Clark straightened stiffly, and when his hand flexed possessively around the neck of the beautiful instrument I’d used to create my favorite songs, I felt his fingers on my throat choking me.
His tone was sharp and definitive. “This was a gift from my parents.”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “A wedding gift to us.”
I’d found his parents’ present both romantic and encouraging. Ultimately, I’d failed in my dream, but his parents had been more supportive of my journey than my own family had been.
The guitar was just the beginning.
I could forgive Clark for falling out of love with me. Even his confusion over his feelings developing for someone else . . . especially a man. It was obvious he was struggling with it.
But the year of cheating? And the fact he had no desire to ever come clean about it? Not to mention the way he treated me after he’d been caught . . . that was fucking unforgivable.
Once he’d proven he was a liar, I realized I couldn’t trust anything he said, including that he’d been safe with Derrick, and that he’d had no other partners over the last year. Clark and I hadn’t had sex in months, but there’d been overlap, and if he’d caught an STD, I was now exposed.
He was livid when I tracked down Derrick’s wife and confessed what I’d caught our husbands doing. I’d battled heavily with the decision to tell her. Clark had begged me not to tell our friends and family why we were getting divorced. Neither he nor Derrick were ready to be outed, and I didn’t have any desire to do that.
But his wife had a right to know her husband wasn’t faithful, and I wouldn’t have hesitated if I’d caught him with another woman. I was a firm believer that once a cheater, always a cheater, and if it were me—I’d want to know. Better to deal with the hurt now than waste years with a partner who lied and didn’t love you.
Clark said I’d done it solely to punish him and Derrick, and there was no convincing him otherwise. He turned cold and mean and left rude messages on my voicemail when I wouldn’t answer his calls. Each one of them tore my heart to shreds. I didn’t recognize this man anymore. He wasn’t even a shadow of the person I’d fallen in love with twenty years ago.
The same afternoon I’d had my first meeting with my attorney, I also had my consult with a plastic surgeon. Jenna drove me home after the surgery and stayed with me as my new size D breasts ached beneath their bindings.
It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. I didn’t care what anyone else thought, because I loved the way I looked now. Feminine and youthful and proportional. I had worked so hard to get healthy and fit, and my reward only motivated me to keep going with it.
The air conditioning in my kitchen did little to cool me down as I dropped the mail on the counter with a thud, followed by my purse. I glared at the letter, then sighed and slipped my finger beneath the flap, tearing it open.
The tension slipped from my shoulders as I read the cover letter from my divorce attorney, and then paged through the signed papers that followed.
It was official.
My marriage was dissolved.
My relief was so overwhelming, I gripped the edge of the counter with both hands to keep me upright. One long chapter of my life was finally closed.
I could hear Jenna’s voice in my head, urging me to start a new one. She’d been on me for the last two months to start putting myself out there, but it felt wrong to do that before my marriage was legally over.
There was nothing stopping me now.
Nothing except my crushing fear.
I’d been so oblivious to my relationship falling apart with Clark, how could I trust myself with someone new? I’d buried the sexy red bodysuit deep in my closet because it was too expensive to throw out, but it was stupid. I hadn’t been on a date in nearly two decades. By the time I found someone to wear it for, it probably wouldn’t fit anymore.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, cleansing the thought from my mind. It was a good day today. I was off work in the middle of the afternoon with no obligations. This called for a celebratory margarita. And when I opened my eyes and stared out the window at the backyard, my bright blue pool glistened back at me.
Even better.
I’d have my drink beside the pool and enjoy the fabulous weather while I finished listening to the demos. I had a brand-new peach-colored bikini I’d bought last month on sale in preparation for the summer. Today was the perfect day to wear it.
Once I’d changed and fixed my drink, I stepped out on the covered back patio and surveyed my options. There were chairs gathered around the table beneath an umbrella, or there was a set of lounge chairs next to the deep end of the pool shaded by the nearby pool house.
When Clark and I had moved in years ago, we’d had grand plans to turn it into a guest house, but those never materialized. The small house had electricity and plumbing, including a bathroom inside and an outdoor shower, but the floors were concrete, and the interior walls were just studs.
It meant the building was an oversized storage shed where we kept all the pool supplies and Christmas decorations. For a brief time after Clark had moved out, I’d considered turning it into a studio, but it didn’t make financial sense. Eventually, I would realize the house was too big for me, and if I were going to invest in it, a guest house was more practical.
My flip-flops slapped against the concrete patio as I carried my margarita, my phone, and a towel tucked under my arm toward the loungers. It didn’t take me long to spread out the towel and get situated on it, and then I was sipping my drink and slipping in my earbuds.
It’d been a hard ten months, but my broken heart and wounded pride had slowly healed as I’d settled into my new normal. In fact, other than the holidays, my life hadn’t changed all that much. Clark had begun fading from my life before I’d realized it. Now that it was done, perhaps the most shocking part was just how quickly he’d discarded two decades with me and moved on.
You should do the same, Jenna would tell me.
I adjusted my sunglasses, settled back in the chair, and tapped the ‘play’ icon on the screen of my phone.
I finished listening to the demos around the same time I finished my margarita, and after I fetched a refill, there were emails to be answered. I managed bookings for several of the artists at our agency and did everything from scheduling and negotiating payment, to writing up artists’ preferences and making sure those riders were provided to the events.
As I worked, the shade from the pool house began to recede. It was late enough in the day I hadn’t bothered with sunscreen anywhere other than on my face, so maybe I’d get a little color.
My phone rang, and Ardy’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty that I was day drinking. I was by no means drunk, but the tequila made me feel loose and smiley.
“Hey,” he responded. “We’re working up an idea, and I need you to hit the ground running with it.”
“Yeah?” I sat up and pressed my lips together. Don’t sound buzzed, Erika.
“For Stella’s final show of the tour, she wants to do something special. She got her start here in Nashville, so she wants to pay it forward. She’s hoping to audition some locals and pick one to be her opening act that night. Johnny from her promo team was thinking we could shoot the talent scouting as a web series and have her fans help her choose the winner.”