Perfect Excuse (Mason Creek Book 11) Page 5

  After I dry off, I grab my sketchbook from my car and curl up on the couch. Kiwi joins me as I pour my feelings onto the blank pages, creating works of art that somehow give me a renewed sense of purpose and direction. This part of my life is all mine. I haven’t shared it with anyone, not even Ryder, when we were still close. I don’t plan on telling anyone about it anytime soon. Inviting others to critique and assess this part of my mind feels way too personal, as if I’m letting the world read my diary.

  Perhaps this is my version of a diary because the art I create is wholly dependent on my frame of mind. Today, I’m heartbroken, mad, and distraught, and it shows in my sketches. Flipping through the other pages, I see a distinct difference on the days when I was happy or playful.

  A picture is worth a thousand feelings.

  When the phone rings, I glance at the time and realize I’ve been sketching new designs for hours. I pick up my cell and see Faith’s smiling face on the screen and decide to take it. If I don’t, she’ll just show up here to check on me, and I’m not in any shape to have company today.

  “Hey.” My abrupt greeting is a dead giveaway.

  “That bad, huh? Tell me everything and don’t leave anything out.”

  She’s silent while I fill her in on the events of the night after she left Pony Up early and as I describe the shitshow of a morning I had.

  “You had sex with him while going through a divorce? Is that what you just told me? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, that’s what I just told you, and I am serious. I’m also serious when I say it’s over. Over over. If he doesn’t sign the papers and agree to my demands on Monday, I’ll sign and agree to his. Then we can go before the judge and finalize our divorce once and for all.” I throw my pencil down and watch it bounce across the coffee table.

  “Liv, you’re both making a monumental mistake. How do neither of you see what’s happening?”

  “I do see it, Faith. I believe he loved me at one time, but obviously it wasn’t enough for him to make his home here with me. The life we’ve built together doesn’t satisfy him. He wants something different from what I can give. How much clearer can it be?”

  “Liv, I say this with all the love in my heart. You are every bit as stubborn as Ryder and you won’t listen to reason either. You have to learn everything the hard way. I’m afraid you’re about to learn quite a bit.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, my bestie. I’m going to go turn on the gas oven and dry my hair now. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Don’t leave your head in the oven too long though. It may bake some sense into you. Call me if you need me. Love you.”

  “Thank you. Love you.”

  Chapter 6

  Ryder

  It’s Monday morning and I’m sitting in Java Jitters, waiting for my morning coffee, when Hattie and Hazel Jackson approach my table. For the record, being their target is never a good thing. They’re sisters who probably mean well at the heart of things, but they’re known as the town gossips. Hattie, with her blue hair and customary plaid shirt, along with Hazel, with her Sunday best and bright red lipstick on, are too much to take on a good day.

  This morning is not a good day.

  “Well, well, well, look who it is, Hazel.” Hattie smirks at me with a shit-eating grin. The rest of the morning patrons turn to listen because everyone knows what’s coming next.

  “Oh, I see him, Hattie. We know all about this one, don’t we?”

  “We sure do.” Hattie’s smirk increases. They’re trying to bait me so they can close in for the kill. I’m not biting. “We have the scoop on him.”

  “Good morning, ladies. It’s nice to see you both looking so chipper this morning. I’m just waiting for Jessie to finish with my breakfast order before I start my day.”

  “That jolt of coffee gives you plenty of energy, doesn’t it?” Hattie’s smirk turns into a full smile. It’s a little scary.

  “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  “Did you have a good weekend, Ryder?” Hazel asks, somewhat pointedly.

  Fucking hell.

  The MC Scoop.

  Someone kill me now. I know exactly what they’re talking about, except I don’t know what details were shared.

  Tate Michaels must have written a piece about me on her blog. That gossip column is like crack for the people of Mason Creek. Tate has a way of finding out private information about everyone and sharing it on her blog, mostly before it’s ready for public consumption.

  “It was fair.” I shrug, trying to dismiss their attempts to poke more into my personal life.

  “The way I read it, you had more than a fair weekend. Seems it was a downright scream.” Hattie tries to get her jab in without laughing in my face. She tries but fails.

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Hattie. You know how people like to spread rumors and talk about things they didn’t witness firsthand.” All eyes are on me, but their smiles hide behind their coffee cups.

  “Maybe I prefer to believe this story, Ryder.” Hattie shrugs and lays a piece of paper on the table in front of me. “I printed it out for you, in case you want to frame it or something.”

  Hattie and Hazel retreat to their table, the one they claim to have reserved for every morning so no one else can take their spot. They leave me alone, but still watch my every move with their penetrating eyes. With all the strength I can muster, I pick up the article and start reading, knowing I’ll regret this decision with every single word.

  Hear ye! Hear ye!

  I’ve always wanted an occasion to use that phrase, but none of the previous Scoops quite fit the bill to earn that distinction.

  Until now.

  And I can’t wait to share the details of why this phrase is so perfectly fitting for today’s Scoop.

  If you were anywhere in the vicinity of the home formerly shared by the soon-to-be-exes, Mr. and Mrs. Ryder King, you probably heard all the screams and howls that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. To the untrained ear and the unknowing resident, you’d swear the noises came from a female fox in heat, screaming for her mate to perform his natural duties. And who could blame you for assuming that was the case? Certainly not this Scooper, considering the decibel levels were so similar.

  But that’s not the case AT ALL, my dear reader.

  No.

  But keep reading because you’ll want to know every sordid detail of this Scoop!

  Friday night’s earsplitting and animated escapades were not scenes from the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet, although I’m considering contacting both channels to have our little town showcased in their documentaries… starring none other than Ryder and Olivia King.

  Yes, folks, all those noises were from the rowdy and raucous relations from two of our favorite Mason Creek citizens.

  The perfect couple, who separated seven months ago, have been involved in intense negotiations with our local mediator in numerous attempts to finalize their divorce. This journalist must ask: Are Mr. and Mrs. King reconciling now, or was this a case of too much alcohol and a lack of other options in Small Town, USA?

  Only time will tell.

  Keep your eyes open, your ears to the ground, and my email address on speed send, Scoopers. We’ll get to the bottom of this episode of Ex Marks the Spot together! For those of you who were within earshot of the house in question, I highly recommend getting a hearing test now, just to be on the safe side.

  Oh. My. God.

  How…

  Who…

  Where…

  I have so many questions I can’t bring myself to formulate fully because I don’t know if having the answers will make this situation better or worse. All I know right now is I’m still the sole focus of everyone in the café, including all the new people who walked in while I was reading the recount of my very private night with Liv. I’m doing my best to maintain my composure and not verbally assault everyone in here.

  “Your breakfast is getting cold,” Jessie yells
out to everyone and no one in particular. “Eat up, people. There’s nothing to see here.”

  She stops at my table with my order in a to-go bag. I didn’t order it that way, but I’m grateful for her big heart and ability to read the room.

  “Thanks, Jessie.”

  “Ryder, I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let this bullshit get you down. People around here clearly need more work to do to keep them busy and out of everyone else’s business. Walk out with your head held high and take care of your situation. You have nothing to be ashamed of because you’ve done nothing wrong. What happens between a man and woman in their own home isn’t anyone else’s concern.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Jessie. Thanks for the pep talk.” I carry my breakfast bag and coffee in one hand and grab the printed article off the table with the other. “This is going in the garbage, where it belongs.”

  No one makes eye contact with me as I stroll to the door, paper in hand. My demeanor leaves no room for doubt—I’m not fucking around with this nonsense today. Creating an article about what happened between my wife and me in our bed crossed the line. Most would say that’s typical of Tate, since she loves to gossip and share every shred of information she receives. But being on the receiving end of that attention doesn’t feel very good.

  To be fair, my mood was shit before this article was laid in my lap. My last conversation with Livvy made me question everything I thought I knew and wanted. When she pinned me with the logical question of how I planned to have this grand, adventurous life while dragging Kiwi from place to place, I honestly didn’t have an answer. Not one I could give her anyway.

  But when I envisioned that life without Liv in it, I couldn’t breathe or think. The last several months have been pure hell, no doubt, but deep down I always thought she’d relent and join me. When the ugly truth smacked me in the face and I realized I’d truly lost my wife, nothing else in my life made sense. Not one single part of it means anything without her by my side. What good is any accomplishment I achieve if Liv’s not there to share it with me?

  When I walked out of my lonely condo this morning, I’d decided to stop the mediation attempts and ask Liv to give us another chance. My deepest darkest is still securely secret, but I’m racking my brain to find a way around it. Now that the extremely personal and inappropriate article about us has hit the internet, I’m afraid she’ll be so pissed she won’t hear me out. There’s no way she hasn’t already heard about it. But I hurry to George’s office as fast as I can go, anyway.

  I have to mitigate the damage as soon as possible.

  Liv’s already seated in the small conference room when I walk in. My entry catches her attention, but she barely shifts her gaze toward me.

  “Liv, can we talk?” I purposely keep my voice low and nonconfrontational. I’m upset about the invasion into our love life too, but we can get past this.

  “There’s nothing left to talk about. I’ve signed the papers. George took them to Judge Nelson to get his final signature. Since we’ve had the legal separation in place for at least six months, our marriage will be dissolved as soon as his signature dries on the paper.” Then she turns her icy gaze to me. “Congratulations, Ryder. You’ll be free to move away from here in a matter of minutes now.”

  “What? No, Liv. Wait. Just wait. Where is George now?” Panic rises in my chest. The anxiety threatens to overtake me. Our marriage is over? With a stroke of a pen?

  “Wait? Wait for what? You’ve had long enough to change your mind. It’s too late now. It’s over, Ryder. There’s no going back.” She folds her arms across her body, closing herself off from me and ending any chance to talk more about it.

  “Well, not so fast, young lady.” Judge Nelson enters the room with a stack of papers in his hand. “I have a few questions to ask before I can approve the agreement you signed.”

  “Ask away. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible. We’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time as it is.” She squares her shoulders and sets her jaw. My heart shatters into a bazillion pieces.

  He slides a single sheet of paper out of the stack to the middle of the table to let everyone see it. I close my eyes and drop my head because I’ve already seen it and memorized every word of it.

  “Care to explain this to me?” His no-nonsense tone is firmly intact.

  “What is it? I don’t know what you’re referring to, Judge.” Liv reaches across the table as I open my eyes. My knee-jerk reaction is the grab her arm and still her movements. She cuts her eyes over to me, keeping her brows drawn, and cocks her head to the side. “What are you doing, Ryder? Let go.”

  “Take a deep breath first, Liv. Trust me on this one.” She stares me down until I release her arm. In my defense, I’m only trying to help her cope with the violation she’s about to experience.

  She reads the passage quickly at first, and her bottom jaw drops open. Then she starts over from the top, taking more time to read and absorb every word and not-so-subtle insinuation. The fiery red tinge starts at the base of her neck and works its way across her face, disappearing into her hairline.

  “What in the actual fuu—”

  “Olivia, I understand it’s upsetting, but I’ll warn you now to watch your language in here. This may be an informal setting, but this is still a formal meeting.”

  “Yes, sir.” She barely gets the words past her gritted teeth. “How can she write this about us and get away with it?”

  “Then it’s true? You two spent the night together and had intercourse?” His attention darts back and forth between Liv and me, waiting for us to confirm or deny the gossip that’s clearly gripped our small town. “Don’t even think about lying to me.”

  Naturally we were thinking about lying to him. Does he think we’re stupid? The judge doesn’t make an appearance during our mediation sessions for nothing. His presence here signals a significant shift in the paradigm.

  We’re both still silent. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. He asked if we had sex as easily as if he’d asked about the weather instead. Liv’s sunburnt-red skin hasn’t lessened at all, and I don’t think she has the ability to speak.

  “It’s true, Judge. As humiliating and mortifying as that article is, I drove Liv home from Pony Up and spent the rest of the night with her. We didn’t think it was anyone else’s business, but obviously the cat’s out of the bag.” I try to spare Liv of the lascivious details Tate had fun recounting in her column by glossing over them in my retelling to the judge.

  “You’re right, Ryder, it’s no one else’s business. However, I’m afraid it is my business. You see, having intercourse during the mediation process before the divorce is final constitutes a reconciliation. If you’re still set on proceeding with the divorce, I’ll give you two options. One, you can start the six-month separation period over again, abstaining from having sex the entire time, and I’ll sign the agreement. Or you can go to marriage counseling. After sufficient time has passed for the therapist to get to know you and analyze your relationship, if she agrees the irreconcilable differences claim still stands, I’ll make an exception and finalize it at that time. Which option will it be?”

  “How long is ‘sufficient time’ for her to get to know us?” Liv challenges, her voice rising slightly with each word. She pinches her lips together, probably to avoid saying something to the judge she’ll regret later.

  “That’s up to the therapist. I’m not putting a time limit on it. If she can give a definitive answer after a few weeks, I’ll accept her expert opinion. Do you have a problem with my decision? I think I’m being overly understanding, considering the circumstances since this began.”

  “No, I think you’re being fair. It’s just that… I finally signed the papers today and I thought I could put this behind me. This whole ordeal has been an intense drain on my emotions, and this is just the icing on the cake.” She drops her head into her hands, shielding her face from everyone as she works through her feelings.

  “I und
erstand, but your recent actions have tied my hands, legally speaking. Because of that, I need an answer from both of you before you leave here today.” Judge Nelson waits for our reply with an expressionless stare.

  My heart urges me to pick the six months option, giving me more time to convince her this isn’t the best path for us after all. But now I see the toll this drawn-out fight is taking on her well-being. She is weary after the constant clashes and being torn in different directions. My head realizes the right thing to do is let the therapist make the decision.

  Letting her go is the least painful option for her. I can’t keep hurting her like this, even though losing her is killing me.

  “We’ll go to the marriage counseling sessions. I’ll participate in whatever she tells us to do.” I turn my attention to Liv. With raised eyebrows, I silently ask if she agrees.

  “Fine. Let’s do it. What happens if the therapist doesn’t recommend a divorce?”

  Judge Nelson shrugs. “You start the six-month separation period over again. I can’t force you to stay married, only to follow the letter of the law.”

  “Great. Marriage counseling should be a blast. Can’t wait.” Liv rolls her eyes as she stands to leave.

  She doesn’t catch it as she storms out of the conference room, but I can’t miss the smirk on the judge’s face.

  Chapter 7

  Olivia

  I’m so grateful to have two employees who can run my business when I need time for myself. Annie and Jasmine have been lifesavers over the last couple of weeks while I’ve worked through a tsunami of emotions. Some days, I felt like I was hanging ten on the biggest wave in the ocean, making it my personal bitch. Other days, I’ve questioned how I’ve managed a successful business when I seem to have the emotional control of a small toddler.