“Why are you having him play soccer? It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t even like soccer, Mad.”
Rolling her eyes, she acts like even being in the same room as me annoys the everliving fuck out of her. “It’s good for him to do something that helps him fit in with the other kids.”
“Why are we trying to make him be something he’s not. Let him be who he wants to be, not what’s socially acceptable. He’s almost seven. If we start telling him who has to be now, what’s that teaching him?”
“He asked me to play soccer, Ridley,” she says with a light bitterness to her tone.
“Well, he spent the whole practice reading hisNational Geographic. And I met some of the other dads. They seem like fucking tools if you ask me.” I smile and believe me when I say it’s condescending, and I’ve fucking perfected that smile. “Who’s Kent?”
Madison shrugs and I kind of believe the shrug. “I don’t know, some other dad.”
“What about that Kip guy you were talking about? Who’s he?”
This look isn’t as believable. Kip is someone Ineedto look into. “Nobody.”
There’s a sourness in the pit of my stomach. Has she turned to someone else? “Nobody my ass,” I mumble with a regretful shake of my head as I push away from the door. “I’m not leaving here until you give me some answers.”
I’m given a stare I don’t like very much. Do you see that lift of her eyebrow and the pressed-together lips? She’s pissed at me. “So now you want answers?”
I attempt to offer her a similar look, but I’m not sure I achieved it. By the way her expression doesn’t change, I’m sure mine did nothing to faze her. “Well, yeah, you served me with divorce papers.”
“Maybe you should stop focusing on the actual papers and the fact that I gave them to you and think about why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that just like I said before, when was the last time you were home at three in the afternoon? Never. And the only reason you came home was because you didn’t get answers and wanted them. Well, I want things too. I want a husband who actually gives a shit about me and our sons.”
I know what you’re thinking. If your wife filed for divorce because you’re never around, why not just change it and spend more time at home?
The truth is, I love my wife and I love my kids. I don’t work long hours because Idon’twant to be around them. I work them to provide a life for us, one where they enjoy the comforts I never had being raised by essentially a single mother.
I had a relationship with my dad, but I didn’t live with him. Until my mom died and I was forced to. Up until then, it had just been my mother and me, and I swore, fucking swore Madison would never live like that.
“How can you say I don’t care?” I take a seat on the bed, facing her. “You have more than enough money, and you never have to ask me for anything. If you want something, you know I’ll give it to you.”
“You’re hardly home anymore.”
“Because I’m working and providing for you and our boys!”
When she lifts her eyes to mine, pain clouds them. “Ineverasked you to marry me, Ridley.”
For a moment, I freeze, my mouth open and my eyes wide with shock. Did she really just say that to me? I know what she’s referring to. Madison got pregnant with Callan when we were in college, and by most standards, he was an accident. “But I did, marry you,” I tell her, hoping she understands I didn’t do it because I had to.
She’s somewhat quiet, but if her thoughts were spoken, she’d be screaming at me with the look I’m getting. “And now you’re married to your job.”
Do you see that guy on the bed? The one where his blood pressure is through the roof and he’s about ready to explode on his wife? That guy is losing it. In a matter of seconds.
“You’re so focused on running your business you’ve forgotten about us, Ridley.” She sits forward and it does nothing for my focus because I have a clear vision of her breasts hanging out of her nightgown. “And I’m not doing it anymore. So yeah, I want a divorce. I’m not sure I’m in love with you anymore because the truth is, I don’t even know who you are. And I bet you don’t know me anymore either.”
I should be insulted, really. “That’s not true.”
“Really? You don’t think so?” The look on her face makes me want to kiss and strangle her at the same time. If there’s any woman who’s ever gotten on my nerves more than anyone else, it’s Madison.
“No, I know you.” I look at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought but I’m not. I’m thinking about her tits and wishing my dick was between them.
“Okay, what do I eat for breakfast every morning?”
Well shit. Could she have picked a more complicated question? Don’t answer that. She could have. “Eggs?”