The Ex (20 page)

“You know that once Olivia is born, I’ll be looking for any excuse to come to the city, anyway.” He pulled me close again and kissed the top of my head. “This isn’t an insurmountable obstacle, darling.”

It wasn’t, he was right. It was just a super bummer at the moment.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving me a squeeze. “I’m here tonight. And we have all that pornography…”

I smiled against his chest. “I’m really tired. Can we just get off next to each other?”

“Would I turn down a chance to watch you masturbate?” He stepped back and looked down at me. “There. Now, you’re smiling.”

I sniffed and rummaged in the silverware drawer for a spoon to check my reflection in. I wiped gingerly at a streak of black liner on my lower lid.

Neil leaned his shoulder against the refrigerator and watched me. “We’re going to be fine, Sophie. The magazine took off, but you’re still getting your feet under you. It’s going to take some time, but I’m not worried about you. And I’m not worried about us.”

“Thank you.” I cleared my suddenly hoarse throat.

Damn, he could probably tell I was getting all weepy again. At least, this time, it was for a happy reason.

* * * *

It was strange how easily having my mom with us became routine. As her emergency leave wore on, it had become increasingly clear to me that she probably wouldn’t go back to Calumet, and I was fine with that. After she moved into the guest house, that is. It had been tense with her living in the house with us, popping up at inopportune moments as though she were consciously trying to interrupt any time Neil and I had to spend together. The weird thing was, she seemed genuinely unaware that she was doing it at all.

Sundays were fun. Emma and Michael still made it out to see us in the evening, and now that Mom was with us, it reminded me of the big family lunches we’d had at my grandmother’s house when I was growing up. Mom even came beforehand and helped Neil cook, though I don’t think he was as touched by the arrangement as I was.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable just sitting back and relaxing, Rebecca?” His smile was so tight it looked like his face would crack.

Looking up from the kitchen table, I mouthed, “Be nice,” exaggerated enough that he could see it from across the room. He gave me a stern, long-suffering roll of his eyes.

“You know what?” Mom asked, still chopping the green pepper into irregular sized pieces.

Neil hated that, and I had to roll my lips over my teeth and clamp down to keep from laughing at his agitated glares at the cutting board.

Mom gestured with her knife. “I was thinking that on Thursday I should come into the city with you, Sophie. Have lunch, maybe do some shopping while you work.”

“Yeah, sounds like fun,” I agreed readily.

Neil looked up from the roast he was expertly tying and met my eyes with renewed annoyance. After his initial relief at learning about Stephen’s book had worn off, he’d been grumpy as hell, but he wouldn’t admit it. I ignored it, because it felt like the most supportive choice. He turned his attention back to the meat. “You can’t on Thursday. We’re meeting the lawyer.”

A cold chill skated down my arms, and I pulled my cardigan tighter around my midsection. Whether out of spite or carelessness, Neil had opened a can of worms.

“You guys are going to see a lawyer?” Mom turned to each of us in turn, as perplexed as if he had said, “We’re going to the North Pole to visit Santa.” “What do you need a lawyer for?”

“For the prenuptial agreement, of course,” he said with malicious cheer.

He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t just opening a can of worms. He was exploding a bait bucket full of nasty, wriggly night crawlers all over our dinner.

“Oh.” Mom pursed her lips and set her knife down.
Neil, pick it up. Get it out of her reach before she stabs you.

I’d have to smooth things over before anyone said anything else. “Yeah, well, you know. Neil has his assets, and I have mine. We’re doing a smart thing.”

“Please, Sophie. Do you really believe he’s doing this to protect
your
assets?”

I knew my mom’s opinion of prenups. They were for people who intended to get divorced and intended to screw each other out of a fair deal.

And Neil didn’t bother to defend himself. He was just trying to pick a fight.

“If Neil and I were to split up, I wouldn’t want much from him, anyway. We’ve got things divided up in a way that’s fair to me.” I bent my wrist and waved my arm in dismissal. “It’s not a big deal, because we’re not going to split up.”

“Then, why is it necessary?” Mom demanded.

Finally, Neil jumped in. “I’ve been divorced before, Rebecca. Without a prenup, it would have been far uglier than it was.”

Mom turned shocked eyes to me. “And you’re really okay with this, Sophie?”

“Of course I am. I’m marrying a guy who owns two media corporations. I own a magazine that he’s put a lot of money into, even if he’s not an official investor. I need to protect my interests, too.” I sighed in frustration. “And I don’t want people to think I’m in this just for the money—”

Mom threw up her hands. “So, if in five or ten years he leaves you, you’d just move out and get nothing?”

Neil made a lot more noise than necessary putting the roast in the oven. “There is a clause for spousal support in the agreement,” he said, his tone flat.

“Yeah. I’m not going to be hurting financially if we divorce. And I’d be hurting more emotionally, anyway.” My chest ached. Why the hell did Neil bring this up? Why now? We were supposed to be having a nice family Sunday, and he was picking a fight?

Mom was not moved. She made a disgusted noise and walked away from the island.

“Where are you going?” I called after her.

She was at the back door before she answered. “I’m disappointed in you, Sophie. And, right now, I don’t want to be around him.”

After the door closed behind her, I expected Neil to say something. He just turned and rinsed his hands at the bar sink then dried them with a paper towel. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.

I could only stand my angry silence for so long. “What the hell was that?”

He shrugged and started dicing the peppers Mom had abandoned. “It was your mother, grossly overreacting.”

I shot to my feet. “It was you poking the badger! I told you, more than once, not to mention the prenup. It’s not something people back home do!”

“It’s not my fault that your mother can’t see the difference between a small-town marriage and the dissolution of a legal union wherein billions of dollars would be in dispute.” He had the nerve to sound frustrated with
me.

“She knows the difference. It’s just taboo to some people still, okay?” I huffed. “I’m not saying it’s right, and I’m not saying I don’t want one. But you didn’t need to tell my mom our private business just because you wanted to drive her out.”

“I was not trying to drive her out,” he insisted emphatically.

“Oh, bullshit. You were totally annoyed that she was here.”

He put down the knife and braced his hands on the edge of the island. “Fine. I was annoyed that she was here. I realize that I agreed to her staying here, but I can’t take much more of this.”

“More of what? Mom being around? Did you think she was going to just live in the guest house and stop by for Christmas?” I demanded.

“I expected she would at least stop letting herself in once she moved out there. I’m tired of worrying that she’s going to walk in while I’m jerking off.” He pointed toward the door in accusation. “She came into our
bedroom
looking for you the other day, and I was practically naked.”

I rolled my eyes. “She said you left the door open. And you weren’t ‘practically naked’, you were shirtless.”

“It was more naked than I would have liked to be in front of your mother!” he shot back, raising his voice considerably. “I should be allowed to be fully nude in my bedroom with the door open if I want to be. What kind of a person just strolls into someone else’s bedroom? Your family has no boundaries!”

“Oh, excuse me!” I matched his volume. “I don’t think a guy who had to run the plans for his
will
by his ex-girlfriend has any room to lecture on the topic of personal boundaries.”

“Don’t you dare bring that up, Sophie. We put that behind us. It’s not fair!”

“Fine! I rescind that example and substitute another.” I glared at him. “How about all the times we had to worry about whether or not your adult daughter who was living with us was going to overhear us doing it? How many times did that happen? Because it seems like it was a lot.”

He didn’t immediately respond, so I went on, “I know what’s wrong with you lately, okay? You’re upset because you know Stephen’s book is in the house, and you’re just waiting for it to pop out and scare you.”

The furrow of his brow and the hard set of his jaw told me that he wanted to stay angry. He turned away from me. “I stopped drinking.”

In the second that I was too shocked to speak, I did some mental math. Neil had been super cranky for a couple of weeks now. I’d noticed that he’d cut back a lot. He hadn’t been drinking wine at dinner, and he’d only had two drinks at his birthday party, which was usually a boozy celebration.

“You didn’t notice.” It wasn’t petulant of him to say so. It wasn’t like I’d failed to pick up on weight loss or a haircut. This was major.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maybe that sounded like an allegation, but it was the first thing that burst from my mouth. “I could have helped you. We could have gotten through this part together.”

I drank wine with dinner last night. I asked him if he wanted a beer last weekend
.

“I wanted to see if it
would
be noticeable.” He shrugged it off. “I suppose that’s the answer.”

“No, Neil, it’s noticeable.” Not in the way he probably wanted it to be noticeable. “You’re kind of…”

“Go ahead,” he said cautiously.

“You’re really cranky.” I held up my hands and dropped them. “I thought you were just upset about the book.”

“I am upset about the book.” His eyebrows rose and he blinked a few times as he took in a prolonged breath. “That’s why I stopped now. Doctor Harris has been trying to get me to quit entirely. He wanted me to do that from the beginning. It probably would have been easier.”

“How long have you been…off the sauce?” Ugh, could I have picked a worse way to phrase that?

“My last drink was the whiskey at my birthday party. I thought it would be fitting; new year, new beginning.” He went back to cutting up vegetables. His voice lower, he added, “I’m sorry I’ve been acting the way I have. It’s not an excuse.”

“It kind of is,” I argued, but gently. “Alcohol was one of your coping methods. Now, you’re having to endure stress and little daily frustrations without any kind of emotional release.”

Which was why he’d intentionally provoked the fight with my mother, I suspected. The Neil I knew—the one who hadn’t been going through withdrawal from a powerful, lifelong addiction—wouldn’t have done something so petty and destructive. Especially not where my family was concerned.

Unless this was the way Neil was without alcohol. That was an uncomfortable thought.

No way in hell was I going to start worrying about that this early into his sobriety. I went to his side and put my hand on his wrist carefully, to stop his hands and get his full attention. He turned to me, reluctant and ashamed. I didn’t let my gaze waver from his. “You could have told me. You shouldn’t have had to do this by yourself. Even if you did just want to see what would happen.”

“What happened is I discovered what a complete ass I am when I’m not drinking.” He exhaled audibly through his nose. Seeing Neil discouraged and disappointed in himself was enough to convince me that despite his self-assessment, the guy who’d been stalking around the house, complaining and snapping at me, was absolutely not the real Neil.

He went on, “You shouldn’t have to help me through this, Sophie. You’ve already put in your time.”

It took me a second to make the connection. “Helping you through cancer was not ‘putting in my time’. In sickness and in health, right? That’s not a one-time deal.”

“It still feels…unbalanced, at the very least.” But a corner of his mouth lifted. The gloom appeared to be lifting then his expression fell again. “I’m so sorry. Would you like me to speak with Rebecca?”

I considered. “No. We’re not going to apologize for doing what’s best for us. This is our life.”

“And here I am, driving another wedge between you and your mother.” He scraped the peppers into a prep bowl and reached for some parsley.

“She’ll get over it.” I shocked myself with the levelheaded way I brushed off my mom’s anger. I wanted her approval for this marriage, but if she didn’t give it… Oh well. “If she doesn’t, it doesn’t matter. I want you more than I want my mom to sign off on my life choices.”

“I should know better,” he said with a rueful smile. “I shouldn’t interfere between the two of you. We’re only given one mother. You’re lucky enough to have a good relationship with yours, as I had with mine. It would be unspeakably cruel of me to ruin it for you.”