Friends Without Benefits Page 2

  Paul should have been thrilled at the disgusted look the judge cast toward his soon-to-be-ex-wife, but he was hurting too much. Not just for his betrayal but for Dianna’s. She looked so vulnerable and small. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise she was going to be better off in the long run. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday she’d look back and realize she deserved so much better than that lying bastard she’d married.

  Michelle glared at Dianna as she left the chair next to the judge, but Dianna didn’t pay any attention. She walked, eyes straight ahead, to a plastic chair a row behind the table where Paul sat with his lawyer. Paul noticed, however, and when Michelle looked at him, he cocked a brow, silently daring her to act like she didn’t deserve to be called out for her behavior. She smirked at him, and Paul wondered what he had ever seen in the cold-hearted bitch.

  He turned in his seat and waited for Dianna to meet his gaze. When she did, he looked into her bloodshot blue eyes and offered her a supportive smile, which she returned. United in their misery. Solidarity in their heartache and humiliation.

  Relief washed through Paul when the judge announced that Michelle wouldn’t get a single penny in the divorce settlement. What had been Paul’s, namely the house and bank account, would remain Paul’s. Once the courtroom was dismissed, Dianna slid her arms into her coat and stood. She had just moved into the aisle between the rows of hardback chairs when Michelle stepped in front of her, blocking her exit.

  Paul ground his teeth together as he pushed past his attorney. Michelle had already put Dianna through enough, and Paul had done his share by asking her to relive her husband’s betrayal. He’d be damned if he’d stand by while Michelle rubbed her nose in the mess all over again. Luckily, Michelle’s lawyer reached the women first and gently but firmly pulled Michelle away.

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said as he approached Dianna. “For whatever she said.”

  “She didn’t say anything. She just glared at me like the petulant child she is.”

  Paul’s lip twitched, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile. He lowered his face and ran his hand through his hair. Suddenly exhausted, his breath left him in a rush and his shoulders sagged.

  Dianna put her hand to his upper arm and squeezed it gently. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded before meeting her sympathetic stare. “I am so sorry. I know testifying wasn’t easy on you.”

  “Couldn’t have been any easier for you to hear than it was for me to talk about.”

  “Probably not. But at least I didn’t have to actually live through catching them. I always knew she could be callous, but the way she acted toward you that night… I’m sorry.”

  Dianna’s focus drifted to the chair where she’d testified as she dropped her hand from his arm. “Well, congratulations. On not having to pay alimony. I guess that’s what I should say, right? Congratulations?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what you’d say. Thanks. I mean it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “If there’s anything I can do for you…”

  Dianna was shaking her head before he even finished. “There isn’t. Thanks, though.”

  Paul’s attorney approached them and patted Paul on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. If you need anything else, give me a call. Mrs. Friedman.” He nodded in her direction.

  Paul looked at her when they were alone. She appeared stronger, more confident now, but pain still reflected in her eyes. He wished he could say something to make it better for her, but his experience told him reassurances and sympathy didn’t offer much comfort. Instead, he gestured toward the exit. “May I walk you out?”

  “Sure.”

  She waited where she stood while he gathered his coat.

  As they left the small hearing room, he asked, “Is your divorce final?”

  “Not yet. Any day now, my lawyer says.”

  Paul scoffed. “Happy holidays, huh?”

  A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “This will be the first Thanksgiving in a very long time that I won’t be hosting a houseful of in-laws.”

  “Well, maybe there are one or two perks to this situation, huh?” He smiled when she laughed. “I want to thank you again,” he said a few moments later. “I know you didn’t want to testify.”

  “Actually, I was happy to do it. Just to stick it to her. That sounds cruel, but…”

  Paul came to an abrupt stop. One of the things Michelle excelled at was making other people feel guilty for her wrongdoing. She’d stay out late, not call, not respond to his text messages, and then twist things around until Paul felt he was in the wrong for expecting her to check in with him. She was like a teenager testing her boundaries instead of a grown woman with a husband to consider. The fact that Dianna would feel an ounce of remorse for telling the truth about Michelle pissed him off.

  “She deserves everything that happens to her,” he snapped. “If she hadn’t been so damned full of herself, neither one of us would be here right now. Neither one of us would have had to tell the judge what a selfish bitch she is.”

  Dianna stared for a moment before tilting her head and giving him that damned sympathetic look again. “The rage sneaks up sometimes, doesn’t it? I thought I’d be beyond that by now, but just last night I screamed at a telemarketer for a good three minutes before slamming the phone down. The poor bastard asked to speak to my husband and had to listen to me tell him where they all could go.”

  “I don’t want you to feel bad for being here today, okay? She deserved the consequences for what she did. She more than deserved the consequences.”

  Dianna nodded. “Yes, she did. I wish I could have taken a picture of her face when she realized she wasn’t getting alimony. That was fantastic.”

  “Not nearly as fantastic as my face when I realized I wasn’t going to be paying alimony.” He pushed the heavy glass door open, and they stepped out into the cold autumn day.

  She pulled her coat more tightly around her and glanced up at the heavy gray clouds that were threatening rain. “Well, it was a good day for both of us, then.”

  “Better than anticipated. Where are you parked?”

  She nodded toward the north end of the street. Paul gestured to the south.

  “Well.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Right. I hope, despite everything, that you have a good Thanksgiving, Dianna.”

  “You, too, Paul.”

  He started to thank her again, but he stopped the words. He’d said that already. And he’d wished her well. There was nothing left to say. She tilted her head slightly, patiently waiting. He couldn’t seem to figure out what he wanted to say.

  Finally, she saved him by gesturing behind her. “There’s this café a few blocks away. It’s a little rundown, but the coffee’s good. Care to join me?”

  He hesitated. He could say no and go back to work, where he’d likely bark at anyone who tried to talk to him. He could go home, look around his empty house, and replay Dianna’s testimony over and over in his mind. Maybe he could go visit his sister and hear how she’d told him so. Or his brother and hear how he’d be better off.

  He nodded after a moment. “My treat. I owe you.”

  She opened her mouth as he put his hand on her elbow and turned her toward the direction she had pointed moments before.

  “Don’t argue,” he insisted.

  She pressed her lips together and shoved her hands in her pockets. They walked nearly a block in silence before he glanced down at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  She laughed softly, but the sound was hollow. “I just thinking about…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s…embarrassing.”

  He nodded, not wanting to push her, and silence fell between them again.

  After a few moments, she said, “The last time I sat in a restaurant to have coffee with a virtual stranger was my first date with Mitch. We talked about everything from sports to art. I w
as so enamored by him. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me.” She looked up at Paul, and her wistful smile faded as her eyes grew wide. “Not that having coffee with you is a date. Nothing even close to that.”

  He grinned at the way her stumbling admission made her blush.

  “I just… It made me think… I’m going to shut up now.”

  Paul chuckled. “I know what you’re saying. The smallest thing can trip a memory. There’s a woman at work who wears a perfume similar to Michelle’s. I have grown to detest that woman for absolutely no logical reason other than that she smells like my ex. I met Michelle at a bar. I was there with some co-workers celebrating a win on a case. A bunch of men in suits and ties drinking too much. I’m sure she felt like a fox in a henhouse. Just pick one, any one, and go for the kill.”

  “Do you really think that’s all you were to her? A target?”

  “Honestly? Yes. A target with the money to give her what she wanted. And when I started to get wise to her, she moved on to her next target. Unfortunately, that was your husband. For that, I’m sorry.”

  “Please. I’m smart enough to realize a person can only be led astray if he chooses to be. He’s as much to blame as she is.”

  Dianna pointed to a hand-painted wooden sign that read Stonehill Café. He pulled the door open, and they stepped inside. The small restaurant was rundown, as she’d said, but the dining area was cozy, and he wondered why he hadn’t visited the place before. They sat at a table by the big window overlooking the street. Pumpkin-spiced something filled the air, and Paul inhaled deeply as they slid into a booth. Within moments, they’d ordered two coffees and uneasiness fell between them again.

  Finally, after taking a sip of the brew that had just been set before her, Dianna said, “I feel like we need to just get this out of the way.”

  He lifted his brow. “What?”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Ah.” He sat back but left his drink on the table. “Three years. You?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  He winced as sympathy stabbed at his heart. “Ouch.”

  “I’ve stopped thinking about how much time I wasted being married to him and have started thinking about getting the most out of the time I have left. He hated the theater and concerts and all those things that I loved doing, so eventually I just stopped asking to go. I’m hoping to get season tickets to the community theater next year. And I keep checking the concert lineup in the city. Mitch hated the noise and the crowds, but I love the excitement. I can’t afford to get tickets yet, but one of these days I will.” She bit her lip, as if embarrassed by what she’d blurted out. “I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I do that sometimes.”

  “No, you’re excited. That’s good. Post-marital bucket lists are good. It gives you something fun to think about. I remember doing that after my first divorce.” He grinned when she stopped lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “I’m two for two now.”

  “I can’t imagine going through this twice,” she said quietly. “I don’t think there’s enough of my heart left to survive it.”

  Paul leaned forward and toyed with his silverware. “You heal over time. Forget how much this part hurts.”

  “Like childbirth, right? If you remembered how much it hurt, you’d never do it again.”

  He smiled. “I’ve heard that.”

  “So, how much did you get marked off your list before getting remarried?”

  “Not nearly enough. I think I’ll revisit it.”

  The light mood faded a bit.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said quietly.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I can see it on your face.”

  He shook his head. “It’s just that…when I married her, I thought I had things figured out. I thought I had her figured out. I knew she was self-centered and narcissistic, but when I was with her, I felt like I was part of something that had been missing in my last marriage. I thought, even though she was always more about herself, that we were partners in our marriage. I took care of her and convinced myself that she took care of me as well. I can see more clearly now. Everything between us was as one-sided as my family kept telling me it was. I loved her. But I don’t know if she ever actually loved me. When I think of the things I gave up to be with her…I feel so stupid.”

  “Love has a way of blinding people, Paul. That doesn’t make you stupid any more than my contentment made me stupid. I trusted my husband. That’s what I was supposed to do, right? Believe him. Support him. Trust him. We weren’t stupid. We were betrayed. It’s hard to remember that sometimes, but that is the truth.”

  Paul looked out the window, but he wasn’t seeing the world around him. “How are you doing, Dianna? Really?”

  “Really? I don’t know. Mitch is gone. My boys are grown. All of a sudden, I’m alone. I go to work, I come home, and there’s so much quiet I want to scream, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do anything else.” She stared into her coffee cup. “It feels like too much work to try to find a new place in the world.”

  “Your friends and family—do they still look at you like someone died?”

  “Yeah. The ones who still talk to me anyway. An amazing number of people have simply disappeared from my life. But those who have stuck around have more pity than I care to see.”

  “The disappearing friends thing happens every time a relationship fails. People either feel like they have to choose sides, or they don’t know what to say so they simply avoid you. Don’t take it personally. At least you know who you can count on.”

  She nodded. “So how are you? Really?”

  Paul turned his mug in his hands. He wasn’t quite sure when coffee cups had become so damned fascinating, but somehow that was easier than looking at Dianna. The way she gazed at him, with so much understanding, made him want to talk about things he’d rather not.

  “I’m still pissed as hell,” he admitted. “I gave that woman everything she wanted. Everything. I did everything I was supposed to do. I sent her flowers, took her out, took her on vacations. She called it smothering. She said I expected too much out of her. The only expectation I ever had was for her to keep her goddamned legs closed when I wasn’t around.” He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled harshly as he realized what he’d said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “That’s okay.” Her voice was soft. Supportive. “You have every right to be furious. It sounds like you were a wonderful husband.”

  He shook his head. “My first wife left me because I was a stranger to her and our kids. I thought my job was to provide for them, and that’s what I did. I worked day and night to give them security. But I was wrong. They needed more than that. I swore I was going to do better with Michelle, so I paid as much attention to her as I could. And guess what? That was wrong, too.”

  Dianna frowned. “For a long time I thought all the anger I felt was because I caught them. But now I realize it’s not what I saw. It’s what I felt. It’s how he made me feel for so long, how I let him make me feel. Like he was doing me a favor by being married to me. Like I had to give up everything I wanted because I owed him the perfect wife and children and home.”

  Something in the way she said the words, the way her voice was so melancholy, made the need to protect her from something unseen rise in Paul’s chest. “Was he bad to you?”

  She lifted her gaze to his and shook her head slowly. “No. He was just…indifferent. He’d been so indifferent for so long that I didn’t even realize it anymore. I was his maid and his chef and his errand girl, but I stopped being his wife a long time ago.”

  “You deserve better than that.”

  “Well, so do you.”

  “You know what? They did us a favor. I mean, sure we’re miserable as hell right now, but at least they gave us the opportunity to move on and find someone who wants to be with us. Now that I think about it, I’m lucky to be getting out before the facelifts, implants, and liposuction begin. You better
believe in the next five years, her lips and chest will be as fake as her veneered teeth.”

  Dianna’s mouth widened with obvious shock at his bitter assessment, and then she grinned. “Oh, Mitch can’t handle high maintenance.”

  “Well, he’s getting high maintenance. I mean like…bow-before-me-and-blow-smoke-up-my-ass-every-day maintenance.”

  A laugh erupted from her, despite the hand she put to her lips. Her amusement tickled his, and for the first time in months, a genuine laugh escaped him. She dropped her hand to her chest as she rolled her head back and the musical sound coming from her grew louder.

  “I can’t…” She inhaled and shook her head as she met his gaze. “Oh, he has no idea what he’s getting into, does he?”

  “Probably not. She kind of springs it on her victims when they least expect it.” He was breathless, his words coming out between gasps.

  She chuckled harder. “He’s going to be so miserable.”

  “Good. Maybe he can share his misery with her.” He shook his head as he regained control of himself. “God, I haven’t laughed that hard in months.”

  “Me either.” Leaning forward, she put her elbow on the table and supported her chin in her palm.

  Her smile, her real smile, eased the crease between her brows, making her look much younger. Her eyes lost the haunted shadows, and the parentheses around her mouth creased upward instead of falling into a scowl. She was quite beautiful when she wasn’t looking so damned sorrowful. Not that she hadn’t been attractive when she was throwing coffee mugs in her kitchen. He hadn’t missed the graceful way she moved or the soft curve of her face that day. But he certainly hadn’t noticed it as strongly as he was with her grinning at him.

  He must have stared too long. She averted her gaze as she cleared her throat.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “Well. I’m going to finish my coffee. Then I’m going to go home.”