Rebound: Chapter 47

Four days after I accidentally flashed Maddox, I received an email from Drake. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made my heart sink and my stomach churn. The words held a power over me that I didn’t expect.

The divorce is final. Elijah and I are no longer married. I glance at the wedding band and engagement ring still adorning my left hand. It never felt right to take them off, and it feels especially wrong now.

The paperwork will follow, but as of yesterday afternoon, I’m not Mrs. Amber James anymore. It feels so odd after all this time. I was a child when I met him, only nineteen years old. Married at twenty-two, which seems almost Shakespearean by modern standards. I was always happy with that, though. I’d had boyfriends before, and they paled into insignificance next to Elijah. The way I fell for that man … It was like my heart took a plunge down the Tower of Terror.

Now, here I am. In my forties, unmarried, and a completely different human being. Heck, I’m a different woman than I was mere months ago. The sheer amount of time I save by not doing a full face and hair every day is astounding, and I don’t miss my huge wardrobe or my fake society friends in the slightest. Instead of persuading other rich people to donate to charities that support faceless victims, I’m now hands-on, providing the help myself. My residence is a tiny house in Brooklyn, I hang out with bikers, and I swear whenever I damn well please. And I absolutely love it.

As Granny Lucille would tell me, we live many lives—we are constantly changing and evolving. The Amber looking back at me from the bathroom mirror today is not the same as the Amber who made her vows to Elijah all those years ago. She’s older and wiser, in some ways stronger, in others more fragile. But she is most definitely still in love with Elijah James.

I get ready to head to the center for my evening class, wishing he were here. He’s finalizing the Kim deal in Seoul, and I haven’t heard from him since the email arrived. Korea is thirteen hours ahead of New York, so while I saw that email at two in the afternoon, it was three a.m there. I hoped he might be in touch by now, but he’s busy with nonstop meetings, which I understand. Work is important to him. It’s not about money—lord knows he has enough of that. It’s about his family and his ethics and his whole identity. And those are all things I’m proud of.

Still, I wish he were here. Reading those words chilled me to the bone.

I leave my little house in Brooklyn and climb into the back of Sanjay’s cab in a bit of a blur. He chats, I chat back, but a cloud of melancholy hangs above my head the whole time.

Nobody can predict what the future holds. Nobody can ever know if a relationship is going to work or not, and Elijah and I have a lot of rebuilding to do. But the divorce feels so final, so brutal. It’s evidence of all the ways we hurt each other and all the time we wasted. We’re not old, and we have a lot to look forward to, but for the first time in nearly twenty years, I’m no longer his wife, and that makes me feel unsettled.

During my meeting with Sissie to discuss fundraising for LOJ, I come up with many suggestions and take on several tasks. This is something I can do with ease. I might have slipped out of my old world, but those skills remain. If all else fails, I am now a rich woman. Sissie wants to raise money for a pool at the center—not only for swimming, but also for therapy for disabled residents and training for some of the local schools’ sports teams. It sounds like a grand idea, and I make it my next goal to see it happen.

Between the meeting and the class I’m leading, I check my phone and have to bite down my disappointment when there’s nothing from Elijah. More than a day has passed since Drake’s email. Time difference be damned—he must have seen it by now. He must know that he’s no longer my husband, and I am desperate to know how he feels about it.

Yes, we’ve both committed to trying again, but this is a big moment. A tiny, paranoid corner of my mind worries that he’s relieved. That now that he knows, he’s thinking about all the benefits freedom may bring. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t been in touch.

Enough! I’m tying myself in knots over this, and there’s no point. If Elijah decides that, then he does. And anyway, I have important things to do—the room is starting to fill, and I have twenty kids between the ages of four and twelve to deal with. The noise level rises as they talk and laugh, some of them waiting quietly, a few of them pushing and shoving. My admittedly limited experience has already taught me that if I don’t take control soon, I’ll lose them. I clap my hands together sharply, and they all look up. The chatter cuts out instantly.

“Welcome, my friends,” I say. “Who here has heard of Swan Lake?”

“Is that in Central Park, Miss Amber?” one of them asks.

“No, stupid, it’s in Canada,” another retorts.

I hold my hands up to silence them. “Nobody is stupid, so let’s add that to our list of banned words, all right? Swan Lake isn’t a place. It’s a ballet. And before you ask, yes, it’s another one by an old white dude.”

We’ve been learning about various types of dance, including contemporary styles from all over the world to represent all their cultures. And while ballet has changed some since my day, the most famous pieces are still by old white dudes.

I play a video clip on the TV in the corner and show them the famous Dance of the Little Swans. I talk very briefly about it, and then we do some swan-inspired warm-ups.

Obviously, we’re not going to reenact the complex choreography in a community center in Queens, but we can have a little fun and learn a few things. I’ve already decided to use part of my settlement to gift the center with an annual budget to fund cultural trips. These kids only live a few miles away from much of the most famous art, theater, and dance in the whole world, but most of them have never sampled it. I’ll get Sanjay to drive a bus. It’ll be fun.

After teaching them a few simple variations, we break for water. Shawn continues to practice alone, and I smile, impressed by his dedication. By ballet standards, he’s way too old to start at eleven—but he has the raw talent few people can boast.

While the kids are otherwise occupied, I do something that they’re all banned from doing—I check my phone. There’s still nothing from Elijah, and I’m starting to run out of excuses for him. Time differences, meetings … None of it is making me feel any better now. I messaged him this morning, and still, there’s no reply. It’s a niggle of doubt that taps into previous hurts, and I’m so glad to be here with these kids. Glad to feel useful and have the distraction.

After five minutes, I clap to get their attention, and we resume our class. Or at least we try to—we’re interrupted by the arrival of an unscheduled visitor.

He walks into the room and looks as out of place as it’s possible to look. His suit is rumpled, but it’s still a suit, and his height and build mark him as a giant in a room full of kids. He strides toward me, smiling confidently, his intense gray eyes on my face. The classical music fades thanks to Shawn at the sound desk and becomes a gentle background murmur, competing with the excited chatter of the children. They point and stare and giggle, obviously intrigued by the new arrival.

His hair is mussed up and his tie is loose, but good lord, he looks delicious. It’s the eyes—stormy gray, peering at me as though nobody else in the world exists. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Korea?”

“Yeah, I should,” he responds, grinning. “But I left Luisa and Mason to handle things. Mr. Kim is a family man. He’ll understand that sometimes, you have to put work second.” This is quite a revelation for Elijah. “Sometimes,” he continues, “you have to put the most important thing in your life first. That’s you, baby. You are my world. You are my number one, now and always. As soon as I saw that email from Drake, I jumped on the jet and headed straight back here. I left in such a hurry, I forgot my cell phone. It took me a while, but I’m here, and I promise you I will never leave your side again.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. Those are beautiful words. Words I never thought I’d hear come from his lips. He drops to one knee, and all the children start to whoop and holler. They might not have seen it in real life before, but they all know what dropping to one knee means. So do I, and it leaves me breathless with excitement. He pulls a box from his jacket pocket and opens it up. It’s perfect. “Is that … Amber?”

“What else would it be, baby, but the most precious stone in the entire world? Nothing shines quite like Amber. And nothing else makes me a happier or allows me to be a better version of myself …” He swallows. “Than you.”

The orange-yellow stone shimmers in the overhead light, and I’m overcome with so much joy and so much love for him that it takes me a moment to catch my breath. “It’s beautiful, Elijah.”

The jewel is stunning, and it represents so much more than the insanely expensive diamond he bought me for our first engagement. But it’s the look on his face that melts me. The look in his eyes that tells me he means this. That I am his, and he is mine.

“Amber, I love you. I can’t live without you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Again?” I ask, smiling down at him.

He grins. “Again. But this time, forever. This time, we do it the right way.”

I nod and let the tears flow as he slides the perfect ring onto my finger—there’s quite the collection building up there now, and it makes us giggle.

He climbs to his feet and pulls me into his arms. I lean into him, feeling his heart thud in his chest, his warm breath on my skin. Safe, happy, loved. It’s been a long, winding road, but it’s led us right here, and there is nowhere on earth I’d rather be. All of our missing pieces are now together.

The kids are going wild around us. Shawn puts on a new song—“Celebration” by Kool and the Gang. I wonder briefly how a kid his age knows a song that old, but I guess it’s a classic for a reason.

A party erupts around us, and although it’s not a slow song, Elijah keeps me in his arms and sways, his lips pressed against my ear. “I’m never letting you go again, baby,” he whispers.

I feel exactly the same. Together, we dance in the middle of the room, surrounded by the energetic joy of youth. Surrounded by life and love.

We are in each other’s arms, exactly where we belong.