Disclaimer: Unfortunately, playing on Charlaine Harris' playground does not give me ownership rights. Rated M for language and lemons.
AN: Happy Mother's Day, all!
This chapter is a bit of a review. A lot of you have commented on the sad nature of the last chapter and I'm just giving y'all a friendly warning that this'll be much of the same. It is a necessary evil but hopefully you'll all stick with me… I promise it gets better!
2. …With a Broken Heart
My eyes roamed my wife immediately when the door opened.
Okay Eric. Deep breath.
Gods, she is still the most beautiful thing in my orbit. The sunlight from the window bounced off the golden curls I longed to run my fingers through. She had just enough makeup to emphasize those bright blue eyes and create a need to claim those full pink lips and never release them. As she was pointedly not looking at me, I took the time to feast my sight on the rest of her body. The navy business skirt and blazer she wore accentuated her substantial breasts and tiny waist. She is like a fantasy woman and, until today, she'd been my reality.
Our lawyer greeted her with her maiden name and my hand twitched, aching to wrap around his throat as I growled "Her name is Northman." But my hand stayed still and my voice stayed silent.
She exchanged pleasantries with the lawyer, putting all those quaint Southern manners to good use. When he mentioned me, her gaze finally caught mine. Her eyes took me in from the bottom up and I took small satisfaction in still being able to turn her head. I'd fretted over what to wear like a teenage girl this morning. What do you wear to the end of everything good in your life as you know it?
She took a seat at the mahogany table and I took mine in front of her. Her attention was on Cataliades now but mine was still on her. The woman sitting in front of me with the hollow eyes and slumped shoulders wasn't my feisty Sookie. Something was broken inside her. And it was me who'd broken it. I don't know when it happened, or even how, but the truth stared at me in the form of my Sookie's soulful expression.
Most people wouldn't be able to point to the minute their life crumbled to pieces. My moment came about 45 seconds after the word "divorce" fell from my lover's lips. My gut reaction to her request was "MINE!" and I started to tell her so. I would have happily proved my claim if not for the defeated expression on her face. It forced me to look closer. What I saw slapped me in the chest, in the general region of my heart, and it was like I was seeing her for the first time. She was tired. And not just in-need-of-a-nap tired. There was a weariness in her eyes and on her face that made her seem like she'd lived a thousand years. It was then I realized I wasn't making her happy. Everything I'd done… everything I'd given to provide for her… and it wasn't enough. I failed her. The worst part was that I didn't know how to fix it. In all my years of business, I'd always been able to discern a clear path to my goal but this baffled me. So I did what I'd never been able to resist before. I gave Sookie what she wanted.
I remember gathering my clothes and leaving the house. I remember closing the door to the hotel suite I rented. The following week, however, is a fuzzy haze. I spent that week with any and every combination of my new best friends: Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jose Cuervo.
Pam was the one to pull me out of my drunken stupor. My little sister can be downright demanding when she wants to be. The brat had somehow found out where I was and finagled an extra room key from the front desk. Her oh-so-subtle greeting was to slam the door hard enough for the walls to shake. Or maybe all the pounding was coming from the inside of my head… I can't be sure. She took in the half empty bottles scattered around and promptly proceeded to dump the rest of their contents into the bathroom sink. Through half-opened lids I tracked her favorite pink Jimmy Choo's until they stopped in front of the couch I'd made my home and tapped the floor impatiently.
"What the hell are you laying around here for?"
You know, sometimes I wonder why Pam never went into public relations. She has such a gentle touch.
"Fuck you," came my gruff reply. The burn of the alcohol and a week of disuse had transformed my voice into something even I didn't recognize. I cleared my throat and tried again.
"Go away, Pamela."
"Go back to her."
"I can't."
"Never thought I'd live to hear the great Eric Northman say he couldn't do something," she snorted. She evidently had decided to stay so she perched herself on the armchair across the room and crossed her legs at the ankle, looking every bit the picture of a blonde Jackie O. Or, as Sookie always said, Alice in Wonderland.
"I told you this would happen," she stated, referring to the time she ambushed me in my office at the bar and demanded I listen to her. She'd then proceeded to insist I go home and spend time with Sookie. "She misses you," Pam said as she closed my office door. My mind couldn't process that. Sookie missed me? We lived together. We had sex almost every night. Pam didn't know what she was talking about. I'd put the whole encounter from my mind and went back to concentrating on the acquisition papers for an up-and-coming nightclub on the other side of Shreveport. I don't know why she had to bring that conversation up now unless it was to rub salt in my fresh wounds.
"You don't understand."
"I'm quite certain I understand better than you."
Had I the energy, I would have laughed. Or thrown one of the empty bottles at her head.
"Well then enlighten me, oh wise one."
"You both need to get your heads out of your asses long enough to realize divorce isn't the answer. Get off your ass and do something."
"Duly noted."
"Eric…" she started.
"What, Pam? What do you want me to say? I worked my ass off EVERY DAY to give her a good life, so she'd never want for anything. And it wasn't fucking enough. She's not happy anymore." I slumped even further into the couch, drained from the speech, and closed my eyes.
"Listen to what you're saying. Sookie would live in a wooden hut on the border of Never-Gonna-Find-It-ville with you if you asked her to. It would be damn close to that backwater she grew up in."
"That's why she deserves all I can give her! She had nothing growing up and she still turned out so loving and generous. She deserves more than I can give her."
I heard Pam sigh and move toward the door.
"All work and no play make Eric a whiny ass. You don't get to play the martyr when one word from you would fix this whole thing. Think about what I said and call me when you realize I'm right," were her parting words.
Wonderful to see you too, sis.
The next time I woke from my muddled sleep, her words rang in my head. Get off your ass and do something.
So I showered, changed my clothes, and called my lawyer.
The months that led me here were wrought with strained lawyer meetings and discussions of property. I wanted my bar and my Corvette. Everything else she could have. This, of course, ruffled Sookie's feathers as she insisted we at least divide everything fairly.
I brought myself back to the present and looked around the room where we currently sat. It just didn't seem right. But that is the way it is. If this is what it took for Sookie to be happy, then so be it.
Watching her sign the dotted line with such decisiveness felt like a fist closing over my heart, crushing the life out of me. I didn't know I'd held out the small hope she'd change her mind until it extinguished the moment the pen left the paper. I wanted to beg her to stay and to throw myself at her feet and clutch her waist like a small child. But my legs wouldn't budge and all words died on my lips.
There was no other woman for me. I knew that.
So how was I letting her go?
o-o
Before the ink was dry on the papers, Sookie was out the door. That was it? The end of our marriage? It was so… unsettling.
Cataliades gathered his things quietly and exited the room after a numb handshake from me. I don't know how long I stayed after he left.
I stared holes into the conference table until a secretary stumbled upon me. Surprise showed on her expression as she excused herself and all but ran away.
Get a hold of yourself, Northman.
I'd love to drink myself into oblivion right about now but duty calls. Someone had to receive an alcohol shipment at the bar and two new waitresses had to be hired to cope with the weekend crowds. Calling Pam for help before 11 am would only earn me a "go fuck yourself" and the sound of a dial tone in my ear.
I was pointedly not thinking about Sookie down the hallway, in the elevator, and through the parking garage. I followed the chirp of my car alarm disengaging and slid behind the wheel. The roar of the engine eased my tension like nothing else. I could control this gorgeous piece of machinery, even if I couldn't control my life. I sped out of the parking lot, forcing the tires to squeal only slightly more than necessary and headed toward the bar.
Of all the properties I managed and the businesses I owned, Loki's Playground was my baby. The name was an homage to my Viking heritage and the god known for mischief. I bought the space 8 years ago with a specific idea in mind. I needed a "headquarters". One central place to manage all my holdings and meet with business associates. I was twenty-eight at the time and couldn't stand the idea of confining myself to a nondescript office in a random building. As luck would have it, my new business venture coincided with Pam becoming restless in Minnesota and needing to "escape that frozen shithole." She immediately took charge of the design aspect and steered the ambiance to walk the fine line between comfort and chic. Given her personal preferences, I was surprised the walls ended up a warm burgundy instead of some oppressive pastel nightmare. We must be doing something right; we were still filling to capacity almost a decade later. In those 8 years of nights, there is only one that stands out in my mind: the night Sookie walked in wearing that white and red flowered dress (the one that still caused my hard-on to stand up and take notice). I would later learn her friend Amelia had become friends with Pam and begged her repeatedly to check the place out. Her waves of blonde hair caught my eye as soon as she stepped through the door. Not that blonde hair was out of the ordinary in the age of bleached and emaciated Barbie-wannabes. This was something different. Natural. Refreshing.
When she and her brunette friend took a seat in one of the booths along the wall, I immediately flagged down a waitress and comped their drinks for the night. I knew the moment she was told her order was on the house. Her eyes shot up to pierce mine with just a hint of defiance. I put on my best panty-melting smirk and waited for her to approach me. I was a little more than intrigued when it was twenty minutes later and she still hadn't moved from her seat. I do love a challenge. I decided a change in tactic was in order and climbed out of my own booth to approach her. Her eyes widened slightly as I rose to my full six-foot-five. Point for me. When it became clear where I was headed, her chin lifted almost imperceptively and she faced me dead on.
Now, I don't remember exactly what was said after our eyes locked but I'm guessing it was something inane and possibly a little vulgar given that her expression changed to one of contempt. She thanked me politely for the drinks and I apparently had my dismissal.
I nodded once and returned to my booth to wonder where I failed. I was still watching her and thinking a half hour later, an unheard of record for me, when Pam stopped at her table and pecked the other one on the cheek.
When Sookie and her friend stood to leave, my strategy to get into her good graces hadn't progressed beyond the fact that the things that worked on the simpering, pathetic women who frequented Loki's probably wouldn't work on her.
I had never been one to believe in love at first sight, being more of the "love 'em and leave 'em" philosophy, but I know that was the night I put myself on her hook and waited for her to reel me in. Of course, I didn't know that then.
A few blocks away from the bar, my eye caught a woman on the sidewalk walking by my favorite café. I'd recognize the gentle sway of her hips anywhere. Unfortunately, I also recognized the man with his arm around her shoulder, hiding his love for her in the friendly gesture as only a true piss-ant could. Sam-goddamn-Merlotte. The fucker didn't even wait an hour to plot his move. He took his cues from too many B-rated movies where the loser best friend waits in the wings for the girl of his dreams to realize he's everything she's ever looked for. That's not how real life works, buddy. The hand not touching my Sookie started moving wildly, probably telling her about some redneck fight in his out-of-the-way bar like it was the most exciting thing ever to happen to him. Hell, maybe it was. Sookie laughed and the memory of the sound mocked me, reminding me that he got to hear the real thing. But I know his smiles never reached her eyes the way mine did… and that's the only reason I've allowed him to keep the current arrangement of his face for so long.
I turned the corner, pressed on the gas pedal a little harder, and blasted "Burning Down the House" by The Used through the speakers.
I was so caught up in the seething mess of my head that I barely saw the SUV speeding my way.
AN #2: Chapter 3 is already written… if I participated in Teaser Mondays on the Sookieverse forums, would anyone be interested?
Review time! Please and thank you!