Silva and the Stars

20 | this is the end

Mary, my attorney, rearranges the papers before her until the last paper in our collaborative divorce proceeding is on top. The page seems to leap out at me, going for my jugular. Hot panic flashes through me.

Technically, it isn't necessary for a divorce settlement - especially a no-fault, uncontested divorce. But I knew it was the right thing to do.

Across the conference table sits Rachel; black hair cascading over her shoulders, hazel eyes burning ombre until the gold, green and browns melt together from light to dark.

She's sitting straight, seemingly relaxed, but there's an edge of rigidity to her movements which undermines her confident posture. She's wearing a sky blue blazer and a white dress, and since she entered the room I've had no less than twenty thoughts of ways I could remove both.

Slowly, with both hands. My teeth scraping along her neck.

"Can we have a moment?" I ask Mary and Rachel's attorney, Luke.

Rachel frowns but doesn't argue as she follows me out of the conference room. The door snicks shut behind us.

"I hate this," I tell her. My gaze latches on to her fluttering pulse. I want to press my lips there. Breathe my apologies and regrets and unrequited love onto her soft skin.

Breathe new life into our dying relationship.

The other night, after a meeting we'd had with a client, I thought I'd had a chance. After our client had left the restaurant, we had continued to relax with glasses of wine. She had laughed at my jokes, needling me with dry wit, and providing insights into how our company had progressed. 

Then, she had leaned into my side as I hailed her a taxi home, her warmth and touch reminding me of everything we had shared. And right when she'd been about to get in, her lips had glanced across my cheek. "I wish you were coming with me," she'd said.

My heart had shuddered.

"I miss watching Game of Thrones with you. I can't bring myself to watch it without you there." Her mouth had been warm, lips reddened by the wine and still so precariously close to mine. She'd pulled away and laughed, "I hired Luke for our collaborative divorce."

And like that, the moment was broken.

While Luke didn't work at our company Lawson & Silva, he'd been in our cohort in law school. He was great at law, especially collaborative law, but I wondered if Rachel knew that he had the hots for her.

I had gritted my teeth, her words a needed reminder that she could have anyone she wanted after me. Maybe she'd already started?

I'm drawn back into the present as Rachel states simply, "I can't go back to what it was before. This is the only way."

My shoulders soften in defeat. "I know." I smile half-heartedly. "This is where the end starts."

I reach out, finding the wedding ring she's still wearing. The white gold band matches my own. Gently, I pull it off her finger. It feels intimate and heartbreaking. That I'm so close to her and that she's letting me touch her - but that this is the last time. "I guess you won't be needing this anymore."

With the exception of that dinner, the last month had been mostly stilted conversations, while we had sorted out the mess Connor had made. Rachel and I had spent the last few weeks campaigning tirelessly so that our clients understood that they were no less of a priority since our father's death.

Still, it was difficult to run a company with your ex. Who you were still technically married to.

I could tell Rachel found the situation awkward and uncomfortable as well, and I hated the reminder every time I saw her that I'd put her in that position. That I'd taken more than she was willing to give. That I hadn't given to her when she needed it most. It was selfish and unreasonable to still want more.