“So you can convince me to give you another chance?”
“No, I just thought I meant more to you than ending everything we have over a phone call.”
I sigh. “You did mean more to me than that, but you took away any love I had for you when you lost your temper. There’snothing more to work out. I don’t want half of everything you own, and I’m not going to take you to the cleaners. With the gash on my cheek and the ugly bruising I’m looking at right now, if this goes to court it will ruin you.”
I picture him on the other end of the phone, raking his hands through his shaggy surf hair as he does when he’s agitated.
“I’ll have divorce papers sent to you. I won’t be asking for anything else from you, just a quick divorce with no publicity and no fuss. I don’t want the Porsche. It’s in your name anyway, so I’ll have it shipped back to you at my earliest convenience.” The matter of fact tone in my voice masks the multitude of emotions going through me right now.
“Nat—”
“No, Aaron, this is it, I’m not a contract that you can negotiate terms on. Please don’t call me again. I’ll find an attorney and they will be in touch.” I hear him start to protest, but I cut him short. “Goodbye, Aaron.”
I end the call. I have to.
It’s the only way to stop this conversation going around and around in circles and risking me changing my mind because I feel sorry for him. I hate to think that my words are the cause of someone’s hurt, but if he digs a little deeper, he’ll see that it’s not my words that have hurt him, it’s his actions.
No sooner do I hang up, then it rings again.
Aaron.
I let it connect to voice mail. A second later, the shrill tone starts up once more. It’s his last attempt at saving his marriage. If I were actually in love with him, I’d be impressed that he is fighting for me, but I know it’s the shame and guilt pushing him to make things right. I dismantle the phone, removing the battery, and throw all the pieces in the bin.
And just like that, it’s over.
I don’t take any pleasure in ending our relationship, but I have already learned that if you don’t get out early on then all you are doing is waiting like a sitting duck, ready to be used and hurt. The conversation could have gone back and forth all day and we still wouldn’t have achieved anything. The minute he broke my skin, he hardened my heart. He won’t give in and neither will I. No compromises. No alternatives. I’m putting myself first.
Having gotten that phone call out of the way, I decide to spend a few hours shopping. I put some makeup on to try and cover the bruising on my face the best I can, but it’s come out fully now and is very noticeable. The clothes I packed are few and there’s only so long that I can live out of a suitcase for, I’m going to need more than four outfits just to get me through the next week.
Four hours and countless shopping bags later, I return to the hotel, with a much lighter bank balance but a multitude of outfits from some great stores. I’ve enjoyed every minute of today’s carefree shopping as I took the time to admire window displays and let myself browse as well as buy.
I enter the hotel through a different lobby to the main one. It takes me past some of the facilities I hadn’t seen yet. A gym and day spa which I make a mental note to try and book into for a treatment tomorrow. Maybe I could book Lottie in with me and have a real girlie day. I’ve missed her so very much and the thought of spending some quality time with her makes me smile. Further along the walkway is a casino. I stop to look through the large double doors.
It has the trademark colors with cream walls, gold adornments and crimson carpets. Its tall ceiling makes it look huge and the flashing lights coming from all directions are mesmerizing. I have been to a casino once or twice with Aaron, but I don’t really know what I’m doing. It is Aaron who is the pro and I can’t even say I learned anything from him. He is a serious player and plays to win, poker mainly, sometimes blackjack,whereas I would do it just for the fun. ‘The Promised Land’ has been aptly named and makes me chuckle that people are actually led astray by the flashing lights and the guise of riches. There is only one winner in gambling and that’s the bank.
“You’re allowed in, you know. That is, presuming you are over twenty-one?”
I recognize the deep timbre of his voice and the vibration of his chuckle, and the sound evokes an acceleration in my heartbeat. I turn and face the source, already knowing who I will find. I am awarded with a full megawatt smile, he is clean shaven and smells divine. His crisp white shirt is open at the collar and his gray slacks fit his hips like they were made for him. Thinking about it, they probably are. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“Good afternoon, Mr. King,” I say with a genuine smile in my voice.
“Miss. Jamesson.” He nods, his smug grin stretches across his cheeks and gives me the ‘I know you were checking me out’ look. “How are you finding your stay?”
“I’m enjoying it very much, thank you.” His eyes haven’t left mine and the corners crease making his handsome face softer. “I wanted to say thank you for breakfast this morning. It was very thoughtful of you. Extravagant, but thoughtful.”
“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Will you be visiting the casino this evening?” He nods his head toward the casino doors.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not really my thing,” I say nervously with a shrug of my shoulders.
He leans ever so slightly toward me and his voice lowers to a soft growl. “And what exactly is your thing, Miss. Jamesson?” My heart rate spikes at the way his eyes burn into me, and my mind races with images of what my 'thing' could be. Every image involves him in one way or another, and I have no idea how he manages to do that to me.
“I…uh…” I seem to have lost the ability to form coherent sentences and I feel my face flush a little. He obviously finds my discomfort amusing as he’s looking at me with a sexy as hell grin plastered across his beautiful face and an eyebrow quirked as if he’s still waiting for my answer.
“I think the spa and salon would be more mything. I’m not really a gambler. Anyway, I really need to be getting back to my suite, these bags are—”
“Please, let me take them for you.”
“It’s fine, I can manage, really.” I start to walk away, needing to get out of this space but not really wanting to. In the few encounters we have had, Denham King sends my mind into a spin, but he also makes me feel alive in my soul, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really felt that before. The mix of emotions is not productive to finding the solutions to my current problems. I really have to keep a clear head.
