The Divorce Diet Page 4

  Walking inside, I spied Pharis on her usual stool at the far end of the bar.

  With a beer in one hand, she was laughing and leaning into the man next to her.

  Stepping closer I see...

  The motherfucker is touching her back. No, literally. His hand was on her back.

  When a few of the regulars spotted me, I received a nod, an eye roll, and even a middle finger.

  Because not too long ago I’d have been on the stool next to hers with one hand around her waist and the other holding my own beer. When Pharis and I were together, we had been affectionate.

  So seeing her smile with a man that wasn’t me? Let’s just say, fuck no.

  If I could piss on her to mark my territory, I would.

  But that would be pushing it, cop or not.

  Coming up behind her, I clear my throat. When she glances over her shoulder at me, I almost retreated. No, I didn’t belong here. No, this wouldn’t end well. No, I did not care.

  I came here for her and wasn’t leaving without her.

  “We need to talk,” I said reasonably.

  “Game’s on,” she countered, turning away to ignore me.

  “Just need a few minutes of your time, Pharis.”

  “Go through the attorney, Eddie.”

  “Trying to be civil here,” I said low. “But I don’t mind making a scene either.”

  Eyeing me, the prick next to her asked, “You know this cop?”

  “Used to be married to him,” she shrugged carelessly.

  “But you ain’t no more?”

  “Last time I checked, that’s what divorce means.”

  Facing me, he bravely said, “You’re interrupting us. Fuck off.”

  Before I could speak, she placed her hand on his goddamn arm and said, “Challenging him won’t bode well for you so I suggest you don’t.”

  See? She gets me.

  “Last time I’m asking,” I informed her. “If I have to do it again, we’ll be having this discussion while you’re cuffed.”

  Whirling around with fire in her eyes, she warned, “You fucking wouldn’t.”

  “I fucking would,” I shot back.

  Sliding from her stool, she got in my space, took one finger to poke me in the chest with.

  “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you aren’t doing this here.”

  “I agree,” I grinned shamelessly. “Let’s step outside and do it there, like a couple.”

  “You’re insane,” she growled, pushing me hard enough I had to brace.

  “Listen man,” the asshole added. “She ain’t into you. Can you fucking go so we can watch this game?”

  “Ever seen a woman arrested for assault?” I asked him evenly.

  “Can’t say that I have, no.”

  “Then it’s your lucky day.”

  Right there, for all to see and hear, Pharis lunged for me while growling, “You fucking fucktrumpet!”

  And when I arrested my ex-wife, I did so smiling.

  During our marriage, I lived and breathed my husband.

  No, I wasn’t Suzie Homemaker, but I was always there for him.

  When he woke up in a cold sweat, I was there with a towel.

  When he couldn’t sleep, I stayed awake with him.

  When he had to see a counselor, I waited out front of the therapist’s door.

  Unfortunately, when he pulled away I was so hurt I didn’t fight.

  I guess because to fight meant you had to talk.

  And I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what he had to say.

  So I said nothing at all.

  And neither did he. As far as regrets go, let’s just say I have my own nightmares now. Only, there is no Eddie, no rock to hold me when I fall apart.

  I used to love it when Eddie handcuffed me.

  It was kinky and being his prisoner always resulted in numerous orgasms.

  Not the case right now though.

  Because that son of a bitch fake-arrested me in front of everyone at the bar.

  The bar I frequent, no less.

  McShane’s was my Cheers. I was the cute, sporty version of Norm but with a tight ass.

  And he ruined it!

  I couldn’t tell you what was said on the ride to the station because I was a screaming, swearing, head case who wanted to kill her ex-husband. However, the angrier and meaner I got, per typical Eddie, his response was, “All you’re doing is turning me on, superstar.”

  See? Prick.

  Hauling me inside, I expected it wouldn’t take long for his fellow officers to realize this was about to go from bad to worse. Except it didn’t. As I was steered toward holding, I was given smirks, waves, and even a pat on the ass. These people had once been my friends, and I’ve missed them.

  It was my choice to give them up after the divorce, and it wasn’t an easy choice to make.

  As we cleared the bullpen, I yelled, “Traitors!” to the room.

  And yes, their laughter pissed me off immensely.

  But Eddie’s chuckle sent me over the edge.

  So, as he was ushering me inside my cell, I played pliant long enough for him to remove the handcuffs. And the second those suckers were off I punched my ex-husband right in the nose.

  Staggering back, he yelled, “The fuck was that for?”

  “You arrested me!” The last thing I needed right now was the media to catch wind of this. It’s bad enough that next time I went to the bar to catch a game I’d have to explain this nightmare away. But for this to go viral? Right as I was in position to move?

  “Had you given me five minutes I wouldn’t have had to! Am I bleeding?”

  “Yes,” I smiled smugly.

  “God, you’re mean,” he said, shaking his head. “I like this side of you, Pharis.”

  “Do I get a phone call?” I ignored his heated stare. A stare that was doing things to me. Naughty things. Jail cell sex things. “Because if I do, I’m calling the police!”

  “Someone say police?” Butch said, strutting in with his usual swagger.

  “Need a jail break?” Aaron asked right on his heels with a grin on his face.

  I would never say aloud how much I missed seeing the three of them together. Like Eddie and me used to, they fit.

  “Hi, guys.” I waved right as Eddie locks me in. “How are things?”

  “What’d you do this time, superstar?” Butch asked, leaning against the bars. Like always, I extend my arms and best as he could, he gives me a big hug. Butch didn’t see the divorce as a breakup in our friendship. And as much as I had tried to back away he wasn’t having it. Butch was always checking on me, asking me dating advice, which personally made no sense since I had no experience with it. At the end of the day I realized he hadn’t wanted to lose me as a friend.

  “Assault,” Eddie chimed in.

  “Yeah?” Aaron laughed. “Was that before or after you cuffed her?”

  “Before,” I provided helpfully. “But the bloody nose came after.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” he grunted. “I just needed to talk to you; ask you a fucking question!”

  Ignoring Eddie, I played catch up with the guys until the Chief walked in shaking his head.

  “Howdy, sir.” I mock salute. “Are my tax dollars covering this? If so, I want pizza.”

  “Do I even want to know?” he eyed me but directed the question at Eddie.

  “No, sir,” Eddie mumbled from the corner. He did this for two reasons. One, he hated being ignored, and two, he hated being in trouble. Cops and rules, ya know...

  “If I’m sprung I’m willing to spill.” I waved enthusiastically. “Especially for deep dish!”

  Regarding Eddie, he ordered, “Open it.”

  “But...”

  “She is getting a hug and being released, Lieutenant Ellis. Our cells are for criminals,” he reprimanded. “Work your shit out elsewhere, like in a ring where she can finish kicking your ass, and I can buy a ticket for it.”

  When my
cell was opened, I went straight into the chief’s arms, giving him the best hug I had to offer.

  “Staying out of trouble?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Never,” I said, kissing his scruffy cheek.

  Once the chief was gone, leaving me with Eddie and the boys, I took in the way he watched me, thought about how I wanted to handle it. But instead of saying a word, I walked away.

  I guess some habits are hard to break.

  “You’ve been naughty,” I teased my wife by dangling a pair of cuffs from my fingers.

  “Prove it,” she dared by shaking her ass.

  “Pharis Ellis,” I growled and sealed them gently over her wrists. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you scream or beg for will be used against you while I spank your ass red. Do you understand these rights as I’ve explained them to you?”

  “Do I get an attorney?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No,” I said, bending her over and ripping her thong off. “You get my cock.”

  Okay so, that went sideways in a hurry...

  “Move,” I warned Butch, already tired of his interference.

  “Let her go, man.”

  “Mind your fucking business, man.”

  “You made it my business when you cuffed her at McShane’s, shoved her in a squad car, and paraded her through the fucking precinct, Eddie. Customers took videos! Do you know how many calls came in making sure it was legit and that she was okay? People want answers, you asshole. You can’t arrest Pharis Hilton—”

  “Ellis,” I roared at the reminder she once had my name, but no longer did. When I found out she petitioned to have her name changed, I bawled my fucking eyes out.

  “—And expect no one to ask questions. What about her fucking career? You even consider that?”

  Actually, not until he’d mentioned it and now that he had, I was fucking worried.

  Pushing by him, he yelled, “Where are you going?” I didn’t bother to answer.

  Instead, I hauled ass to my truck and went in pursuit of my not so ex-wife.

  She was pissed, so I knew she was back at her office inside of Ford Field.

  The stadium was her second home, and her personal office was clutch as fuck.

  She liked to go there and think often. And honestly, if that were my office? I would too.

  I think I loved the space even more than she did because where most people in her position would flaunt their achievements, Pharis didn’t adorn her walls with awards and proof of the rich and powerful she often runs with. No, she paid homage to her hometown team and the players she loved so much.

  That was so goddamn humble that every time I stepped over the threshold, I got hard just thinking about how she looked sitting behind her desk.

  Flashing my badge, I was allowed entrance and found her right as she was exiting her office.

  “Oh God, now what?” she asked sticking a hip out, which is code for, back the fuck up.

  “Never got to talk to you,” I reminded her.

  “Then take a hint,” she said, trying to go around me.

  “What’d you come back here for?”

  “My laptop,” she said angrily. “Oh, and let’s not forget, I still work here.”

  “What do you mean still?”

  Stalking toward the elevator, she punched the button and when the door opened, I of course joined her.

  Swiping her badge, we stood in silence as the door closes and the box begins to move.

  When it lurched, sending Pharis into my arms, and came to a stop, I held her tight a little longer than I’m sure she appreciated. But having her in my arms was what I focused on. Not the situation.

  “Did you do this?” she accused breathlessly. This was Pharis starting to panic because she hated confined spaces. It’s also why her legs are so fucking strong. Normally, she took the steps.

  So this was proof she was furious, or so turned on by my presence she wasn't thinking clearly.

  “Stop the elevator?” I laughed. “No, but I’ll take credit if I get to keep holding you.”

  “I’m serious, Eddie.” She pushed out of my arms.

  “I can see that,” I grinned. “But now that we’ve got some time, I have a few things to say.”

  “You talk a lot for a dick.”

  “I remember a time when I was your dick.”

  Not taking the bait, she asked, “What is it? You need money?”

  “I don’t need money,” I grumbled. “I’m saving money by staying with Aaron.”

  Listen, Pharis made fantastic bank. Me, I do okay, but I’m not on her pay level and never will be. But I was not tracking her down to ask for money. I wasn’t that guy.

  “Then why are you stalking me?”

  “I’m not—” I stop myself because I totally was. “I haven’t talked to you since...”

  “Court,” she said, checking her nails and pretending to hide her anxiety. “The day our divorce was finalized.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say it,” she yelled and it echoed off the walls. “Divorce. We are divorced. As in, no longer married. Say it, Eddie.”

  When the panel dinged, alerting us to the box working again, I wasn’t sure if I was frustrated or relieved. Not that I expected her to make this easy for me, but fuck...

  Arriving at our floor, the door opened, and I stood there with my hands tucked into my pockets.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

  “I tried keeping my distance. I fucking tried. I only wanted what’s best for you...”

  While she said nothing, her eyes said everything. She was hurt, confused, and unsure about my sudden reappearance. So, there was no miscommunication I added, “I’m what’s best for you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Can we please forget all the bullshit that got us here?”

  “Are you serious?” she laughed.

  “The question I wanted to ask was can we leave the past behind so I can meet you for the first time right now?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Stepping off the elevator, she said, “Time’s up, Eddie,” while she walked the other way.

  Seems every time she walked away she was taking my heart with her. Only this time she wasn’t calling the shots. Yelling for all to hear, I called her name. And when she turned, I told her, “This isn’t goodbye, superstar. This is hello.”

  Her response? She flipped me off.

  My husband loved my office more than I did and that was saying something.

  Though, he was obsessed with my desk chair. Probably because it was soft, heated, swiveled easily, and even gave massages, but mostly it’s because it reclined.

  Eddie loved getting blow jobs in my chair.

  What’s more, I loved giving them.

  Good thing I had a cleaning service.

  Why I was still in the lot staring at the stadium was beyond me.

  I had my laptop so really there was no reason for me to be here.

  Truthfully, I didn’t need the laptop either. I just wasn’t ready to go home to an empty house.

  No more than I was ready to process what Eddie had just said.

  How easily that man broke my heart...

  Right now, the prospect of moving held more appeal than it had earlier today.

  The sooner I got out of Detroit, the better.

  I couldn’t take loneliness any more than I could invest in figuring out Eddie’s renewed interest in me. Too little too late...

  Dialing Connie, I wasn’t surprised when I heard bar noise in the background.

  “How’s happy hour?” I asked her, wishing I was with her.

  “It’d be better if you were here,” she said. “Am I your one phone call or did the chief spring you?”

  “I’m sprung,” I said on a sigh, and I knew without a doubt, Aaron told Connie the second I entered the precinct. Pillow talk and such.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you at Harry’s?” Fun fact: Harry’s is a fantas
tic sports bar, I highly recommend it.

  Oh, and if you go, drop my name and you’ll get a free shot of cheap whiskey.

  “You know it,” she confirmed.

  “Does Gus have the news on?”

  “Yo, Gus!” she yelled. “Turn on the news! Okay, now what?”

  Checking my watch, I whispered, “You’ll see.”

  “Did you kill someone and not call me, superstar? You really need to learn how to be a team player.”

  “No, I didn’t kill anyone,” I chuckled and when she gasped, I closed my eyes.

  “Holy shit,” she said softly. “You’re really leaving?”

  “I’m going to be an analyst in Miami.”

  “That’s like the other side of the world,” she cries out. “But, I get it. Fresh start, new memories. Shit, Pharis, this is huge! You really are a superstar!”

  “Yeah,” I said more to myself than her.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I can’t...” Stay here anymore, miss Eddie anymore. “I need to.”

  “Did you tell Bridget yet?”

  “She’s my next call.”

  “Prepare yourself for tears,” she said. “I know this wasn’t an easy decision for you but, I’m proud of you. Oh! And I’ve got just the bikini for this too! But seriously, congrats Pharis.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Enjoy happy hour, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Dialing Bridget, I dropped my news and helped her work through her tears. My girlfriends were really the best and between the three of us we’ll be racking up our miles, that’s for sure.

  “Can I ask about Eddie?” Bridget inquired shyly.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I confessed. “He just keeps showing up, wanting to talk.”

  “Maybe hear him out?”

  “Last time I did that we ended up sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

  Pondering the significance of that, she whispered, “So Miami.”

  “Miami.”

  For the record, moving on wasn’t easy.

  Because broken hearts traveled well.

  Balls deep inside of my wife, back arched, nails in my back, she begs, “Tell me you love me.”

  Thrusting harder, deeper, I slap her ass, drill into her pussy until I’m making her explode beneath me and like always, where she went, I gladly followed.