Page 123 of Just Trouble

“Be reasonable, Daphne!” He stands up, smiles, and prepares to make an appeal.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not saying anything worth listening to,” he counters, as if that’s reasonable. “You know that I know best.”

“No, I don’t know that. I know that we have irreconcilable views of our respective futures,” I say. “I don’t want to get back together with you. I don’t want a job at the firm again. I don’t want to renovate your kitchen or marry you or have your kids. In fact, I don’t want to see you ever again.” I open the door. “I want you to leave.”

He doesn’t move. “You used to believe we were good together.”

“That’s true. I did. I was wrong. I realized that when you followed your dick to another woman’s bed.”

“Daphne!”

“It’s what you did and I see now that it was inevitable. So, thanks Justin. Thanks for doing it sooner rather than later. Otherwise, we might have been married. My dream kitchen might have been in your house when I realized what a prick you are. We might have had those kids already, and it would have been a lot messier to pick our lives apart. This way it was simple, and as you say, neither of us are getting any younger. I’m glad I still have time to be happy, so thanks for that.” I indicate the open door.

Mrs. Prescott is listening avidly while pretending not to.

Justin looks at me, then at the door, and his jaw sets when he meets my gaze again. Anger has settled in his eyes, the anger of a man who isn’t used to being denied whatever he wants. But I’m smart enough to realize that he doesn’t really want me. I’m no more important than a chess piece being moved into place. For all I know, the senior partners have told him that he has to get married and be settled appropriately before he can be promoted again. For all I know, the union has been approved, like a royalmarriage to secure dynasties and maybe add a firmer chin to the future lineage.

I want more.

I want to make my own choice.

I want someone who listens to me.

I want someone who loves me for myself.

“You’re going to regret this,” he says, the exit line of every loser in the history of mankind.

“I’ll get over it,” I assure him and his nostrils flare before he marches past me and leaves. He slams the door of the office, then the door of his car, the engine roaring to life. The tires squeal and he’s gone in a puff of exhaust, racing back to the life he wants.

The one I don’t.

I sit down, my knees shaking a little in the aftermath and the phone on my desk rings. I pick up, say my name.

“Well done,” my dad says with such approval that I smile. “Your mother was right. He was never going to make you happy.”

“I know,” I say and I hear that he smiles along with me.

“I invested in your young man’s venture this morning, by the way,” he says. “And he’s joining us for breakfast tomorrow. Just so you know.”

“You’ve decided that you like him,” I say and he chuckles.

“I have. I like him very much.”

34

LUKE

And so it begins, an era closer to perfection than anything I’ve ever known. Daph and I settle into a routine so easily it might have been destined to be. I like the look of my guitar in the living room, my coat and boots in the closet instead of just inside the door: I’m a resident instead of a guest. I like discovering my clothes in the closet every morning—Daph cleared out half, but I really only need a sliver of space, so she spread her things back out.

I love seeing her clothes against mine.

I love finding her house key on my key ring and sliding my thumb across it during the day. I love working on that song in her living room in the evening. I make a lot of progress on Wednesday nights when she’s out. I usually walk to wherever to escort her home and we talk on the way. I love that fluffy bathrobe and the smell of her skin on the sheets, the thrill of waking up pressed against her.

I love being with her even more. She sleeps later than I do, so I get up as quietly as I can and go for my run. I quickly figure out the timing so that I can get back in time to make coffee before she wakes up. She’s adorably sleepy in the mornings and I can’t wait for the days when everything settles down and I can lingerin bed in the morning, just to watch her wake up. Right now, I’m running on deadlines and adrenaline, with way too much to do.

She revises her list of my supposed assets, by the way, and the vee barely makes the cut. Apparently, the sexiest thing about me is that I’m tidy. Live and learn.

---