LIVING IN CLOSE quarters with my estranged husband wasn’t necessarily the smartest thing I’d done, especially when he suddenly came back from Canada where he’d been shooting, went out with his cast, brought the after-after party back to our place, and proceeded to invite me to join the fun when I woke up, looking for the source of the commotion. Being half-past drunk and fooling around with the husband I was in the process of divorcing, was an even dumber idea. Not for the first time since I woke up, I rubbed my eyes and groaned. It’s not like Gabe and I hadn’t hooked up since we decided to end things, but we’d steered far away from each other since making things official. I blamed my lapse of judgment on not getting laid in a year, the two bottles of wine I drank before he got there, and that one fleeting moment when he smiled at me when I thought that maybe, just maybe, this marriage could still work.
But that was before a woman barged into his bedroom, where were were almost naked, and asked him where he put the cocaine they’d just purchased. The words, their actions, the fact she knew where his room was and he didn’t kick her out at first glance, kicked my senses into overdrive. I hopped out of bed, fixed my clothes, and went back to what we’d dubbed my side of the house.
I didn’t acknowledge him when he asked me to come back. He never even got out of bed or came down the hall to stop me. Yet there I was, in our kitchen, picking up his mess as I’d done a million times before. I was half-tempted to call our housekeeper, Amelia, and have her come in on her day off, but I didn’t want any more people suffering this divorce.
Our gate bell rang shortly after I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing off things I was sure you couldn’t even find on floors of college frat houses to make my house presentable when Victor came over this afternoon. I pressed the open button on the gate without even checking to see who it was. I rarely did that, but I figured because of the time it had to be UPS or some other courier. Without giving it a second thought, I went back to scrubbing.
This was not how I envisioned this week panning out. Not at all. Not that I’d ever envisioned myself on my knees in this kitchen for any other reason than Gabriel standing in front of me. I sighed and pushed the thought away. That was over. Over. Never again, and I didn’t want it again, especially after last night’s rude reminder. I went back to cleaning whatever disgusting, sticky particle was on my floor at the moment. The loud knocks on my door snapped me out of what was becoming a pattern: scrub, cringe, scrub, cringe, repeat. I let go of the scrubber and stood with a sigh, taking off my yellow gloves and throwing them into the empty bucket. I washed my hands quickly before making my way to the front door.
To my complete surprise, Gabe was walking to the door at the same time. I would have sworn he’d sleep until this evening and only get up to eat and have a do-over of his drug-and-alcohol-infused night. I shivered at the thought. This man once made me shiver for completely different reasons. He still had that effect on women, with his toned body, striking features, and invented smile.
“You expecting company?” he asked, already looking through the peephole.
“Not until later today,” I said slowly, looking around as if the white walls were going to tell me the time. A thought struck me as I picked up the pace and stood beside Gabe. “Oh, shit. What time is it?”
“Do you know this guy?” he asked as we reached the door.
I unlocked the door and opened it, ignoring his question. Victor stood on the other side of the threshold with a confused look on his face as his eyes bounced from Gabe to me, me to Gabe, and finally me again.
“Come in,” I said, and moved toward Gabe so he had no choice but to take a step back and make room for Victor to enter.
I closed the door behind him and stood there as the two of them greeted each other.
“We’ll be out back. Finish cleaning up your mess,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked toward the living room, knowing Victor would follow.
I walked until I reached the back doors and opened them so we could sit out on the porch, where I found a single silver stiletto.
“Who the hell leaves one shoe behind at a party?” I muttered, picking it up by the strap and tossing it aside.