I don’t have a lot of time to react because Clara, my ex-wife, is tramping through the office. She passes the bullpen and Juliet’s little cubicle, then walks in, to my horror, and bellows, “Where is my husband?” like a lost velociraptor.
The look of terror and shock on Juliet’s face breaks my heart. For a heartbeat, everything is at risk, Juliet’s fragile friendship, her innocence, our few times together, all is threatened by the presence of the viper I used to be married to.
She isn’t satisfied with the settlement I agreed to. I gave her a mansion to live in, for God’s sake, and she gets a very generous chunk of alimony, but she still seems to think she is entitled to more even though she is the one who cheated. Christmas is a time of year when she still expects lavish gifts as if we have traditional obligations. I do visit her elderly parents and take them all out for dinner since I usually have no one else to spend Christmas. I truly loved her at one point, but those memories are almost too faded to recall. I am not a fan of her partner, but we keep a safe distance from each other, and I did buy gifts her son.
“He’s in his office,” a woman points across the hallway.
My ex-wife sweeps into my office like she still has a place by my side, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She hasn’t changed. She wears a perfectly tailored coat, diamond earrings catching the fluorescent lighting, bright and offensive, and a faint whiff of expensive perfume trails behind her.
“Marcel, Merry Christmas. You must be wondering why I’m here,” she launches at me with an overwhelming embrace.
“Oh, I’m more than wondering, I’m flat out confused. What the hell, Clara?” I am not going to allow this ridiculousness, especially with Juliet watching from across the room.
“I read about the project in the trades,” she says, dropping her handbag onto one of my chairs without asking. “Ten city blocks, Marcel? Gutting a community center? I had to see this for myself."
“You didn’t find out about this in the trades,” I tell her flat out. The project hasn’t been announced.
“Alright, maybe Julian and I went to a Chester Street Christmas party and it was mentioned. Regardless, we usually spend time during Christmas together and you weren’t there.” She huffs like a spoiled child.
“We don’t spend time during Christmas together, I make an obligatory visit to your elderly parents and you always happen to be there. You left me for Julian, had a son and I am forced to partially fund your lavish lifestyle. Other than that, I want nothing to do with you.” At this she laughs.
“I supported you for years while you were building your business, Marcel, so don’t play the martyr. You have more money than you can manage, and my son is young, he has needs.”
“He’s not my child, not my responsibility. Neither are you. So why are you here?” I’m in no mood for this.
“Ah, so sweet. I’m here to admire your work.” She sits on the couch in my office.
“Oh, come on now, we both know that’s not true.” I hate lies and Clara is the best liar.
She tilts her head, studying me with a sharp gaze that once could slice me open; now she just irritates me. “Relax. I’m not here to fight. But since I’m here ...” She smooths an invisible crease on her skirt. “After next year, the alimony payments end. And—”
“And there will be no need to see each other anymore,” I finish her sentence. “You have Julian and your son. I’ll send a wedding gift.”
Clara’s lips curve into what looks like a smile, but there’s now laughter in it. “Maybe you won’t have to.”
“Oh?” I don’t really care, but if she is no longer with her long time partner and the father of her child, she might start hounding me. “I hope you two are still good.” Because I certainly don’t want her back.
“You know relationships,” she dismisses.
“Only been in one,” I pause and look at her, “and we both know what happened in that one.”
She doesn’t move and her smile sharpens. “I’m ready for a tour.”
“I’m busy, Clara and I’m seeing someone. You should fly back to New York. I’m sure your son wants to be with his mother on Christmas.”
“Julian’s parents are taking him to the alps,” she dismisses. “You’re seeing someone?” She seems shocked.
“Yes, and I’m late for our date.” All untrue, but I will do anything to get rid of her.
The audacity of the woman coming to Rhode Island. Cayden, one of my three best friends and the flirtiest, must have told her. He is so happy-go-lucky, he never thinks things through.
Clara turns on her heel and leaves, her perfume lingering in the air, choking me. “I’ll come by tomorrow then.”
Fuck.
Chapter Fifteen
Juliet
