Rebound: Chapter 36

We meet in Drake’s office, which we have declared Switzerland. Amber and I sit across from each other, with my brother sitting across from Amelia while she takes notes.

We haven’t spoken to each other since the night Amber kicked me out of her house. I have been on the verge of calling her so many times, but I’ve held back. She had every right to ask me to leave. As she pointed out, I was never invited in the first place. I understand why she wants to keep her distance—I fucked up big time. Just as we were starting to find our way back to each other, I hurt her badly.

But I have feelings too, and it sucked to go to her house, have that mind-blowing sex with her, and then be unceremoniously booted out the door. I don’t know what I expected. That I’d seduce her and she’d forgive me? If only it were that simple.

We both need time. This is not a game I need to win—this is about the rest of our lives. It’s about honestly looking at our relationship and acknowledging the damage we’ve done. The patterns we seem unable to break.

At the moment, she clearly doesn’t think there’s any coming back from that, and she’s busy building her own life. A life I am not welcome in. I fucking hate it, but for now, I have no choice. Besides, there’s that nagging voice in the back of my mind. The one that tells me she might be right—that no matter how much our bodies call to each other, we aren’t a good fit and will never be happy together. I don’t completely believe that voice, but it’s there, always whispering.

So I’ve kept away from her, and she’s kept away from me. Drake called this meeting to update us and to get us to sign more papers. The fucking legal system must be responsible for more deforestation than any other industry. We could have done this separately, but he insisted—I suspect it’s his last-ditch attempt to make sure this is what we want.

He passes around the papers and Amelia distributes pens as he speaks. “It’s been six weeks since you initially filed. There will be delays due to the time of year, and it can take anywhere between six and twelve weeks anyway. This is one of your last opportunities to change your minds.” He glances from me to Amber and back again. She nods, smiles politely, and signs the damn paper without a second thought.

She looks fucking incredible, obviously. Skinny pants and a red blouse made of some kind of floaty material I don’t know the name of. Heels, as usual, make her legs look sinfully long. I keep my face in neutral and remind myself we’re only here to confirm our divorce arrangements. My libido needs to go fuck itself. Except, of course, it would rather go fuck her.

So far, we’ve both been completely courteous and perfectly civil, like good little robots. I want to scream and shout and shake her by the shoulders, to snap us both out of this fucking insanity and stop us from sleepwalking toward the end of our marriage. One look at her calm exterior tells me not to bother. This isn’t easy for her either, and she’s dealing with it in her traditional way—shutters well and truly down. Closing out the world, especially me. The familiar expression on her face fills my stomach with acid. It’s like sitting next to a polite stranger, and I lived that way for too many years. Fuck that. I sign the papers and pass them up the table, ignoring my brother’s frustration. He seems the most upset of all of us.

Drake shakes his head and goes on, running over the basic details of the settlement. Amber gets the Manhattan townhouse and a one-off payment of fifty million dollars. At her request, no additional spousal support will be offered. There are other points, but we’ve already agreed on all of them, and I’m barely listening. How can a marriage end like this? How can it be reduced so quickly to facts and figures, like it meant nothing at all?

“Are you both still happy with that?” Drake asks.

“No,” Amber says, the first time she’s spoken since a basic greeting when she arrived. “I would like an amendment. I don’t want the townhouse.”

“You don’t have to live in it, Amber,” I snap. “Just sell the damn place if you prefer.”

She shakes her head, and her stubbornness pushes me over the edge. “What?” I ask, my voice low and angry-sounding to my own ears. “You want me to increase the settlement instead? Add an extra ten mil on top to make up for it? Is that what you’re angling for?” I’m deliberately provoking her. She didn’t even want the fifty million and only relented when Drake told her that she would hold up the entire process by insisting on a modest living allotment that would last until she found a full-time job. “What the hell do I need that much money for?” were her exact words.

Accusing her of being greedy makes me an asshole, but I’m on the asshole train and can’t get off. The whole thing just makes me so fucking sad, and she’s giving me nothing. No emotions at all. I always hated it when she shut down like this.

She glares at me, tears shining in her eyes. I seem to have that effect on her a lot these days. And I really am an asshole, because I’m glad to see them there. I want her to cry. I want her to feel as shitty as I do.

“No, Elijah, I don’t want an extra ten mil. I don’t want anything to do with the townhouse. All it represents is the miserable state our relationship ended up in. Keep it, sell it, blow the damn place up—I don’t care. I don’t even want the amount we agreed on. I don’t need it. I might be useless in the real world, but I will find a way to support myself without you.”

The pain in her voice is lined with steel. She means every word, and damn, I can’t help but admire her. “We’ve agreed on the settlement, Amber, and we’re sticking with it. Call it compensation for having to tolerate our miserable relationship for so long.”

Eyes flashing, she opens her mouth, but then she takes a deep breath and maintains her calm tone. “I’m sorry I said that. It was not all miserable, and I apologize. But I do mean it about the cash, Elijah. I will happily walk away from this marriage with nothing.”

She’s trying to defuse the situation, trying to calm me down, but it’s impossible. Everything suddenly feels like too fucking much. She left me, and although she’s right—we were miserable a lot of the time—I still love her. I’ve messed up in so many damn ways, and it kills me that I can’t fix it. But how can she sit there and talk like this? How can she be so damn composed? Doesn’t she care at all?

“You’re very mild-mannered today, Amber,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “Almost serene. Is it the thought of escaping me, or my whole family? Are you excited to finally be free of us?”

Her nostrils flare and she shakes her head but remains infuriatingly silent. She’s not even blinking. I lean closer. “And as for you walking away from this marriage with nothing, that’s not possible. At the very least, you will walk away from this marriage with my fucking heart. Is that nothing to you?”

“Your heart?” she echoes, finally pushed far enough to raise her voice. “Your fucking heart? We all know that belongs to your family, Elijah—there was never enough left over for me, was there? I was always scampering around underneath the table, looking for scraps. Gratefully snatching up anything that Nathan or Mason or your dad didn’t use first.”

“That’s bullshit,” I cry, jumping to my feet. “Yes, I love my family. Is that a fucking crime? Don’t blame me—you’ve been doing your best to alienate them for decades now.” She stands too, and we glower at each like prizefighters.

“Stop!” Drake slams a leather-bound law book down on the table, making us all flinch. Amelia looks distressed, her eyes going from my brother to us. Drake just looks pissed. “You two are behaving like fucking children,” he says, slamming the book down again for good measure. “Children who still love each other. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be reacting like this. From where I’m sitting, this marriage does not look over—so what the fuck are you playing at?”

Both Amber and I try to talk at once, and he shakes his head. “Sit down, right now, and shut the fuck up. I am sick to death of this stupidity. I have something I need to say.”

I’m tempted to leap over the table and punch his lights out, but I recognize that urge as the impostor it is. I sit down and force myself to stay quiet. Amber does the same.

Drake runs his hands through his hair, and Amelia lays a calming hand on his shoulder. When he looks back up at us, sadness has replaced his anger. “Amber, you need to tell him,” he says calmly. What the fuck is he talking about? “Tell him what happened that night.”

My wife immediately pales, and her hands curl into fists. “No, Drake. It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago. It’s irrelevant now.”

“I say it is relevant,” he insists. “And if you don’t tell him, then I will. Your choice. Amelia and I are going to leave now, because frankly, I need a fucking drink. Possibly I need several. Then I’m going home with my girlfriend, and I am going to tell her I love her all night long. You two, sort your shit out.”

He grabs his coat from the back of the door and storms out. Amelia lingers behind, smiling awkwardly. “Help yourself to coffee. And he keeps a bottle of Scotch in his second desk drawer.” With that, she leaves me alone with my wife.

I have no fucking clue what’s going on, but Amber looks ready to run right after them. No fucking way. She’s not going anywhere until I find out what Drake was talking about. I stride over to the desk, find the Scotch, and grab two cups from the coffee machine. I glug in generous amounts, and shove one in her direction. She sniffs it and makes a disgusted face but swallows some down anyway. I follow suit, and the familiar warmth of the Macallan helps calm me down.

“Amber, what the hell was Drake going on about? What do you need to tell me?”

She shakes her head and bites her lip so hard she leaves an indent of her teeth in her skin. “He had no right to say that. And it really isn’t relevant.”

“What isn’t? You heard Drake—if you don’t tell me, he will. Just spit it out.”

She buries her face in her hands for a moment and emerges looking even paler. After downing the rest of her Scotch, she makes a “fill me up” gesture, and I oblige, pouring her half a cup. She picks it up and walks over to the window. It’s not yet five, but darkness has fallen.

“Doesn’t it look spectacular?” she says. “I mean, it always does, but with the Christmas lights …”

“It does,” I agree, joining her. I don’t give a shit about the view, but she clearly needs a moment. “Beautiful.”

She nods and sits on the big leather couch, staring past me at nothing in particular. “Drake is talking about something that happened years ago. I don’t want to dredge it all up. There’s nothing to be gained by that.”

I sit next to her but don’t touch her. I give her space. “Maybe that’s for me to decide. Drake certainly seems to think so anyway. Fuck, baby—things can’t get any worse, can they?”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “You shouldn’t say that, because in my experience, they always can. Okay. I don’t suppose your darling brother has left me with much choice. So, this happened at the end of October, fourteen years ago.”

I frown and put the pieces together. “When my mom was sick?” She died on the first of November.

Amber nods and sips more Scotch. “It was late, and we were staying with your parents. I went to check on her. I loved your mom so much, Elijah. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do know that,” I say, confused. “And she felt the same about you.”

Her smile is brittle. “I thought so too. You know how I grew up, what my childhood was like. What my parents were like. You know there was no love in that home. When I met you, and then your mom and your brothers, I felt like I was part of a real family for the first time ever. Like I’d finally found my place, you know? And then it all fell apart. It started that night.”

“What do you mean? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I know, honey,” she says, gazing up at me with those huge, sad eyes. “That’s because I hid it from you. That night, your mom told me some home truths. She was in so much pain, taking drugs that messed with her head, but I never totally believed that was all it was about. I suppose I’ve always thought, deep down, that she meant it.”

“Meant what?” I prompt after she falls silent again.

“Meant it when she told me I never should have married you. When she told me I was broken and barren. And that the whole family resented me for what I’d done to you.”

I stare at her, seeing the tears spill down her cheeks, unable to comprehend the words she just spoke. “She said what?”

“That I was broken and shouldn’t have married you. That you were pretending you didn’t mind that I couldn’t have children.”

“No,” I murmur, casting my mind back to that terrible time in our lives. “No, she wouldn’t.” The woman I knew wasn’t capable of such cruelty.

Amber gazes up at me and stays quiet for a few moments.

“Right,” she replies gently, a defeated look on her face. “Of course, you’re right.”

She stands up and gulps down the rest of her Scotch before leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. “I need to get going. I’m sorry Drake brought this up. Like I said, ancient history. I’m sure you’re correct and I’ve simply misremembered. Look after yourself, honey, okay?”

Still too stunned by her revelation to speak, I simply stare at her until she’s gone.