Page 110 of The Promises We Break

“Does Ford own any buildings with upcoming renewals on their leases, or would we need to look into getting a real estate agent to purchase one?” I divert my energy back to a conversation I’m comfortable with.

“We’ll have plenty of time to figure that stuff out tomorrow. Tell me about you.” He twists in his chair to face mine, giving me even more of his undivided attention.

And suddenly, my chair is a stage, the heat of his stare like a blinding spotlight.

Tell me about you.

I pause. Way too long, I pause.

“Well, I love marketing and I’m good at my job.” I smile with a shy confidence. I hate talking about myself, but that much is true.

“I already know that.” He smiles kindly, sensing my nerves. “What do you do for fun? What makes Ember, Ember?”

Fun? What do I do for fun?

Well. Shit.

I do a lot of things for fun.

Experiment with sex toys with my fake husband. Eat pizza on Friday nights and go to Sunday morning matinees—again with my fake husband. Talk baseball with a group of supportive women, even though my baseball talk consists of the bare basic language. Play charades with my fake husband’s family and laugh until our cheeks hurt.

“I love crossword puzzles and reading.” Another long ass, awkward pause passing between us. God, I’m so boring. Crossword puzzles and reading? I might as well tell him I like to crochet and watch infomercials.

“Baseball. I like watching baseball,” I spit out, recalling how much I’ve fallen in love with the game this past season.

“Ah, yes. I had the pleasure of meeting your husband at the party on Saturday.” Just the mention of the word husband makes my pulse kick up another beat.

I force a smile and try to think of something else to say.

His eyes drift down to where my nervous hands are placed over my lap. My fingers promoted themselves from picking at the nail beds to rubbing the skin off at the base of my ring finger that now sits bare, since I left the ring on the kitchen island.

I didn’t feel comfortable taking it.

I also couldn’t bring myself to sign the papers.

So, I left the ring and took the papers, leaving nothing else behind. Like I had to erase myself from the existence of our home.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re no longer wearing your ring,” he mentions, as a statement. I think. Not a question. But it probably deserves an answer that I’m struggling to come up with.

“We—I—I mean… It’s complicated?” Well, ain’t that the truth?

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replies with a compassionate smile, as his eyes bounce around the cabin of the plane.

Right.

We have another few hours left in the flight, and there’s no really avoiding this.

“He’s been offered a contract with the Smashers, and I want to go to New York. It’s something I’ve always dreamed of for myself.” I anxiously tuck my hair behind my ear, then flip the front of my hair over to the side, ruining said tuck.

I need a haircut. Hudson got a haircut before the opening, and Jesus, he looked mouth watering when he showed up in his tux. My mind is all over the place, wandering, and I wonder how long it will take to stop wandering back to him.

Probably never.

I hate it. I hate feeling so torn.

“We’re just on two different paths right now.” I leave it at that.

Factually, that is the truth.

---