“You don’t think it’s a bit extreme? Shouldn’t I just be able to talk to her about this?”
“This is Myla we’re talking about,” Banner says. “She doesn’t operate on the same wavelength as others. When she’s hurt, she feels that hurt down to her bones. You might want to solve this like two mature adults looking for a solution, but Myla doesn’t work like that.”
Penn swats my shoulder. “And who’s to say this is actually what she wants? This could be a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Divorce is a bit extreme for a knee-jerk reaction,” I say. “She might be walking to the beat of her own drum, but she wouldn’t do anything this harsh just for the hell of it.”
“Which is why this plan will work.” Penn taps his phone.
“I don’t know.” I waver back and forth.
“What do you have to lose?” Banner asks. “Your wife? Well, man, you’re already halfway there.”
“Trust me, this will work,” Penn says with unbridled confidence.
I lean back in my chair and let out a large sigh. It’s frightening that I’m even considering this plan, given the absurdity of it, but then again, I don’t think I have many options.
They’re right. If I tell her I’ll give her a divorce, she won’t be so defensive.
She may be more open to talking to me when she’s not defensive.
When she’s open to talking, that’s when I’ll figure out what’s going on.
This should work . . . right?
Only one way to find out.
“Okay . . . I’ll do it.”
“Thatta boy.” Penn slaps me on the shoulder. “Aren’t you excited? You have a plan.”
“Yeah, maybe . . .” I twist my coffee cup. “But . . .” I sigh. “I’m fucking pissed.”
“Oh, wasn’t expecting that,” Banner says as he props his arm on the table. “Why are you pissed?”
“Because.” I look up at both of them. “Out of everything Myla and I have been through, rather than trying to save our marriage, she’s throwing it away.” She’s thought about this for a long time if she’s already seen a lawyer, discussed the split of assets, and had the papers drawn up. As if I mean nothing to her at all. “This is how she wants to end it?” I shake my head. “It’s fucking bullshit.”
Banner winces. “Yeah, good idea, get that out now because I don’t think going back to the house with that sort of attitude will help the situation.”
Grumbling to myself, I stand from my chair. “I’m out.”
“Wait, why? You’re still angry. Sit down and work through it.”
“It’s only going to make me angrier. I just need to get this conversation with Myla over with and then go from there.”
Penn steadies his hand against my stomach, stopping me from my retreat. “Dude, I think it’s in your best interest to just take a second. I know you’re hurt and frustrated, and this doesn’t seem fair. I’m sure this plan is not how you want to handle things, but this could give you the time you need to fix things. So just sit down and talk out the feelings. You don’t want to do something stupid when you get back home . . . like piss her off even more.”
“Too late for that,” I say as I push past Penn and head out to my car.
Chapter Two
RYOT
Eleven years ago . . .
“Dude, you didn’t dress up.” Banner looks me up and down.
“That’s what you’re going to say to me? Not great game, nice job hitting two home runs? And that diving play at third, that was epic?”
Banner rolls his eyes. “Yeah, great job on the field. You’re a real magician with a ball. Now tell me why the fuck you didn’t dress up when you knew you were coming to a costume party at the bar?”
“Halloween in May is dumb,” I say as I take a seat next to him at the bar.
“It’s their play on Christmas in July, Halloween in May. Now all the slutty nurses won’t freeze to death. It’s brilliant if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” I say as I steal Banner’s full beer.
Banner turns toward me, one arm resting on the bar top. “Care to explain why you’re acting like a dick?”
“I’m tired. The last thing I want to do is go to a costume party for a fake Halloween in May, but since you asked, I’m here.”
Banner pokes at the corner of my lip and tilts it upward. “You’re here, but I’ll need you here with a smile.”
“You’re asking too much,” I say just as someone bumps into my shoulder, causing my beer to slosh over the sides of the pint glass and all down my hand. “Jesus,” I say as I spin around to find . . . well, two slutty nurses.
“Oops, did we bump into you?” one of the girls asks.
“Yeah, you did.”
“Nichole?” Banner says, looking over my shoulder.
“Oh hey . . . uh, Brandon.”
I snort as Banner’s smile droops. “It’s Banner.”
“Oh right.” She steps up between us now. Wearing a white shirtdress, she has the top few buttons undone, showing off cleavage that is propped up by a red bra. “Banner, the best sex of my life, still to date.” She pulls the other girl forward. “You remember my friend, Myla, right?”
I twist just in time to see the grape girl who ruined my flag next to Nichole. And holy fucking shit is she hot.
Sure, when I came home from my game and found her on my couch drinking a Capri Sun and eating my grapes, I thought she was pretty, but I was too clouded by my irritation to really take note. When I saw that she commented on my post the next day, I checked out her profile, which didn’t show much of her. Actually, her account has been dedicated to taking up-close pictures of her drinks—my Capri Sun being featured. It was such an odd account, so I decided to follow it, never expecting her to follow me back.
I considered asking her what was with the pictures of drinks but moved on quickly.
Now that she’s here, in this getup, I’m thinking maybe I should have asked her about the drinks, because fuck. Her tits nearly kiss her chin, and her hair is pulled up but with tendrils cascading down and framing her face. Her nurse’s shirt-dress falls to her upper thighs, thighs so goddamn thick my mouth waters, and she’s wearing the brightest red lipstick I’ve ever seen. A red so bright, I wonder what it would look like all over my body.
“Yes, I remember Myla. You’re the one who used our flag as a blanket,” I coolly say.
Myla raises her hand cutely. “Guilty.” Then she turns to me and asks, “Invest in any snacks yet?”
“Not so much,” I answer.
She shakes her head in disappointment. “You disappoint me.”
“Are you girls hungry?” Banner asks. “We can grab a table upstairs and get something to eat.”
“I don’t have my wallet,” Myla says. “It didn’t fit in my cleavage.”
“I have exactly twenty-nine dollars,” Nichole says. “That’s what fits in mine.”