4: 4
4
Paul thought he'd misheard.
By the time it registered, I was already far down the road.
His next message came a few days later.
*We're flying home. Send me your flight details and I'll pick you up.*
I didn't reply with a single word.
When his plane touched down and he messaged again, the little red exclamation mark was all I saw.
I'd blocked Paul on every channel, but I'd forgotten there was still Mercedes.
By the time I noticed, her social media feed was wall to wall with nine-photo brag posts, the latest one reading:
*Hehe, a little gift from the big boss to make it official.*
In the pictures: an office buried in flowers, and the signed jersey Paul had paid over a million to make up for.
It hit me all at once that back when we first got together, Paul was still just a nobody of a lawyer.
He'd bought me a hearty bowl of beef stew at a roadside stand and swore up and down that once he made it, he'd marry me.
The day the firm opened its doors, he said he was too busy, just wait a little longer.
Once the firm found its footing, he said he had to build it bigger.
Until last month, when he got drunk and mistook me for Mercedes, and the truth slipped out with the liquor:
*Mercedes, you were right. It's not that I didn't want to marry Viola. I just hadn't had my fill of freedom yet.*
That was the sentence that finally started the slow chill setting into my chest.
So it turned out eight years of my effort and my company couldn't even outweigh a single sentence from someone else.
The airport announcement came over the speakers, and Antonia and I said our goodbyes there, with a promise to meet again at the next World Cup.
......
First stop back home, I went to the firm to clear out my things.
On my way out, the engagement diamond I'd tossed into the wastebasket without a thought had been fished back out by a colleague.
She weighed the ring in her hand, a little regretful.
*Lawyer Pruitt, you're so careless. A stone this fine isn't cheap.*
I smiled, didn't take it, and pressed the ring back into her palm.
*Keep it if you like it. It doesn't suit me anyway.*
I wasn't lying. The size was something Paul had Mercedes help pick out.
So the size was Mercedes's too.
Looking back, maybe this ring was never meant to be mine.
I'd just carried the box out the door when I ran into Paul's car parked at the curb.
He was opening the door for Mercedes himself, all closeness in the way he stood.
When he saw me, Paul dropped his eyes to the box in my arms and let out a cold laugh.
*Quit the act. You've made a few trips back and forth here already, haven't you.*
*I spent these last couple of days smoothing things over with Mercedes for you.*
*Go downstairs, apologize to her, and get back to work.*
I didn't stop. I walked straight over and pulled open the driver's door.
Paul panicked and raised his voice at my back.
*Viola Pruitt, this is your last chance.*
I settled into the car, watched him in the rearview mirror still frozen where he stood, and quietly said goodbye to eight years of my youth.
Paul, I hope we never see each other again.
