Page 2 of From Coast to Coast
“Stagnant? Ree, our sex life is a fucking cold, dead corpse. Answer me—do you feel satisfied when we’re together? Do you like it? Have youever?”
I’d tried waiting her out—letting the moment stretch to five uncomfortable minutes. She’d waited. She’d always been the more patient of us.
“No.” I’d flinched, as I said it. The truth is: I’d never felt satisfied when we were together—not once. I couldn’t tell her that, though, no matter that I hated her a little bit for putting us in this situation. And even though she’d been the one who put the knife in my hands, I didn’t hate her enough to stick it between her ribs.
She’d stared at me and I’d stared back, that little bit of honesty bigger than any elephant in the room.
“Sign the papers,” she’d said, and neatly stepped around me and out the front door. It was the first time I’d seen her without a boardroom table between us in months, and I knew it would be the last.
Since then, I’d done my level best to fuck every willing woman within a fifty-mile radius. Alex told me this was a common occurrence in the divorce world and that I should have some fun. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t having fun. Apparently, Amanda and I weren’t the problem—I was.
“Remy, seriously,” Alex says, bringing me back to the present with a hard squeeze on my neck. “This is the best outcome you could have hoped for. Now, when you go to Calgary, you’ll be starting over with a clean slate. You’ll be Remy Stone, single-and-ready-to-mingle NHL forward, instead of Remy Stone who occasionally has to fly back to Cali for fucking divorce court.”
I laugh, because that’s what he wants me to do and not because I’m feeling anything but miserable. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Letting his arm slide from my shoulders, he reaches in front of me to open the scarred wooden door of a pub. I don’t bother looking at the sign; it doesn’t matter where we are as long as they serve alcohol and oblivion. Sitting down, I leavethe drinks to Alex and check my phone. There are two messages from the public relations coordinator of my new team, and one from my new captain, as well. I respond to my captain before tucking my phone away and waiting for Alex to join me.
“See anything you like?” he asks, setting a tray of shots down on the table and perching on the stool next to mine. I stare at him with incomprehension, before realizing he’d mistook my aimless staring as interest in the girls clustered by the bar.
“No.”
“Taking a vow of celibacy?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Already sick of meaningless hookups? After only a couple months of freedom?” He shakes his head sadly. “The lobby full of men waiting for me to divorce them would be disappointed.”
“I won’t tell,” I say, and mime locking my lips closed. He smiles at me, but cocks his head to the side as he surveys me. I know him well enough to know that the joke was an invitation to talk to him. I debate for a few minutes, before deciding none of my laundry is dirty enough to keep hidden from him.
“Honestly,” I start, staring down at the empty shot glass in my hand, “I could take or leave sex, at this point. It takes forever for me to get it up, and I never feel fucking satisfied.”
Alex’s eyebrows rise at this confession, but he doesn’t laugh. “So, what, you’re banging your way across the state in search of the woman who raises your flag?”
I choke on a laugh, and he smiles at me. Together, we throw back a shot. Of all the things I love about California,Alex is going to be what I miss the most when I’m on a plane to Calgary tomorrow.
“The last girl I picked up?” I wait for him to nod. “I didn’t even finish. First time I’ve ever left a sexual encounter without coming.”
“Maybe you should be telling this to your doctor,” he says wryly. I flip him off. He opens his mouth, closes it, and looks across the room toward the girls at the bar. He throws back another shot before he continues in a careful voice. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“Listen, Alex. I know being my lawyer makes us closer than I ever wanted us to be, but I really don’t need to know how you and Serena keep things interesting.”
“So says the person who overshares constantly. I wasn’t going to, though. However, I would like to offer a little insight, if you promise not to punch me for it.”
Interested despite myself, I pick up a shot glass and wave it in a “goahead” motion. He waits for me to swallow before he talks.
“You’ve never referred to Amanda as anything other than your best friend,” he says. “Not once have I heard you call her the love of your life, or soulmate, oranythingremotely romantic. Seriously, the pair of you acted more like siblings than a married couple. I never got the impression that you werein lovewith each other.”
“I never promised not to punch you,” I point out, and he holds up a hand.
“Sometimes people on the outside have more insight to offer than those on the inside. I’m not giving you a hard time. In fact…” He pauses, frowning down at his empty shot glass. “Have you ever considered men?”
“Considered men, what?” I ask, nonplussed.
“Dating them.”
“Literally never.” I laugh, shaking my head at him. “Are you seriously trying to blame my marriage problems on a…closeted-gay-man theory? You know I spend all of my time surrounded by half-naked hockey players, right? I’m pretty sure I’d have discovered an attraction to dudes before now.”
“You’ve never been a little curious?” he presses. I gape at him.