Page 43 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
I need her to hear this from me so she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
EIGHTEEN
Etta
Having time to weed my long neglected gardens is absolute joy for me. I love autumn days. It’s still warm but cool enough for a long-sleeved shirt. The sun isn’t beating down, so extended time outside doesn’t cause me any kind of heat stroke while I’m exerting my energy.
Sitting on my front steps sipping a glass filled with ice cold lemonade, I watch Thor and Herc as they roll around in the freshly mowed grass. Coming back home from the retreat with a to-do list a mile long, I’d woken up this morning ready to attack it, but oddly found myself losing energy and motivation as the day progressed.
Since moving here, life has been like a small car stuffed with clowns. I know the car is there, and I know the clowns are in it, but I don’t know what clown is gonna come out first…and let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t like clowns.
Moving to Sweetkiss Creek was supposed to be my new chapter, starting over. I closed the door and thought we were moving on, but with the stink that is Steve still pungent in the air, it turns out I shoulda nailed that sucker shut.
Steve. I’ll never understand how we got here. We’d been together for about three years and I think he thought asking me to marry him was what he was supposed to do—like me saying yes was what I thought I was supposed to do.
I’d realized a couple years in that we’d already grown apart. When the time came to discuss it, I had worried for weeks about talking to him about my feelings. In the end, I didn’t need to; he had listened with open ears and we’d agreed mutually that we’re better friends and business partners.
I almost choke on an ice cube when I think that last part. Business partners. My former business partner is now trying to sue me and accomplish what…tying my hands? The pit in my stomach sloshes around, feeling like an acid storm or some kind of explosion. If only I could impress on Steve the stress he’s causing, but I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out one at a time, thank you very much.
I tip the glass back and drink the last drop of my lemonade as a car slows down and turns into my driveway. Both dogs freeze in their spots, watching as the vehicle rolls slowly toward the house. It’s not a car I recognize, but the driver is.
As the driver’s side door opens, I set my glass down and stand up, putting my hands on my hips and watching the dogs race over and bark at the car’s occupant. “You don’t take no for an answer well, do you?”
Shielding his eyes from the sun rays dipping behind my house, Steve cocks his head to one side. “I figured if I came to you, I may get further than trying to text you, or call, or email…”
“Or go through lawyers?”
She shoots, she scores, folks. I watch as his head dips. Are his cheeks red with embarrassment, or did he have the heat up in his car?
“That is fair.” Steve holds his hands in front of him in surrender while Thor and Hercules circle him happily. “I come in peace. Are you alone, or is your boyfriend here?”
“I’m alone.” I thread my arms across my chest stubbornly. “What do you want?”
He walks forward and points to the chairs on my porch. “Can we sit and talk at least?”
Watching the dogs sniff his ankles, a part of me wishes one of them would bite him. But they’re my dogs and I trained them well. And Steve was always good to them, so of course they’re excited to see him. Still, it’s a lot to handle, so I open the front door and shoo them inside before I take a seat, indicating to Steve to take the other.
“Okay,” I say, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other. “Talk.”
“I want to talk about the lawsuit.”
“You know you don’t have any right to that lawsuit, don’t you?”
“I wanted to get your attention.”
“Oh you have it, alright. You got my attention. Now, what do you want?”
Steve clasps his hands. “I never wanted it to get this far. My lawyer is furious with me. The judge called him and told him our case would be chucked out and that I was gonna lose.”
“Because it’s frivolous.”
“I know, and I don’t need to be reminded.” The expression that flashes across his face tells me he’s sorry before he even says it. “Sorry, I’m just mad at myself.”
“Why are you doing any of this?” Shaking my head, I stand up and walk across to the other side of the porch from where he sits. I work hard to control my voice as I speak. “We had an agreement. Things were fine when we split up and decided to go our separate ways. You never said a thing about wanting the business for yourself or making it a chain or whatever it is you wanted to do at the time we were getting a divorce. Why now?”
“I didn’t know at that time that you were leaving, as in moving,” Steve blurts out in a rush, his words toppling over one another.
“Why does it matter?”
