The divorce papers come much sooner than I expected.

Now that my mother has dropped the fight for guardianship, Simone is right, there’s no longer a reason to maintain this “marriage.” I briefly wonder how long it would have lasted, had all this dirt not come to light.

Once again, I was served right in front of my own damn office building, this time by a man in a suit.

Irreconcilable differences. Which is as close to the truth as anything.

I stare at the papers below me and feel the resurgence of that fight grow inside of me. I’m used to winning at all costs, but this is different. Numbers across a screen or at the bottom of a balance sheet are nothing compared to bringing Simone and Stuart back into my life…for good. If she thinks I’m giving in this easily, she’s mistaken.

I have three weeks to legally respond. That should be enough time to convince her to change her mind.

I grab my cell phone and call her. It goes direct to voicemail. Fair enough.

“At the very least you owe me a conversation,” I say after the tone. “I’m not signing anything until we talk.”

I hang up, leaving it at that. I doubt she’ll call back, but I know she’ll listen to the message.

When I walk into my apartment Monday night, the silence and solitude I once valued now eats at me. There’s no music to greet me before I even open the door. No tyrannical little dog yapping at my feet. No sounds of laughter and splashing coming from the bathroom down the hallway. No burdensome requests to fulfill my familial obligations. No bedtime stories. No late-night talks. No warm body next to me in bed when I fall asleep and wake up the next morning.

No Simone.

No Stuart.

Just me.

I look around at the space that I now realize is absurdly large for just one person. I drop my briefcase, put my coat back on and head out.

Half an hour later, my driver stops in front of 3 Beekman Place.

“Hello?” The voice over the intercom is free of hostility or irritation. That changes when she hears my voice.

“Simone, it’s Archer.”

I actually hear the sigh before she responds. “Archer, you can’t keep doing this.”

“I can and I will. He’s my nephew too and until I sign the papers, you’re still my wife.”

“Just stop it,” she snaps.

I hear Stuart’s voice in the background calling out an intelligible question. Simone sighs and I’m left with silence as she goes to deal with him.

I wait a moment, hoping she’ll come back, then press the buzzer again. This time there’s no response. I try three more times before I consider pulling out my phone and just calling. Before I can, the door to her building swings open and she standing there before me.

“I didn’t want him hearing us fight,” she says.

“So you do care.”

“I care about him,” she says, glaring at me.

“All the more reason for us to eat dinner together, as a family.”

She actually laughs. “I had to practically force you to come home at a decent enough time just to put him to bed. Now you want to eat as a family.”

“Is it completely impossible for you to believe that I’ve changed?”

“After a week?” she retorts, then comes in closer. I can smell the floral scent that still lingers in my bedroom, driving me crazy. “Here’s what I believe, Archer. I believe you wanted to do everything you could to keep your mother from getting guardianship. I believe you brought Stuart and me into your life as some sick plan to lower my defenses and find my weakness, so you could have total control. Because that’s what it’s about for you, isn’t it? Winning?”

I huff out a laugh of disbelief, which only causes her to narrow her eyes at me. Then I spill my guts.

“You know what, you’re right. All my life has been about winning, being in control, in essence, doing everything I can to keep from failing. I thought I’d succeeded. I’m rich. I’m powerful. No one would ever look at me and consider me a failure. But these past few weeks have taught me, that’s exactly what I am.”

She wrinkles her brow in confusion, but her body language is still defensive, waiting for the punchline.

I sigh and run a frustrated hand through my hair, then exhale again and give her a direct look as I continue. “I’ve failed everywhere it counts. I failed my brother by not fully supporting him on one of the most important days of his life. I failed my sister-in-law by not bothering to even get to know her. I failed my nephew by missing out on the first few years of his life,” I pause and feel my jaw tighten as I continue. “And I failed you by not being completely honest.

“The truth is, yes, once upon a time I wanted complete control over Stuart. I thought it would be in his best interests and the future interest of the company to send him to the Knickerbocker School. That’s before I got to know him and understood what my real responsibilities as an uncle were. Right now his happiness matters more than anything. Your happiness matters more than anything. And frankly, my happiness matters more than anything too. You two in my life make me happy.”

I lean in closer so she knows I’m telling the truth. “Are you going to stand there and tell me that the past week hasn’t been good for him? That it didn’t make you happy either?”

I can see the stubborn resistance in her face.

I pull back with a sigh. “Simone, I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Frankly, I haven’t given you much to go on. All I ask, is that you give me the three weeks I have until I need to reply to your request for a divorce to prove it to you.”

Her eyes go wide at that. “You’re going to draw this out that long?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth tightens as she stares hard at me for a moment, then she relaxes, shaking her head in frustration. “Fine,” she exhales, then points her finger toward me. “You can join us for dinner. You can read Stuart a bedtime story. Then you go home. No staying over. No making us seem like something we aren’t. We are not husband and wife, Archer. We are…a lie.”

I let that one sit, not wanting to rock the boat now that I’ve finally got her on calmer waters.

She gives me one more searching look before opening the door and leading me back up to her apartment.

I watch her from behind with a smile on my face. It’s a small but significant step. If she thinks these nights with her and Stuart are going to end in three weeks with me signing the divorce papers, she wasn’t listening carefully. I want both of them back in my life forever.

And I don’t fail.

* * *

“Uncle Archer!”

There’s something to be said for having your very own pint-sized cheerleader. Mine comes running to greet me as soon as I follow Simone into her apartment.

“Hey Stuart!” I say, swinging him up in the air.

Simone watches with what can only be described as a tolerant look, but I do note how her face softens when I gather him into my arms.

RiRi is right after him, now back to barking at my feet. Maybe I’m just being hopeful, but I swear this time those are barks of happiness to see me.

“My tooth is looser now,” he says, once RiRi finally goes quiet. He opens his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. “Aunt Simone says it’ll be out soon.”

“Looks like your aunt is right,” I say, inspecting it closely.

“Will the tooth fairy know I’m here?” he asks with sudden worry.

“Of course!” I assure him. “She’s got special radar that can find any kid with a missing tooth.”

He smiles at that and I’m pleased to see a grudging smile on his aunt as well.

“So what are we doing for dinner?” I ask, letting him slide down to the floor.

“Can we go to Shake Shack again?”

“We’re eating healthy tonight,” Simone says firmly.

Even though I’m siding with Stuart on this one—I’ve seen the food she left in my cupboards and refrigerator—I’m certainly not about to argue with her. Stuart pouts a little but, seeing that the adults in the room aren’t budging, lets it go.

“Healthy” turns out to be mushroom burgers, without the bun, and baked sweet potato fries. Neither turns out to be too horrible.

Her tiny little kitchenette table is another story. Although I can appreciate that she certainly wasn’t expecting company, the table is barely able to accommodate all the plates, silverware, and drinks for even two people, let along three.

My large body is folded into one of the matching chairs in one corner. Simone sits across from me in the other. Stuart gets the chair from her desk in the living room that’s been rolled in.

The dinner starts off pleasantly enough, Stuart filling the slight air of animosity with his five-year-old chatter, questions, thoughts, and remarks. Both Simone and I are more than happy to let him continue uninterrupted. She is obviously using him to avoid talking to me, and I’m just figuring out the perfect way to reach her.

“This table is too small for us,” he announces out of the blue, looking skeptically at my hunched figure. “Uncle Archer’s table is bigger. We should eat there.”

“Uncle Archer’s table is too big,” she replies, one eyebrow raised my way. “All those empty seats and no one to sit in them.”

Stuart considers that for a moment then his face brightens. “We could get a just right table, like in Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

She actually smiles and wrinkles her nose as she leans in toward him. It’s fucking adorable.

“When we get our new apartment, we can get a just right table. How about that?”

That part isn’t so fucking adorable.

“Will Uncle Archer be living with us again?”

Atta boy.

“Remember how I told you Uncle Archer and Aunt Simone were having grown up problems?”

“Yes but—”

“Uncle Archer needs his own place and we need ours. Of course, you are always welcome to go visit him whenever he likes.” She looks at me with a hint that I have no intention of taking.

I analyze this bit of information. She’s told him he can visit me, not that I can visit them. Point taken.

“I have an idea, how would you like to go to that baseball game I promised you this weekend?” I offer. “The Yankees are in town and you can’t be an official New Yorker without going to at least one game in your life.”

His face brightens at that idea. Simone’s does the exact opposite. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Actually, Stuart and I may have other plans this weekend,” she says, giving me a look that doesn’t take an interpreter to understand: It’s not my place to start making plans with my nephew before consulting her.

Fair enough, but she did open the door.

“Really?” I ask with interest. “Perhaps I can tag along with you two.”

Now she’s visibly upset. We both know she had nothing planned. She’s just trying to create clear boundaries in an attempt to distance me.

All’s fair in love and war, dear wife.

But the idea has been thrown out there and now all Stuart can do is talk about it.

“What are we doing this weekend, Aunt Simone? Can Uncle Archer come, please?! Can’t we go to a baseball game instead?”

“Stuart,” she says, giving him a warning look that instantly silences him. Then she turns that same look to me. “Uncle Archer and you will have plenty of time to do things together. Just the two of you.”

The two of us stare at one another, neither of us budging.

“Are you two still fighting?”

Simone is the first to break the staring contest, blinking down at him with concern. “We aren’t fighting, sweetie. We’re just….working things out.”

He just returns to his plate without remark. The silence that follows is so heavy it could be cut with a knife. I feel his eyes making surreptitious glances at both of us, his brow wrinkling more and more with each pass, which is the most uncomfortable part of all. This dinner isn’t going at all how I planned it.

“I have a joke,” he finally whispers.

Both of us exhale a small sigh of relief. I think about what he told me about Kevin, when he and Bette had a fight, and already I have a smile on my face. I’m liking this kid more and more each day.

“Let’s hear it, buddy,” I say.

“What is a pirate’s favorite letter?”

“No idea,” I say, humoring him.

“Arrr,” he says, with a perfect imitation of a pirate’s growl.

It’s so perfectly, innocently, dumb that I spit out a laugh. Stuart takes it as honest amusement and begins laughing himself. Even Simone, despite her reluctance to be drawn in by such an obvious ploy, begins laughing. From there it just snowballs, none of us able to stop laughing.

When we finally come around, almost a full minute later, the silence afterward is a bit lighter. Simone won’t look at me, but I do note the small, lingering smile on her face as she finishes eating.

Stuart sneaks another look my way and I wink at him.

Who knew being an uncle would be this much fun?

Thanks to him, I’ve got one toe in the door, now I just have to nudge it open a bit further.