Page 70 of One Last Shot

I hit the button on screen to call him, and I’m surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“What?”

The one-word greeting further inflames my temper. “What the hell is going on, Aleksandr?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” he says. The cool, indifferent tone that carries across the phone surprises me.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, much less why you’re upset.”

“What makes you think I’m upset?” His voice couldn’t be flatter, more devoid of emotion, if he were a robot.

“Besides the fact that you left without saying goodbye, ignored my messages today, and didn’t even send Stella a goodnight message?” Not to mention his WTF response to the photo of Stella and me.

He pauses for a beat. “I forgot about the goodnight message for Stella. Today was really busy.”

“Fair enough. But why are you ignoring me?” I hate that I have to ask this question. It feels childish, as though we’re still teenagers who haven’t figured out how to communicate with each other, instead of adults in a sexual relationship. Part of the reason I never sleep with anyone more than once is that way I don’t have to partake in these cat and mouse games. Breaking my rules for him was obviously a mistake.

“Why don’t you ask Charlie?”

Now it’s my turn to pause. “How do you know about Charley?”

“Accidentally overheard you on the phone with him before I left.”

Several things click into place with the use of that pronoun. “Aleksandr, Charley is a woman.”

I can hear his breath hitch and can envision his eyebrows dipping as he works through this new piece of information. “Wait, you’re in another relationship with awoman?”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. “A professional one, yes.”

“Please explain.” The words are flat, a demand instead of a request.

I consider that my contract prohibits me from sharing details of the show with anyone but immediate family. I shared that information with Jackson because she’s essentially a sister to me, rationalizing that she’d be the only one that I’d tell. But Aleksandr is actually the only person my contract would technically permit me to tell about this, because we’re legally married.

“I really wish we were having this conversation in person,” I say, shifting to set my laptop on the bed next to me so I can lean further back into the pillows, letting them engulf me when I wish I was in his arms instead.

No response, just the sound of his breathing.

“I need to emphasize that everything I’m telling you right now is completely confidential. The only reason I’m able to even tell you is because we’re married.”

“Noted,” he says.

“I need you to tell me that you will keep this information to yourself and not tell a single other person.”

“What if it’s something the lawyer we’re meeting with this week needs to know?” he asks.

“She will need to know, and we’ll tell her.”

A small grunt escapes on the other end of the phone. “So this is relevant to me adopting Stella, then. When were you going to share this with me?”

I probably should have already told him, but I’d been so wrapped up in how things were changing between us, trying to figure out what our evolving relationship meant, that I didn’t want to throw something else into the mix. He knew I was leaving, what difference did it make if it were for this show or for the business I’d been painstakingly growing for the past few years?

“I would have told you before we met with the lawyer,” I assure him.

“Okay, so?” he prompts.

“I’m moving to LA. I’m going to be hosting a show, like a60 Minutes-type talk show that interviews women who have overcome great obstacles to redefine success in their field. It’s calledAnd Yet We Riseand we start filming in two weeks. This morning I was on the phone with my producer, Charley, finalizing some details about the start of the show.”

There’s a pause on his end as I imagine he needs a moment to absorb this information.

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