Disclaimer: Unfortunately, playing on Charlaine Harris' playground does not give me ownership rights. Rated M for language and later lemons.
1. Barely Breathing…
Okay Sookie. Deep breath.
It ended up taking five more of those breaths to settle me enough for my hand to stop trembling as I reached for the doorknob. The door swung inward to reveal a glaringly average conference room. The step I took forward lost me the calm all that damn breathing had gained. There were two men in the room. On a normal day, my gaze would have struck immediately to the six-foot-five blonde god in the Armani suit standing closest to the far windows. But today was not a normal day. The other man in the room looked like your run-of-the-mill lawyer type, complete with the requisite expensive suit, designer shoes, eighty dollar haircut, and default smug expression. Both men turned when the door opened.
"Ms. Stackhouse," the dark-haired lawyer said as he extended his hand to shake mine and offered a wide smile.
"Mr. Cataliades. How are you today?"
"I'm well, thank you. Now that you and Mr. Northman are both here, let us begin."
When his name was mentioned, he couldn't be ignored anymore. Eric. My husband… or, in about twenty minutes, my ex-husband. I'd known his eyes were following me before, his gaze feeling like a burden on the back of my head, but I didn't trust myself to turn my whole body toward him without betraying every ounce of longing I carried for him and throwing myself at his feet. The small glimpse out of the corner of my eye forced my heart to clench and soon that one glance wasn't enough. I don't know who I was trying to fool. One glance would never be enough. He'd always been the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I did what I swore I wouldn't and raked my eyes over his body from bottom to top. Unashamedly staring. He was wearing the shoes he hated, the ones he wore to his father's funeral 3 years ago and vowed never to wear again. They matched the custom charcoal grey suit covering his frame. The cobalt blue flecks in his tie brought attention to the cobalt blue in his eyes… and what I saw there hurt me more than all the rest. It had taken me quite awhile to get past the tough outer shell he shows the world. He always has to be the consummate businessman, never out of control. I'd broken his "calm and calculating" mask in half and never thought I'd see it directed at me again. The eyes that had expressed so much love and joy in the early years of our marriage were closed to me now. The mask was back with a vengeance.
"So you both agree to the terms we've worked out. Let's review briefly and then the only thing left is for you to sign these and I'll submit them to the courts."
Eric's gaze still held mine so I think I nodded subtly but I can't be sure. The rustling of paper brought me out of my reverie. I sat in the hard-backed chair closest to my left and Eric took that as his cue to take his place across from me. I listened as Mr. Cataliades outlined the division of mine and Eric's life together. The apartment Eric brought me home to after our honeymoon stays with me… the bar where we met stays with him… the vacation house in Sweden to him… I kept my new Lexus… the list went on and on.
How did I get here?
When we met seven years ago, I'd never have imagined myself a 32-year-old woman, seconds away from being divorced from the love of her life.
Of course, as I'd found many, many times in my life, the answer to my question was in Eric's eyes.
My deepest, darkest fear had been realized. Eric was tired of me.
It was no secret that he'd led a fast life before we met. Women fell at his feet, employees jumped to do his bidding, business associates went out of their way to accommodate him and he brushed through it all unaffected. I was probably the first woman not to worship at the altar of Eric immediately and that intrigued him. He rose to the challenge and convinced me he felt something genuine. He promised he didn't miss his old life multiple times and meant it. At the time. But who can predict such things?
It's been almost 2 years since he started staying late at the bar instead of coming home before I fell asleep. Soon after, he began to forget to call when he'd be staying. On the nights I did see him, our conversations were often strained. His mind was elsewhere and I knew it. The only times I had his complete attention were when we made love. I craved those times like an addict in withdrawal.
Eventually our verbal exchanges whittled down to the necessities and nothing more. So a year ago, I made the most difficult decision I've ever faced and asked Eric for a divorce.
We'd just finished our second round of sex that night. I blurted the words out quickly, thinking it was then or never. He was my ultimate weakness and my nerve was failing. He obviously wanted his freedom back and I was going to give it to him, no matter what it did to me. I'll carry the image of his shocked expression with me to the grave. I couldn't stop a small flicker of hope to ignite when he silently stared at me for several moments. Would it really be too much to wish he'd refuse?
Then that damned cold mask slid into place and his personality detached from his eyes as he whispered "Okay."
My heart fell to my stomach like lead. I furiously pushed back my tears and barely voiced my own "Okay." Eric got up from the bed and put his boxers back on. He exited the room, leaving me naked, vulnerable, and alone to surrender to the pain. Even thinking about the moment I watched him disappear through the door caused a hitch in my breath. I didn't realize I'd made a sound until Mr. Cataliades' voice tore me out of the memory.
"Are you alright, Ms. Stackhouse?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yes. Sorry."
"I just need a few signatures from you. One copy for you, one for Mr. Northman, and one for the courts."
"Yes, of course," I said, taking the offered pen from him.
I signed quickly, hoping to minimize the shaking in my hand. After witnessing Eric's signatures, I thanked Mr. Cataliades and rushed to the door. By the grace of God, I made it out of the room before the first tear fell.
o-o
I didn't even make it to the elevator. I slumped against the wall just outside Cataliades & Associates and fumbled around my handbag for the tissues I'd shoved in earlier.
Hitting pay dirt, I pulled them out and wiped furiously underneath my eyes. I took a couple of "mediation breaths", briefly wondering if all this oxygen was doing more than just making me lightheaded. By the time I heard my phone ring, I had pulled myself together enough to answer it.
Sam.
There would always be a soft spot in my heart for my old boss but the feelings he's had for me for years had strained our relationship almost too far.
"Hey Sam."
"How ya doin', chere?"
"I'm just leaving my lawyer's office."
"Aw shit, Sook. That was today? I was just callin' to see if you wanted to meet me at Laf's for coffee."
The part of me that wanted to go home, close the curtains, and shut the day out almost won but that was no beginning for the rest of my life.
"Sure. I can meet you in 10 minutes. I'm just down the street."
"Actually I'm coming up on you now. Sit tight and I'll meet you in front of the building."
"Okay. See you then."
I closed my phone and had just enough time to check my face in my compact for tearstains while taking the elevator down to the lobby. As I stepped out into the sunshine, Sam was rounding the corner of the building. He offered his warmest smile when I fell in step with him on our way to our friend Lafayette's bakery.
The sun backlit Sam's head, making his hair look like a strawberry-blonde halo. The hint of what can only be described as baby fat on his cheeks was the only soft part on him. Lifting cases of beer at his bar, Merlotte's, has done his body good. Back when I waitressed for him in my early 20s, we could have had something. He was sweet and always there for me when I needed him. I know I had feelings for him for awhile when we first met. But he never made his feelings clear until after I met Eric. Typical.
"You holdin' up okay, chere?"
I pulled out a smile.
"Yeah. Don't worry about me, Sam. I'll be alright."
"I'm your friend, Sook. That's part of the job."
He slung his arm around my shoulders and lightly squeezed.
"So how's the bar business?"
He launched into a story about his distributors and I let my thoughts wander. I hoped I was smiling and mhmm-ing at the right moments. My heart would have been into listening on any day but today. Lafayette's slightly garish storefront came into view right as Sam's story was ending. For anyone who cared to notice, the purple sequins that bordered the awning were the perfect preview of the man inside.
A cup of dark roast coffee and one of Laf's ginormous red velvet cupcakes may be exactly what I need.
AN: Reviews are shiny. They make me happy. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic... Please let me know if you'd like me to continue posting this!
