Resentment builds in me until I nearly explode. I slam each and every wedding photo face down until I can’t see her deceitful face anymore. I bask in the sound of glass cracking, not caring that I’m only adding to the mess that I’ll have to clean up later.
I struggle to even put into words how I feel about my ex-wife right now. She used to be my sweetheart, my darling, my bae. Now, I can think of a few choice names for her, but Ma would probably have a fainting spell if she ever heard me utter them out loud.
After everything—after everything I sacrificed—Gabby still had the nerve to abandon our daughter. What part of ‘till death do us part was that? I would have willingly taken a bullet for that woman. What I didn't realize is that she was the one holding the gun to the back of my head.
Yes, it stings that she betrayed me, she left me, she slammed me with divorce papers instead of waiting for me like I expected her to. But it’s what she did to Callie that burns my blood.
What am I supposed to tell that sweet kid in a few years when she’s asking about her mama?
My fucking world is in shambles. All because of one selfish woman. Hell, I haven’t met a decent woman yet.
I step into my kitchen, hoping to leave some of my angst behind. There’s a giant spider web crisscrossing the light fixture above the sink and a couple of water-stained glasses in the dish drainer, but I ignore them.
Moving over to the fridge, I brace myself. I don’t know what to expect. Creepy-crawly things slithering along the glass shelves? Strange-colored sticky stuff oozing through unsealed containers? Noxious fumes seeping from the cartons and plastic bags and three-year-old take-out containers? It’s bound to be a dystopian scene in there. Everything is well past its due date.
Holding my breath, I dare to pull the door open.
But aside from a box of baking soda deodorizer, the shelves are empty. Clean and dry. Looks like Mom cleaned that out, also.
My shoulders slump. I really was too harsh with my parents at breakfast. They’ve been taking care of my kid for years without expecting anything in return.
And how do I thank them? By yelling at them and acting like an ungrateful douchehat. I scrub a rough palm down my face. Carrying around all this bitterness is exhausting.
I didn’t always used to be this much of an asshole. My parents and I used to be close. For years, I worked every day, shoulder-to-shoulder with my Dad and Gramps in Kingston Realty Holdings, and eventually I took over as CEO. I was an upstanding member of the community. I was on the board of Crescent Harbor’s merchants’ association. Magazines used to feature me as an up and coming business leader. I used to volunteer at community organizations alongside Gabby.
But three years ago, I made decisions. Decisions that tore me away from my daughter and our home. I based those decisions on the information I had available at the time. In retrospect, some of the things I did were stupid. But dwelling on that won’t solve a thing. It’s time to pick up the pieces and move on. For Callie’s sake.
That starts with making our house liveable again.
I shove the window open to let in some of the fresh air billowing across the surface of the river. I stare out at the sprawling woods and the water beyond.
It’s not so hard to remember how beautiful this place used to be. Maybe I can make it beautiful again.
A ringing phone cracks through the silence of the room, startling me. It takes me a second to realize that the sound is coming from the ancient device buried in my back pocket. The prison guards handed it back to me in a sealed envelope, along with my keys and wallet, when I was released. I’m shocked to realize that this piece of crap can still receive calls. I figured it’d be completely outdated by now.
By the time I manage to fish it out of my pocket, the ringing has stopped. I glance at the screen of my phone and realize that the call came through on WhatsApp. All the buildings on the family property are on the same wifi network so I’m guessing the phone must have automatically connected.
A notification pops up, alerting me that I just received an audio recording from my mother. I hesitate a second and draw in a deep breath before hitting play on the file.
Mom’s tender, soothing voice pours through the speakers. “Eli, dear, I know that things didn’t go too smoothly this morning at breakfast but we really do need to finish our conversation. I’m cooking a family dinner tomorrow night. Six o’clock.” She pauses. “I know that you’re angry. And we have a lot to work through as a family. But please tell me you’ll be there. Your father and I would really like to see you again.”
Apprehension tenses the back of my neck. After the way breakfast went, sitting around the dinner table for another meal with my family is the last thing I want right now.
My brothers are winning at this ‘life’ thing. They’ve all settled down with good women. Walker runs the most successful farm in the area. Jude is a star tight-end for the best pro football team in the league. As for Cannon, he’s a freaking billionaire.
And then, there’s me. I’m the family disappointment. The convict. The one who fell from grace in the most spectacular way. The one no one trusts.
There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to family dinner.
Powering off the phone, I pause in front of my bedroom. It was right inside that sterile, lifeless room that my marriage first started to crumble. My foot connects with my bedroom door, kicking it hard against the wall. Too many bad memories in there.
