Page 79 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
“My nonna helped raise us. My dad did what he could. He worked, he tried. But the message stuck: women leave. They love you, and then they leave.”
I glance up. Her pen is still, her gaze frozen.
“I’ve kept women at arm’s length my whole life. I don’t trust easily. And then this night in Vegas happened.”
I let out a dry laugh. It’s sharp and humorless.
“I don’t know why, but I trusted her. And she turned around and proved me right—and left me soaking in my own regret, and in her actual vomit, for good measure.”
Coach Saunders chokes. “I’m sorry, who did what again?”
“Fucking Maddy. Marlow! Mywife!” I snap, throwing my hands in the air.
Her eyes go wide, but she recovers quickly, smoothing her expression into something neutral.
“I see,” she says, clearing her throat. “And Maddy is…”
“I married her in Las Vegas. She said she’d stay. Said she wasn’t going to leave me like my mother did.”
“She said those exact words?”
“Not word-for-word, but close enough,” I mutter. “Now she’s demanding a divorce and call me petty, doc, but I don’t want to let her have it.”
Coach raises an eyebrow. “So what, you’re stalling?”
I shrug, damn near proud of it. “Let’s just say I’ve made itcomplicated.I ‘accidentally’ gave my lawyer the wrong spelling of her name on the first draft.”
She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the faint flicker of a smile tugging at her lips.
“Well,” I add, “shegavemethe wrong name when we got married. So technically, that one’s on her.”
“Sure. Let’s go with that,” she says, clearly humoring me. “What else have you done to drag out what should be a pretty quick procedure?”
“I sent her all the divorce papers in Italian and made her have them translated.”
She lets out a sigh, fighting a laugh. “Why, Declan?”
“Because I’m not done with her, doc,” I say, matter-of-fact. “And if she wants out, she’s gonna have toworkfor it.”
She starts scribbling something in her notes, probably labeling me emotionally unstable, unhinged, or whatever the clinical term is forirreparably broken hearted with a petty streak,but I keep going.
Because if I stop now, I’ll have to admit what all this really is.
Grief.
Love.
And the absolute refusal to let her become just another person who left.
“Then I had my lawyer add clauses that didn’t make sense. Like custody of a dog we never had; Nutmeg. I may have spent two full days in litigation arguing over visitation hours. That one was my personal favorite.”
Coach Saunders puts the pen down and just stares at me.
I stare right back.
Unapologetic.
Still not signing those papers.
