Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

oe

finally caught up with me on today-our anniversary: o

g a man whose heart had alwa

orcing a smile onto my

, its pastry shell a perfect golden brown. Beside it, a bottle of '82 Lafite. A gift from

all ticked past ei

tle with each tick

und of a key

on the smile I'd practiced

eat and the cold winter night in with him. His blue eyes, the colo

e'd for

my voice a little dry.

with the team crest, onto the sofa with a

bathroom without a second

my throat. The only sounds were the rush of water from

he steaks to the ov

ld myself. A lie I'd repeated count

droplets tracing paths down the hard lines of his abs. He w

r and poured himself a whisk

ound him from behind, pressing myself ag

my embrace without making it obv

," he said finall

the table, my voice trembling slightly. "I made dinner. At

face as if he were enduring a tedious ritual. But h

st the plates unnervingly loud. He ate quickly, hi

" I tried. "Did Co

swered, his eyes s

be just out of routine, he lifted me int

s completing a task. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to fee

armth, no tenderness. I lay on the messy sheets, f

ard him on the phone, his voice low,

ry... I'll be

art s

g. His ex-girlfriend, the model the medi

or and saw him pulling on his cloth

oing?" I asked,

. "Isabelle has a sit

were a choked sob. "I

his eyes as cold as the ice he skat

u be more understanding?" he thr

or four years, the man I had given up everything to support, was calling me "u

other word. I j

pricked some tiny, annoying sliver of guilt.

osing out the sounds of New York City and extin

ing room. I looked at the barel

is leftover meal, wa

cry. Not

d took out the marriage certificate that had

e on the desk. From this moment on, I would start collecting every piece o

first line in my notes: "Landon M