Looking back, I think we both mistook familiarity for destiny.
It felt like the universe had lined it all up: two Londoners finding each other across an ocean, both dreaming of a future back home.
It was a perfect fairy tale… until it wasn’t.
Casey was beautiful, vivacious, hungry for life… and I loved that about her. Her passion for living drew people in. That’s what first caught my eye—she was electric. She had that spark that made everyone want to be in her orbit. I never realized she’d burn through our life together just as fast.
I think I proposed because it felt like the next box to tick. Everyone around us was settling down, buying houses, planning futures. I followed their direction without looking at where the road led.
Little did I know that shortly after we married, Casey would develop an expensive shopping habit to keep herself busy, and the path I chose would lead to maxed-out credit cards, endless hours slogging away at my desk to pay the bills, and weekends spent searching for Casey while she disappeared on four-day benders.
As time went on, we drifted apart. We barely had sex. We never saw each other. Casey decided she didn’t want to work after we got married, and when I was home in the evenings, she was out with friends. When she was home or out shopping during the day, I was working.
I was more than happy to give Casey a life where work wasn’t something she had to worry about. In fact, I loved the idea of earning enough to take care of the person I loved—if that was what they wanted. But the late nights, the incessant spending, the not knowing where she was or who she was with… that chipped away at me. It broke me down, piece by piece. She had no problem spending our money but couldn’t show me the basic courtesy of letting me know she was safe, and it killed me.
I assumed Casey would grow out of the partying eventually, but she didn’t. And while I take control in my life—in business, in my plans, when I fuck—I don’t force other people’s decisions.
I shouldn’t have to tell my wife how to live. I could share my worries, sure. Express how I felt when she disappeared for days, but ultimately, they were her choices to make. She simply kept making ones that pushed us further apart.
I tried to make it work, but there’s only so much you can give of yourself before your pockets are empty. I was runningon fumes, pouring everything I had into a marriage that was already dry. I was a shell of the person I used to be.
By the time I hit thirty-five, I’d stopped begging to reignite something that had long since burned out.
She noticed the shift—my distancing, my silence. That’s when the desperate talk of starting a family began, but by then, it was too late. I didn’t trust her anymore. I felt like I was married to a stranger.
Besides, I wasn’t cut out for fatherhood. At least not the kind where my kids would grow up watching their mother spiral while I cleaned up the mess. To be honest, I’m not sure I want children at all. The white picket fence was never desirable for me. I want a life where my partner and I can do whatever we want, whenever we want. Midnight dinners in Paris, last-minute flights to Tokyo—a life built on shared ambition, spontaneity, and mutual respect. Someone who understands that luxury isn’t just about spending money—it’s about creating something worth sharing with someone.
I won’t settle for anything less.
I let the phone ring out.
Though I still have love for Casey, the romantic love I once held dissolved long ago. She’s a dance I no longer remember the steps to. I could try and try, but the rhythm will always escape me.
I’ll always remember our best times together fondly. For a period of my life, she was everything. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her, and for a while, we made each other happy. I can’t look back at that with disdain. But it’s because I care for her that I can’t continue the late-night chats. Her love never faded, and although we remained friends, I can’t do it anymore. I figure sometimes healing comes with walking away. I hope she finds the person who can get the steps right.
If I learned anything from the divorce, it’s to keep things simple.
Purely physical.
Just two adults wringing out their needs before going their separate ways. I like to set the pace, determine the rules. In the bedroom, that means I take what I want, how I want it. Without the messiness of emotions, no post-coital cuddling, no morning-after awkwardness. Just pure, simple release.
Right now, between my career and the people I care about, my life is exactly how I want it.
Measured.
But I’m unsettled.
My thoughts should be focused on the hotel launch. Not my sister’s best friend.
The fact that she’s made herself at home in my mind after one day is dangerous.
Because for the first time since Casey, I’m not just craving a body—I’m craving the challenge.
Chapter Nine
Gemma
It’s half seven and I’m freezing my tits off.
