Chapter 8

"Happy hour?"

My force my eyes to look up from the print of the deposition in front of me to the twinkling jade ones staring at me. Why are they twinkling? Why must they look so fucking happy? Whose eyes fucking twinkle?

"I don't think so," I reply morosely before dipping my head back down to my paperwork. The last thing I want to do is go out tonight with a bunch of my coworkers.

"Come on, it's been three weeks. You need to do something, hon," Lita encourages, and I can't help but scoff.

Of course I know it's been three weeks.

Three weeks since Seiya moved out of our home and into a two bedroom apartment.

Three weeks since we enforced our custody arrangement.

Three weeks since my daughter told me she hates me and my son began barely speaking to me.

"I'd rather not," I reaffirm.

Lita sighs, but is a smart enough person not to push the subject further. "Okay, but, if you change your mind, we're going to Luck."

"'kay."

Lita lingers at my desk a moment longer, but I refuse to look up and initiate any sort of further conversation. I just want to focus on my work. I don't want to think about anything else but work. Work is… work. There's a job to do here. I need to review this deposition, check for discrepancies, and see how it is applicable, if at all, to our case. I don't want to think about Seiya and how he has my kids tonight. How he is tucking them into their new beds. How he is cooking them a dinner for three. How he is there, entertaining them, without me.

The noise of clicking heels alerts me that she has moved on. I don't mean to be a bitch and come up short, but I don't want to talk to anyone.

It has been an absolute miserable month.

I knew that it would be difficult. Losing Seiya, telling the kids; but, damn, I didn't expect it to hurt so much. I mean, I know that he is right, that we became strangers to each other, falling out of love. But I can't help but long for him more than I ever have before. To have him next to me in bed. To tell him about my day. To listen to his breathing, his gentle snore when I randomly wake up in the middle of the night. How his pillow always smelled like his shampoo.

I throw the paperwork on my desk and drop my head into my hands. This is why I didn't want an interruption. This is why I wanted to solely focus on my work. I don't want to think all these fucking sad thoughts. I don't want my eyes filling with tears, or my throat to constrict as I try to fight them back for the millionth time.

I want to focus on Inperium's case. Not me. Not my sad, miserable, pathetic life.

I stare at my desk; more particularly, a photo of Seiya and I. It sits there, framed, protected by a thin, cheap plastic I bought at the dollar store. It's an older photo, maybe seven or eight years old, but it's a favorite of mine. We're laughing. Actually laughing. Why, I don't remember. But, we're… happy.

And now we're separated.

With a quick flick of the wrist, I slam it downward, unwilling to allow that picture to continue to sit there and mock me, taunt me with past memories of happiness, of love in my life. Now I'm alone, with my husband living in his bachelor pad, my kids hating me.

I knew the kids would take it hard. I would be a fool to believe that they wouldn't hurt and would understand from day one. The problem is, Elsie solely blames me. After all, I'm the one still in the house. Dad's the one that "had" to leave. He's the one who had to "start over." As much as I want to tell her how wrong she is, how her Dad told me he was leaving, how he told me the day after he asked for the separation that he found an apartment, I can't bring myself to hurt her any further then she already is.

I've kept my tongue in check. After all, he is their dad; who am I to villainize him?

Plus, she's only eleven. Almost twelve. She wouldn't understand. Not yet, not now.

So I let her continue to use me as her dart board. I keep her in check when it starts to go too far, but by that time, she's storming up to her room and blasting her stereo.

Alex has been the complete opposite. He barely speaks to me or Seiya. Instead, he plays video games. He comes home from school or soccer and immediately goes into his room and turns on one of his games. Lately I think it's Minecraft. I approached him the other day and offered to get him the new Spiderman game, but he didn't answer me. Didn't even turn his head to tell me yes or no. Just went on… ignoring me.

I can only pray that as the weeks go on that things get better. It has to get better.

Right?

#

It's 6:00 when I hear the doorbell ring.

"Kids, your Dad is here," I call up the stairwell. The doorbell. My husband, whose name is on the deed and mortgage to this house, the one we picked out together when I was pregnant with Alex, who painted this living room the sage green color I begged him to concede to, is ringing the fucking doorbell.

I open the door, Seiya standing on the other side, his hands buried in his front pockets. Man, must he look so good? Dark washed jeans, a red and blue plaid button down, the sleeves rolled up just enough that I can see his tattoo? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I swallow hard. "Hi," I croak.

"Hey," he responds uneasily.

"They'll be right down," I tell him, getting straight to the point.

"Okay, thanks." A few moments of silence engulf us as we wait for the sound of footsteps, but so far nothing.

"Do you want to come in?"

He shakes his head. "No, that's okay."

"Okay."

Another moment of silence passes while we awkwardly try avoid looking at each other. At least, I'm desperately trying not to notice the way his hair is styled, the way his shirt fits on his shoulder, how I can see that he's building a bit more muscle than I've seen before, or haven't actually stopped to notice before.

How he… is wearing an earring?

My brows snap together in recognition. He hasn't worn his earring in years.

Is it because he's…. single?

I continue to eye the earring, questions blowing through my mind like a freight train, until I see a distinct mark on his neck peeking over his collar juuuuuust enough that it becomes obvious to me what it is:

a fucking hickey.

He's… fooling around… with someone.

He's fucking around with someone.

I can feel my eyes widen in sync with my heart racing, my breath staggering as I try to process what the fuck I am staring at. Before I can say something, anything, to call him out, the kids barrel past me, duffel bags and backpacks scraping nosily against them as they rush out of the house.

"Kids, say goodbye to your Mom," Seiya chastises them as they walk out the door without saying anything, shaking his head as they continue on to his car. "I'm sorry," he says sympathetically as he tosses me a look of pity. I nod my head dumbly, finally snapping out of my trance when I hear the door shut.

As soon as I hear the car pull out of the driveway, I scream.

I cry out in anguish, the mourning, the pain finally taking course. In a burst of rare Hulkish likeliness, I flip the coffee table over, magazines and the remote flying as I do so.

It has ONLY been THREE weeks.

THREE.

That's twenty one days!

Twenty one days it took for him to start fooling around with some hussy. Some whore. Some slut who probably sucks him and fucks him and … AUGH.

I feel possessed. I grab at my hair, collapsing on the couch in tears. Not only did he fall out of love with me, but he was so quick to replace me. Kissing her. Touching her. Doing things to her that he used to do to me.

Anger suddenly courses through me. If he's going to go ahead and mindlessly fuck someone new, well, so am I! I'm no nun! I'm not some ruined woman!

Fuck him.

Fuck her.

I storm upstairs and into my bedroom, hastily going through my closet as I seek out the perfect outfit. I finally settle on a strappy turquoise cami and dark blue skinny jeans, throwing them on as quickly as I can. I touch up my makeup, adding on a darker shade of lipstick, before digging out my hardly worn Michael Kors pumps.

I'm going to Luck. I'm going to find Lita and company, I'm going to get drunk, and if all goes well, I'm going to go ahead and find me a nice companion tonight.

If he can fuck around, so can I.

After all, we're not married anymore.

He didn't want to be married to me anymore.

He wanted to fuck someone new.

Well, so can I!

I grab my phone and pull up my Lyft app, ordering a car before I talk myself out of this. I storm downstairs to grab my winter coat and my purse, but stop short of the coffee table.

Yes.

Continue to stare at the coffee table, Serena. Think of the rage, the anger, the hurt.

Don't think about how you wish it was you. Don't think about how you wish Seiya was touching you.

Not her.

Not… her.

Who is this her.

Why is her better than me?

#

"Serena!" Lita's voice carries over the crowd of the bar when she spots me. I am slightly impressed, considering I normally don't come out, and I thought I made myself clear that I wasn't going to be.

Still, I am thankful for her cheerfulness at my appearance. In fact, it makes me feel slightly better.

I weave through the groups of mingling folk, many still dressed in their work clothes, easily on their second or third glass of something.

"You came!" she exclaims as she wraps her free arm around me, circling me towards the little group that she's acquired. "Serena, you know Ken, Greg, Kari and Tammy; this is Diamond, Logan, Erin and Cynthie. They work at MesTique."

"Oh, the marketing firm!" I reply in recognition of the company name. They smile and nod their heads politely before turning their attention back to their drinks and dialogue.

"Well, that was quickly lived," I mutter as I turn back to Lita, who waves her hand dismissively.

"Forget them. So, what changed your mind?" Lita asks excitedly as she flags down the bartender.

"Hah, got time?" I sneer as the bartender approaches. "Shot of Jameson and a vodka soda, double," I order quickly, throwing down my credit card in the process.

"Tell me," she insists as I watch the bartender pour the Jameson into the glass. I reach for it and down it quickly.

"Seiya picked up the kids today."

"Okay."

"And I noticed he put his earring back in, right?"

"Okay."

"And, so, like, he hasn't worn this earring in years, right? He took it out when the kids were young and tugging on everything, and he made this stupid declaration about how he's a Dad and Dad's don't wear earrings and all this stupid shit because I, you know, was all upset he took it out because it concluded the days of rocker Seiya, right?"

"So, he put the earring back in," Lita paraphrases to me. I nod and continue.

"But, I noticed something else."

"What?"

"Under the earring, in the space between his ear and his collar, was a hickey."

"What?"

"A FUCKING HICKEY," I shout as I grab my drink off the bar, sipping at the potent cocktail.

"What the fuck?!"

"Right?"

"You mean that he, he's, he's…"

I take another lengthy sip. "Yup."

"That dick! What a fucking… augh! What is wrong with him?"

"Well, he's a bachelor now," I spit.

"I'm going to chop his dick off!"

I snort. "Good!"

"I'm going to fucking channel some thunder and strike his ass, man. What the hell is wrong with him? It hasn't even been a month!"

"I know."

"That's disgusting. That pig. That asshole!"

"Yep."

"I just can't believe it! I am, I am so sorry."

I feel it, the sadness. It's starting to bubble inside me, course through my veins to try and water down the searing hot blood of anger.

No.

No.

I blink a few times, willing away the tears.

My eyes scan the room, looking for someone of the opposite sex to talk to. Someone. Anyone. Someone who is attractive, someone who is conversational, someone who is—

"What's his story?" I say with a pointed finger to the platinum blonde man. Lita's eyes sparkle with intrigue.

"Diamond? He's a senior marketing executive. Works exclusively on jewelry advertising," she adds as she stirs at her cocktail.

"Oh?"

"35, Princeton grad, recently single," she adds with a wink. She knows the game I'm playing. She knows it very, very well.

I grin.

We chat a bit more before I see Diamond's group break. Seizing the opportunity, I slither in next to him, placing my empty glass next to his before I turn at smile at him.

"Diamond, right?"

I must have startled him, because he noticeably flinches. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I exclaim.

He gives me a small, tight smile. "No, that's okay. And yes, Diamond. Diamond LeVonte."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Serena Kou. I work with Lita at Wilford and Shields," I introduce, but not before concluding with what I hope is a dazzling smile.

"Nice to meet you," he replies courteously.

"So, Lita mentioned you work on jewelry advertising?"

Diamond nods. "Yes."

I smile. "That's pretty clever. Your name is Diamond, and you work on selling diamonds."

I see Diamond's already tight smile falter. "Huh?"

"The irony. I think it's ingenious!"

Diamond, however, doesn't seem to find humor in the correlation. "Are you making fun of my name?"

Shit. "No, not at all! I was just saying the connection between the… name… and… your profession," I trail off as Diamond turns away from me, clearly disinterested in anything else I have to say.

Welp, I blew that one really quickly.

#

I don't recall the last time I stayed out at a bar this late.

Like, a real bar, in the city, on a Friday night that did not involve any sort of pretense.

But alas, here I am, three double vodka sodas and four shots in, and I am in no mood to end the evening.

Many of the happy hour attendees left, those of us fairly intoxicated hanging around. So far I've played darts, pool, and laughed and talked about everything from work to traffic patterns to my obsession with Thai food.

And man, it feels… good.

It feels so good.

I'm me.

Serena.

Not Mom. Not Missus Kou.

It feels so liberating. So, empowering.

My mission to get under a new man is long abandoned. Oddly enough, so is my anger and sadness.

Lita is currently sitting on Ken's lap, using her hands to describe how to properly apply a c-ring, and I'm sucked in. Why? I don't know. It's perverse. It's dirty. It's so strange to listen to.

But I'm hooked.

Maybe it's because I didn't know what exactly a c-ring… I mean, a couples ring was meant to do. Maybe it's because I've been so sheltered from the nuances of sex nowadays. Maybe it's because it's something that has nothing to do with anything in my life.

I look around the bar, my eyes grazing the patrons at the bar, the tables, crowded around the various sources of entertainment. They all look so engaged, so free, unlatched from their everyday responsibilities and enjoying a few hours of fun.

It's fun to be fun.

I smile. I'm glad I came out tonight. In fact, I resolve to myself that I'm going to try and make happy hour a more normal occurrence. Maybe not a stay out all night event every time, but every other Friday, I'm going to come out for a drink or two. Hang out with coworkers. Make new friends. Build on my preexisting friendships.

Just as I'm about to say something to the group, my eyes catch a very familiar figure across the way. He doesn't see me. At least, I don't think so. His black hair is falling loosely over his forehead, his pinstriped shirtsleeves folded up neatly, exposing his forearms. He's smiling, no – laughing – into a short glass of amber liquid at whatever the blonde next to him said. She's touching his bicep. She's stretching out those ruby red lips of hers in his direction, begging to be caressed by him.

My smile falters as I snap my eyes away.

Who cares if my boss is on a date?

He's my boss; he's not even my friend.

So why am I bugged out by this?

I train my eyes to stay focused on Lita, but I can't help but flutter them over to him again. This time she's presenting her tits to him. I scoff. They're practically out on the bar her shirt is so low-cut. It's appalling! Is that what we're supposed to do nowadays, have our nips popping out of our shirt? What's wrong with dressing nicely? I mean, sure, dress sexy, but not like a whore!

Just as I am about to turn my attention away before her vag is presented to the scene, Royal blue irises catch mine.

Fuck.