The Gamble: A Novel (28 page)

His eyes glance down at my finger before looking back up at me. An impressed smirk appears. “Alright Luca. You have my full attention.” He places the phone back on the receiver. “What do you need to be lectured on?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me.”

He tosses a carefree hand in the air. “Women come and go. I'm in the business of divorce. I have a summer house as evidence that that's true.”

Yeah. See the problem with having a divorce attorney for a father. No fucking sympathy.

“What's the big deal? You broke up. You're young. Move on.”

Shaking my head in disbelief I grouse, “I can't believe ma' thought talking to you would be a good idea.”

A short wave of silence rolls through the room. To my surprise, he tries again, “What happened? Cheat on her?”

“I bet on her.”

“Like a fucking show pony?”

Rather than dispute the reference, I nod.

He folds his hands in his lap. “Explain.”

Guilt sinks me into the chair.

“In detail.”

Not enjoying how I feel more like a client than his son at the moment, I simply start, “Terms were simple. If I could bang her by the end of the summer, Warren had to do my laundry and if I couldn't, which I never considered an actual possibility, I'd have to pay his half of rent for the rest of our lease.”

“You mean I'd have to pay.”

“Fine print.”

He twitches a look of disapproval. “Who is this her? Some random chick you two saw in a bar? I'll be honest, I never mistook you for the careless type.”

“You don't know me.”

“So you are?”

“No.”

“Then who was she?”

The words are harder to leave than I thought they would be. “Our best friend.”

Puzzled, he simply repeats, “Your best friend. As in...both of you?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Alexxa and I work together. Er...we used to. She was quitting at the end of the summer, so I figured fuck it. Why not get what I've wanted since we met but didn't wanna fuck up because of work.”

“So you are smarter than the average male.”

“However...one thing lead to another and...I don't know. I kinda fell for her.”

“Then she found out, left, and you've been dragging your sad nuts ever since.”

“Basically.”

Silence settles between us again.

Hearing it out loud it sounds even fucking worse than what I've been hearing in my head. Impressive considering what I've got on repeat is enough to drive even the happiest asshole deep down into the pits of depression. Again. Been there. Didn't think I'd ever be sent back.

He casually shrugs. “So let her go.”

Irritation swarms through and shoots my body towards the desk. “Is that your fucking solution to everything that doesn't fit into your picture perfect persona? Let it fucking go? Is it just that goddamn easy for you to fucking walk away from everything
all the time
? Haven't you ever once in your fucking life loved someone hard enough to fucking fight for them?”

I expect him to raise his voice, lose his relaxed temperament, yet he answers in an even tone. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what the fuck did you do?”

“I put a ring on her finger and she gave me a son.”

His sentence blows me back against the chair.

“Being with your mother since before you were born was a fight. She didn't wanna give me the time of day. I persuaded her otherwise. She didn't wanna go out with me. I convinced her to change her mind. She didn't wanna date long distance yet our phone bill was outrageous and I spent more money in gas than I did in food that first year of college. Your mother has never made loving her easy and if she had, I can't say I would've stuck around.”

I whisper, “You didn't stick around. You found something younger or dumber or skinnier and left.”

“You think I
wanted
to get divorced?”

Unsure of how to respond, I shut my mouth tight.

“You think divorce was
my
idea? You think I spent over a decade fighting for someone just to leave them for a pathetic, discount dime a dozen tramp?” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Like you, I'm not that careless, Luca.”

“You didn't have a mistress?”

“Oh I had a mistress alright. It was my bank account.”

“What?”

“All I ever wanted was to be a successful lawyer. From the moment it was official the only thing on my mind was getting to the level I had put in those long hours for. When your mother got pregnant with you, I was thrilled but distracted. Trying to migrate through the legal system is hard enough without worrying about making enough to support an entire fucking family. And then I got my big opportunity. I found my niche and before I knew it money started rolling in. There was enough for your mother to quit her job. Enough for you to go to college. For us to get a bigger house. Nicer cars. As divorce rates rose so did the possibilities of more profit. All I kept seeing were dollars signs, which cost me my family. Your mother asked
me
for a divorce, Luca.”

The shock trips my mouth back open.

“And for the record, I fought her on it. I didn't fight over money. I didn't fight over the shit we bought. I fought over losing
her
.” He lets out another deep sigh. “I don't care how it looks to you. I've never stopped fighting for your mother. It wasn't until she got sick that I even stood another chance. She reached out in fear that you and I would never speak again if something happened to her.”

Can't say that's not true. She's the only reason we communicate at all. If it were up to me, I'd never even send a thank you for the cash he shells out.

“One thing lead to another-”

“Please don't say you had sex.”

He shakes his head. “Not then.”

“What? What do you mean not then? Are you and ma together again?”

“It's complicated.”

“Fucking try to explain.”

“After the initial conversation something broke between us. The ten foot pole she had been using to keep me at a distance for years snapped, and we started to become friends. I went with her to some of her doctor's appointments and support groups.”

He's
the one who took her? He's the help from a friend she had? My parents have been hiding their relationship behind my back? Just when I thought nothing else could throw off my already fucked up mind set.

“Over time we've gotten to the point where we talk every day. Sometimes we go out and do things together. Every other Sunday, I accompany her to church and then we have a quiet meal, just the two of us. Most of the time she cooks or we cook together, but...it's something. When you love someone as much as I love your mother you will settle for something over nothing any day.”

Fuck, I feel the same way about Alexxa. Having any part of her, even the pissed off, kick me in the nuts part of her would be better than this. I fouled out of the game but didn't expect to be thrown out of the arena.

“Look,” he says, voice now kinder than I ever recall. “I haven't exactly been an award winning parent.”

“Putting it mildly.”

“But I've always taught you to go after whatever it is you want most. It doesn't matter if it's a shot at the pros or a private island in the Caribbean. Don't stop until you get it. I wasn't speaking as the divorce lawyer who could come to sit on six figures. I was speaking as the man who planned to devote the rest of his life to winning your mother back.”

I swallow the animosity in my throat.

Why didn't he ever tell me that before? Why didn't she? Fuck, even if she had, would I ever have believed her? If he loved her as much as he says why ever get distracted in the first fucking place? How does anyone lose sight like that? How does anyone get so caught up in the notion of winning an imaginary race they don't care who gets burned until it's too late. Who....holy fuck. That's why she sent me here. Because I
am
my father. His greed cost him her and my fucking pride cost me Alexxa. Huh. Really, like father like son.

“Decide if she's what you want the most. If the answer is yes, which I'm going to assume since you're sitting in my office and actually
listening
to me for once in your life, then you do everything you can to fix it. I got lucky. I was given a second chance. Wait any longer and you might not be as fortunate.”

I can't imagine waiting fifteen years for forgiveness. Fuck, waiting four weeks for even a shot has torn my entire life to shreds effortlessly. My father's right. I need to do every fucking thing I can to fix this. I need Alexxa on my team. Now more than ever.

Alexxa

My tongue slides out of the side of my mouth as I try to hold the nail polish brush steady.

Don't judge. I haven't had time for a proper pedicure and still am expected to have respectable feet in heels. Unfortunately for me I wear them a bit more often now.

Warren finishes the last of his beer. “Don't you usually pay someone to do that to you? And some little design or something?”

“I do,” I hum adding the last of bit of paint, “but haven't had time. Been swamped lately. I'll make time this weekend. Probably. Possibly.”

Hard to say with Ken. I personally think he enjoys screwing up any sort of routine I establish. Call it a power trip thing.

“I recognize that color.” He stares intently in silence for a moment. “Isn't that Luca's favorite shade of red? Something to do with a...soccer team....maybe?”

The question shifts my body.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Not exactly sure any more which parts were lies to get in the panties and which were him being honest. If he's capable of being honest that is. Seems like a far-fetched notion now. Huh. To think the one thing I loved most about him wasn't ever real. Surprising.

After an extended pause, Warren quietly says, “You know, it's okay to miss him, Alexxa.”

I don't miss him. I don't miss anything about him. I don't miss the way he would hog a couch or finish the dip before I had enough. I damn sure don't miss watching sports or listening to him ramble about them.

Instead of responding I simply blow on my wet toes.

“He misses you too.”

Hearing the words pours salt in the wounds. It burns like they're still completely fresh. “I don't care.”

“You sure?” Warren leans over until our eyes lock. “Because there have got to be 18 billion different nail polish shades and you're painting yours
his
favorite while watching
his
favorite episode of drunk history while wearing
his
sweatshirt and drinking
his
favorite kind of beer.”

Those points might be sending that message, but I don't. I don't fucking miss Luca.

“Do you wanna be missed?” I snip and screw the lid back on the polish.

Warren chuckles and surrenders his hands. “I gotta get going anyway. I start my internship fuck early tomorrow. Can you believe it? My dissertation is almost done and I might actually get to finally graduate in May.”

“I'm not calling you Doctor McGuire.”

“Come on,” he pretends to pout. “Doesn't it have an awesome ass ring to it?”

I shake my head. “Get out.”

Warren laughs again, leans over to kiss me on the cheek, and snatches his keys before making his way to the front door. “I'll text you later this week. Maybe we can make lunch happen?” After receiving a nod, he says, “Sweet dreams, Alexxa.”

The minute he closes the door, I slump further down on the couch.

Things are almost back to normal between us. The night he brought the cheese enchiladas over and begged to be heard, ended with a little crying from me, and more groveling from him. I honestly don't think he ever intended for the little bet to grow into anything and from what he said I think Luca began to forget about it when we started dating. Doesn't just make it all go away though. Doesn't make me feel any less cheap or used or lied too. He hasn't stopped trying to get in touch either except now I don't completely ignore the attempts. I listen to the sweet voice mails that always end with an I love you. I read the text messages, which usually make me laugh. In a weird way, it's almost like having my best friend back before sex was an issue. Fine. I miss him a little. There I said it.

Watching Jason Momoa as athlete Jim Thorpe eases a bit of the woe.

You try watching something that beautiful and not smiling! He's basically a glorious tan mountain who can turn women into volcanoes by blinking. If he wasn't a happily married man you better believe I would be trying to make that kind of Hawaiian vacation possible.

The vibrating of my cell phone steals my attention. Quickly, I grab it and open the text.

Luca: I miss you so fucking much it hurts. Te Amo.  

I toss my head backwards again, hands burying themselves in the comfort of his sweatshirt.

Fuck. I really miss him too.