Page 51

Only Jude and Angel knew the details of our chaotic past, since the pair were my longest friends.

Still, I respected Bishop, and my chest tightened with the need to vent.

‘I wish we’d never split,’ I said, the admission flat and simple. ‘I made mess after mess back then. I was arrogant and blind. I shoulda met her when I was older and with the wisdom to keep her. Hell, we got hitched way too early, too fast.’

‘We weren’t that close back then, so I got little of the details that Jude, Angel, and the rest did.’

‘We met twelve years ago; I was 24, she was 21. We fell in love fast and got married within four months, clueless to what our vows meant. We adored each other, but we had no clue how to work through the hard times. While we built Six Sinners, Ana and I swung between crazy untamed passion for one another and massive fights.’

Bishop arched a brow. ‘Over what?’

‘At first, silly shit, like household chores and vacuuming,’ I told him, laughing dryly. ‘I didn’t notice the dust, so I didn’t do it.’

‘Damn, man,’ Bishop growled.

‘She wasn’t the best at communicating either. She left sticky notes that just said bedroom, expecting me to know she wanted the sheets changed.

‘That’s wild,’ Bishop grunted. ‘Didn’t anybody teach y’all how to use actual words, not riddles?’

‘It was a nightmare,’ I said. ‘My focus was also a mess; heck, most of it was on Six Sinners. Remember how hard we worked our asses off? We were touring every other week, taking Friday and Saturday night gigs and Sunday afternoons playing in bars and hotels to pay the bills. Ana had a flexible schedule, modeling until she got pregnant with Raff. However, the birth was full-on, and sleeplessness and caring for a baby piled on the stress. The second I walked in the door, she’d shove Raff at me and go to bed. If I had a late show and tried to sleep in, she got furious that the chores weren’t done and woke me to do them, leading to huge blow-ups.’

‘Damn.’

‘She slowly shut down,’ I murmured. ‘As did I; we began to punish each other with silence. Then the disdain kicked in.’

‘Man, that must have sucked,’ Bishop noted.

‘It drove me insane,’ I admitted. ‘She rolled her eyes at me, and I contemplated childish shit, like changing the Wi-Fi password or over-watering her ferns until they died.’

Bishop snorted. ‘Did you?’

‘No, but I ate all the fancy imported chocolates she hid in the pantry out of pure spite one time.’

I laughed, a bitter chuckle, remembering how immature we’d been.

‘I buried myself in our music, in the band, in my martial arts and Raff, and I neglected the most precious soul to me; my wife.’

‘Not wise, my guy,’ Bishop huffed.

‘Weak as fuck. But what broke us was Estella,’ I admitted.

My throat burned at stating the name that still brought so much pain to me, even after years of therapy.

‘After her, all intimacy vanished; our emotional connection crumbled right behind it. For months, Ana didn’t get out of bed. I grew exhausted from feeling alone in my own home. I got frustrated with her inability to let me in, and I might have said some horrible things to her about getting over Estella. We fought, and then I brooded and sulked, because I can shut down too if I want. I felt foolish for wanting to give love to someone who locked her heart and kept me out.’

‘Hell man, I feel for you both,’ Bishop muttered.

‘We made monumental mistakes. She thought that me asking her to at least focus on Raff was too much. She claimed I never cared for our daughter, that I was too nonchalant about her. She wanted to remain in grief; I was keen for us to move forward. So we iced each other. After we put Raff to bed, she spent her evenings on the opposite side of the house. Glued to her screen, or crying under covers while I worked in the studio. We lost one another, and became ships in the night.’

‘Did you try therapy?’ Bishop asked.

‘We went to two different couples counselors,’ I said, pushing a hand through my hair. ‘Ana joined in, but as soon as the counselor mentioned Estella, my wife panicked and quit. I think our baby girl broke her heart, and there was no healing she’d accept after that.’

Silence fell between my friend and me before I rumbled on.

‘She left me, pushed for a separation, and six months after the ink went dry on our divorce, she married Massimo Canelli, the Italian stallion. Which almost killed me, son.’

‘Does she know you feel that way?’