Desperately Seeking Epic(5)

“How long do I have?”

“Thirty days. In thirty days if you have not taken possession it will be sold to Paul and you’ll be paid the value of your half. I hate to cut this meeting short, but I have an appointment across town, but here’s my card.” He slid the tiny card beside the envelope and stood. “If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.”

Numbness blanketed me as I grabbed the envelope and card and slipped them in my purse. The man who killed my parents, robbed me of a beautiful childhood with my mother and father, left me half of his skydiving business. This is the kind of shit you just can’t make up.

After I left Mr. Mateo’s office I headed back to my hotel room, feeling completely deflated. I’d only arrived in Virginia the day before and I already hated it. It was eighty-five degrees when I landed and that day it was forty-two. My allergies were going nuts, and it felt like someone had dropkicked me in the face.

After shedding my dress pants and heels, I slid on my favorite sweats and lay on my bed. I looked at my cell and sighed. No new messages. Kurt must’ve had another hectic day, but I dialed him up anyway, knowing he’d probably be interested to hear what the lawyer had to tell me.

“Babe,” Kurt answered.

“Hi,” I squeaked, surprised he answered on the first ring.

“How’d it go today?”

“Well,” I sighed. “Apparently I’m the proud half owner of a skydiving business.”

Silence.

“Kurt? You there?”

“Skydiving?” he questioned.

I rolled to my side and let out a longer sigh. I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “Yes. He left me half of a skydiving business.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, letting my gaze flick to my purse. “I’m guessing it’s his way of saying he’s sorry.” I paused as I glanced again at my purse, where the letter Mr. Mateo gave me remained. “He left me a letter.”

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t opened it yet. I’m not sure I want to.”

“Babe,” Kurt said his pet name for me, his underlined pity prevalent in his tone. “Are you okay?”

Licking my lips, I inhaled deeply and nodded yes a few times before answering. I know he couldn’t see me, but I guess I was confirming it with myself first. I am okay. I will be okay.

“Yeah. It’s just . . . hard, I guess.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Things have been so hectic at work.”

“I know,” I assured him, even though I really wished he would’ve come with me. “I’m okay. I have to decide what to do within thirty days or they’ll automatically sell my half and give me the money.”

I finished telling Kurt what the attorney said. I also told him about this so-called man they called Epic, too. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Is it wrong I’d like to sell it and burn the money?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, warming my heart. “I think we could come up with a better use for that money. Even if you only donate it to charity or something.”

I bit my lip, wondering if I should say what I’d really like to do with the money. The last time I brought it up Kurt seemed panicked at the thought. “We could use it to have a baby.”

“Clara,” he groaned. “We’ve discussed this a million times.” I rolled my eyes with his words.

“It was just an idea,” I piped back, my annoyance clearly obvious.

“Clara . . . I just can’t go through that again right now. Now’s just not the time.”

“We only tried for a year. The doctor said seeing a fertility specialist would help.”

“I can’t go back to the robot sex. You were so single-minded and it literally became mandatory sex only when you were ovulating. There was no . . . passion. I can’t take you living in depression every time your period comes. I’m sorry. I know I sound like a dick, but with the way things have been between us, I just think . . . maybe we need to wait. Or . . . maybe we’re not meant to have a baby.”

In that moment, my eyes burned with tears. My body failed me. It couldn’t do the one thing that women are meant to do. And when it couldn’t, I went nuts trying to make it happen, and nearly lost my marriage in the process. Sex wasn’t about intimacy or being close—it was to get pregnant. I took my temperature every morning. I made him promise not to masturbate around my ovulation cycle. And I’d forced him to wear regular boxers instead of boxer briefs. Even the acupuncture was a fail. Finally, after a year with no success, when my doctor said we should see a specialist, Kurt lost it. In my obsession I had forgotten him—how to love him and make him feel wanted.

“I thought we were doing better,” I added after a beat. When he came to me and told me he was miserable, that he loved me but couldn’t take the stress of it anymore, I’d backed down. I begrudgingly put trying to have a baby aside to save my marriage. We went to counseling and we worked hard to rekindle our sex life together. I thought with time and a better mind-set—a healthier mind-set—maybe we could try again after some time. But he just wouldn’t come to the table.

“We are,” he concurred, “but I think we need more time.”