesn’t think us still being married is a big deal. I mean, she didn’t care ten years ago, so why would she care now?
Well, whatever. I did my part. I told her the truth, unlike what she has done with me.
The ball is firmly in her court now.
I hear the familiar click of Ava’s high heels on the wood floor outside my office. It makes my skin prickle, and annoyance grows in my chest. Funny how just the sound of Ava walking can piss me off.
I hear her speak—or should I say, I hear her talking down to Mark.
The door opens, and I repress another sigh.
Here we go.
“Adam.” There isn’t any niceness in her tone, not that I’m surprised. She’s spoken to me with the same level of intolerance ever since I can remember.
“Ava.”
She narrows her eyes at me. She doesn’t like it when I call her by her first name. Fuck knows why. It’s not like she enjoys or cares to be my mother—well, apart from when I can give her something or do something for her, which is clearly why she’s here.
“What do you want this time?”
She frowns at me—well, frowns as best as she can with all the Botox and skin-tightening she’s had done over the years.
She takes the seat at the other side of my desk. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”
I tip my head to the side. “Sorry. I’ll rephrase. What the fuck do you want this time, Ava?”
Tut-tutting, she shakes her head at me, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You really are such a disappointment. Other children treat their mothers with respect.”
“Other children don’t find their mothers having a threesome with their best friend’s parents.”
I never did tell Max that. I didn’t know how to. I mean, it’s not something that comes up easily in conversation.
Oh, by the way, I came home from school the other day, and my mother was fucking your mom and dad.
Honestly, I was afraid he’d blame me, and I would lose him.
I was thirteen, and Max was all I had in the world.
Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Ancient history.” She flicks a hand at me.
I can’t suppress the laugh of disdain that escapes me.
History. Denial. Ignorance.
Ava’s best defenses.
I release a sigh. “I’m busy, Ava. What is it you want from me this time?”
Examining her nails, she says, “Well…it’s been a while since I worked.”
“I thought you were taking a break.”
“I was, and now, I want to work.”
“Well, I haven’t got anything for you. You could always try another studio.”
God, wouldn’t that be a fucking dream? Let someone else deal with her.
Ignoring my suggestion, she says, “I heard that Avalon is going ahead.”
Avalon is a script that came to me a few years ago. Originally, I was on the fence about it. It wasn’t the right time. But the market has shifted, and I think it’s the right time to put it into production. It’s a take on the legend of King Arthur, starting with his fight with Mordred at the Battle of Camlann where Arthur was wounded and thought to have died. It progresses to show his recovery at Avalon, revealing that he lived and returned to lead his people against their enemies.
“It is.”
“I want the part of Morgan le Fay.”
I laugh loudly. Then, I stop laughing, and say in all seriousness, “No.”
Her eyes glower at me. “I’m perfect for it, and you know I am.”
“You’re about thirty years too old for that part.”
Anger ignites over her features. “I might be a little older than Morgan would have been, but I don’t look my age.”
I lean forward, arms on my desk. “The public knows how old you are, no matter how young you might look. You playing Morgan won’t work. End of story.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your father would have given me the part.”
“But Eric’s not here, and I am. You forced me to take over this shitty company, so now, you have to put up with how I run it.”
“I need to work, Adam,” she says this in her nice voice, the one she uses when she’s trying to get her own way.
But I’m not playing today.
“Popularity fading, Ava? Have you lost followers on Twitter?”
“You are a spiteful child, Adam. You always have been.”
There’s the Ava I know.
“Yeah, well, I learned it from the best.”
Looking down, she takes in several deep breaths before looking back up at me. “Fine. You won’t give me the part of Morgan. Give me another part.”
“No.”
“I’m still a part of this studio!” she yells, her hard plastic face turning bright red.
I sit there, unrattled. “Technically, you’re not. You’re just the woman who was married to my father and the woman who gave birth to me, and you’re here for no other reasons than those. You’re lucky I don’t call security and have them toss your ass out on the street.”
Her mouth twists into a bitter sneer. “You know, when I first got pregnant with you, I wondered if I was making a mistake, being married to your father and having his child. One day, not long after finding out I was pregnant, I found myself outside an abortion clinic.” She flexes her hand out in front of her face, examining her nails again. Then, she lowers her hand, and cold eyes meet mine. “I didn’t go inside. I really should have.”
When I was younger, shit like that hurt me. Now, it just rolls right off me.
It’s nothing she hasn’t said before to me.
And the truth is, there is no way Ava would have stood within a hundred yards of an abortion clinic. I was her meal ticket. But that’s not why she can no longer hurt me.
I stopped feeling when Evie left. Nothing will ever feel worse than that.
And this is how it always goes with Ava. I say no. She dials up the bitch a few notches and says some venomous hurtful shit. We argue, and she leaves. Later, she calls and plays nice, and then I say yes to whatever she wants.
And, really, what’s the fucking point?
Honestly, I’m just tired. Evie coming back has just knocked the fight out of me.
Right now, I just want peace.
I rest back in my seat. “Yeah, you probably should have aborted me. Saved us both the fucking misery.”
Leaning my head to the side, the cool leather of my chair pressing against my cheek, I stare out the window at the Hollywood sign in the distance.
“You can have the part of Viviane, the Lady of the Lake. It’s not the lead, but it’s prominent. Jason McAllister is in charge of casting. I’ll make the call and let him know. Check in with him tomorrow.”
There’s silence for a moment.
Then, she says, “What’s the catch?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re welcome.” I slide a glance in her direction. “Now, get the fuck out of my office.”
She quietly gets up from the chair and heads for the door, which is not like her. Maybe she’s finally learned to keep her mouth shut when she’s got a good thing.
When she reaches it, I say to her back, “And, Ava, I don’t want to see you for a long time. A really long time.”
Turning, she smiles. It’s a twisted kind of smile with just her lips tilting up, no expression on her face at all. “That’ll be no problem. Not having to see you has always been the easiest thing for me to do.”
She pulls open the door, and my Uncle Richard is standing on the other side of it.
Uncle Richard is my father’s younger brother. He’s CFO, and he’s actually a nice guy. It’s so strange that two brothers could be so very different.
“Richard.” Her tone screams cool.
It’s no secret that they intensely dislike each other.
“Ava. Good to see you leaving, as always.”
She sniffs at him like he’s dirt on her shoes as she brushes past, heading for the elevator.
I exhale in the knowledge that she’s gone.
There have only ever been two women in my life that could fuck with my head.
One is the devil who just left. The other is Evie.
Thank God I don’t have to see Evie today. I might end up offing myself if I did.
“Sorry to intrude. Mark wasn’t at his desk.”
“It’s no problem.” I gesture for him to sit down.
He takes the seat Ava just vacated.
“So, what did the devil want?” He jerks his head in the direction where Ava just left.
I laugh. It’s my first real laugh in a while.
Sometimes, I think Richard should run this company. Well, I think it all the time.
He actually likes this industry and loves this company.
I often have this dream of signing over the company to him, and then I just run away. Far away.
But, I always wake up.
Even though this place makes me miserable ninety percent of the time, if I didn’t do this, I don’t know what I would do.
I guess I could surf every day and lead a quiet reclusive life, which is sounding quite appealing right now.
“She wanted to play Morgan le Fay.”
His eyes widen. “I hope you told her that she’s a fair amount of decades too late for that part.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Knowing Ava, she didn’t take it well?” he checks.
“Nope.” I drum my fingers on my desk, my eyes averted. “I’ve given her the part of Viviane.”
“Adam, you could always just tell her no and mean it. You owe her nothing.”
“Yeah, I know. But what’s the point? I figure it’s just easier to give in now than later. Saves me a lot of hassle.”
He nods in understanding. “Anyway, I just came up to bring you last year’s numbers that you were looking for. They were on my desk after all.” He hands the folder containing the papers to me.
“Thanks.”
He gets to his feet, about to leave, and then he seems to change his mind. He turns back, his hand holding the back of the chair. “You always were a good kid, Adam. You just got the shit end of the stick when it came to your parents. And I know you probably think you just caved, and Ava won again, but she didn’t.”
“No?” I give him a disbelieving look.
“Ava wanted to play Morgan. You didn’t give her the part. You’ve never done that before. In the past, you’ve always caved completely and given her what she wants.”
That’s not exactly true.
There was one time, a long time ago, when I told Ava no, and I stuck to it. But that was when Evie was still mine, and I had something to fight for.
“Well, there’s always time for me to cave.” I give a dry laugh.
He stares at me with a serious look on his face. “Even still, I’d call this one a win. I’m proud of you, son.”
From out of nowhere, I feel an ache in my chest. It’s so severe that I press my hand to it.
Then, my cell starts ringing on my desk. I’m not familiar with the number, but something tells me that it’s Evie.
“I have to take this,” I tell Richard. “Oh, and thanks,” I say when he’s reached the door.
I’m not just thanking him for bringing papers.
“No problem.” He smiles.
I wait until he’s shut the door before I answer, “Adam Gunner.”
“Adam…it’s Evie.”
She didn’t have to identify herself. I’d know her voice anywhere. And I hate the way it still affects me, even now.
“Are you still there?” she asks softly.
I realize I haven’t said anything in response.
“I’m here.”
There’s a brief pause on the line. I can hear her gentle breaths.
Then, she says, “I was thinking it’s probably time we talk.”
I blow out a breath. My mother and Evie in one day. I guess someone up there really hates me.
“But we don’t have to…if you’re busy,” she adds quickly.
“No, it’s fine. Did you want to do this over the phone or face-to-face?”
“I thought face-to-face, if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine. When?”
“Are you…busy now?”
I can just envision her as if she were in front of me right now, biting on her lower lip, the way she does when she’s nervous.
I look at the paperwork on my desk and the emails filling my screen. “I’m always busy. But I guess now is as good a time as any. Where do you want to meet?”
“Um…I don’t know. I didn’t get that far. It’s taken me a week to find the courage to call you, so…” She trails off.
And that ache is back in my chest again but stronger this time.
I press my fingers against it. “Do you know Rock and Reilly’s Irish Pub?”
“The one on Sunset Boulevard?”
“That’s the one. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I hang up, and the first thing I do before putting my cell into my pants pocket is save Evie’s number into my Contacts.
Don’t judge me. I might need to get in contact with her again.
I mean, we are still married after all.
After grabbing my car keys, I get my jacket and pull it on as I exit my office.
“Mark, I’m heading out,” I tell him, passing his desk.
“Will you be coming back, or are you done for the day?”
Stopping at the elevator, I press the button. “Done for the day.”
Pulling up outside of Reilly’s, I park my car and get out. I lock up and head into the pub. Max and I come here all the time. We’ve been drinking here since we got our first fake IDs at sixteen.
Back then, I would never have guessed that I’d be coming in here to meet with my wife to discuss the demise of our ten-year marriage that technically only lasted for one week.
I push open the door and step inside the pub. I immediately see Evie, as the place is empty, except for her.
She’s sitting in a corner booth by the window, staring into a small glass of wine. She’s not in her work uniform. She’s wearing a plain T-shirt and jean shorts. I know for a fact that she’ll be wearing flip-flops on her feet. It always was Evie’s preferred choice of footwear.
Since seeing her again, this is the first time that I’ve seen her in normal clothes. And once again, I’m thrown back ten years.
She looks beautiful.
And my cock appreciates the fact.
That was always my problem when it came to Evie. I thought with my heart and my cock.
But not anymore. She will always look beautiful to me, but it’s irrelevant. She broke my heart, so it no longer works, and I’m shutting my cock down.
I’m thinking solely with my head.
She lifts her eyes from her wine, instantly meeting with mine. She gives me a hesitant small smile.
I ignore the burn in my chest. Keeping my expression blank, I walk over to her.
“I got a drink already. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be waiting,” she says, like she expected me to keep her waiting or maybe not turn up at all.
Maybe I shouldn’t have.
“I would have ordered for you, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want…” She trails off.
Well, you would know, if you’d stuck around all these years.
I stop myself from saying what I want to say, and instead, I turn to the bartender and say, “Bottle of Bud, please.”
I take the seat opposite her. My cell starts to ring in my pocket. I pull it out, and without checking the screen, I silence it before putting it back.
I see her eyes on my phone, and then they lift to mine.
“Thanks for coming,” she says softly.
“You don’t have to thank me, Evie. We’re here because I fucked up, and we have a mess to sort out.”
She meets my eyes. “But you wouldn’t have fucked up in the first place, if it wasn’t for me.”
“No argument from me there.” Jesus, Gunner, quit with the bitter.
I don’t miss the flicker of pain that passes over her face.
Maybe that’s why I backtrack—not that I owe her anything, but seeing her hurt has always bothered me. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. I think we’re past the blame game by now.”
“Are we really?” She lifts a brow.
She always could see through my bullshit.
I let out a dry laugh. “Probably not, no.” Then, I give her a serious look. “But I want to be. I want to put this behind me and move on. It’s time.”
That’s almost the truth. I just keep thinking if I say it enough, it will happen.
And, really, where is there to go from here but forward? To what, I just don’t know.
The bartender puts my beer in front of me. When I look back at Evie, her face is turned away from me, staring out the window.
“That’s why I called today,” she says in that melodic voice of hers. “You’re right. It’s time to move on.” She brings her eyes back to me. “I got in touch with a divorce lawyer and started proceedings.”
Have you ever been shot?
No? Me neither. But what I’m feeling right now, I’m guessing, is pretty close to that.
I’m not surprised. It’s the logical thing to do. It’s not like we can get an annulment now. And we’re not together. We haven’t been for a decade. It’s not a real marriage.
But still, it hurts like a motherfucker.
“Okay,” I manage out, trying to keep my composure.
“I just thought I should tell you face-to-face. I wasn’t sure if you had started proceedings or not?”
“I hadn’t.” I blankly stare back at her.
“Oh. Okay. Well, it’s good I’m telling you then. I mean, I didn’t want you to get any papers from my lawyer without me letting you know first. So, this is a good thing, right? I know you must want to be free of me, so I thought it was the least I could do for you—to start divorce…proceedings.” She has her hands on the table, twisting her fingers together. Babbling and finger-twisting was always a tell when Evie was nervous. “And, of course, I’ve taken full responsibility on the divorce petition. It’s termed something like, ‘fault-based divorce due to abandonment.’ But you’ll see that on the papers when my lawyer gets in touch with yours. So, if you’ll let me know your lawyer’s details, mine can get in touch, and then…I guess they’ll deal with it until it’s…finalized.”
I clear my throat. “I have a lawyer, but he’s not a divorce lawyer. I’ll find one, and I’ll let you know the details.”
I feel like I’m on autopilot at the moment.
A fast flowing stream of words is going through my mind, none that I’m saying and none that make sense.
I feel exactly like I did the moment when I realized Evie had left me.
Panic. Fear.
It’s like I’m reliving that all over again.
Losing her again.
I’m panicking over losing her when I don’t even have her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Okay. Well…I guess…I guess there’s nothing else to say. So, I won’t take up anymore of your time.” She’s standing up and getting her bag from the seat before hanging it on her shoulder.
All I can do is watch her, the fear of losing her increasing. Closing up on me, like a hand around my throat.
A big part of me, the nineteen-year-old part of me, wants to beg her to stay.
She moves out from behind the table. She stops beside me.
I look up at her.
“I am sorry, Adam,” she whispers. “I’m ten years’ worth of sorry. I just wish…”
She bites her lip. I see the glisten of tears in her eyes. My heart twists painfully.
“I wish we’d had a chance.”
I catch sight of the tears falling down her cheeks before she’s gone and out the door.
In my mind, I’m chasing her out of there and demanding to know why she’s so upset, wanting to know what she meant by wishing that we’d had a chance. I would force her to tell me why she ended that chance, why she really left, and then I’d beg her to stay.
But in reality, my ass is still planted firmly on the seat, exactly where it should be.
Why would I beg her to stay when she fucked me over so badly?
She was the one who abandoned me. She went against our marriage vows.
She’s done the right thing by starting divorce proceedings.
My head knows. My head agrees.
I wonder why the fuck I didn’t do it myself the moment after I’d told her that we were still married.
My heart—that’s why.
He’s hanging on to the past.
Seems the little fucker has decided to come back to life after all these years, and he wants to have an opinion.
And my heart…he wants Evie—no matter what, no matter the cost.
My heart has always wanted her.
I just can’t let my heart win this time.
I’m thinking with my head all the way.
And my head says, Divorce.