Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

shoved my head between her legs.
Her giggles, her attitude, the way she could easily match my intellect,
holding conversations with me without me needing to slow down or catch her
up.
Her love.
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking a sharp turn and stalking down the hall to my
office, pushing the door open with so much force the doorknob knocks into
the drywall.
“I couldn’t help noticing the lack of a certain lass,” Jonas says, looking
over his shoulder as if expecting Elena to materialize from thin air. “Am I
correct in thinking you’ve come to your senses about this marriage?”
Pouring two tumblers of scotch, I bring them to my desk and settle in
behind it, sliding the opposite one across to him. He sits in the leather
armchair in front of me, accepting the glass, his mason jar abandoned.
“You’d be... correct-adjacent,” I say, taking a drink, allowing the burn of
the liquid sliding down my throat to momentarily dull the ache in my chest.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I exhale slowly, circling one finger
around the rim of my glass. “I dissolved the trust.”
Jonas blinks once. Twice. Three times. He swallows his drink audibly,
leaning forward, his leather jacket creaking with the motion. “You what?”
“Violet’s not taking my calls, and she’s been extremely adamant about
not wanting my money, or my presence in her life at all, really. What’s the
point of me letting the trust sit unused, if the one person I want to have it
won’t take it?”
“It’s accumulating interest—”
I nod, already aware of any angle he might go over. On the plane ride
home, my grandfather’s estate attorney explored every potential avenue of
funneling the money out, and while I could’ve donated it to charity, or kept it
for a rainy day, ultimately I decided to buy myself out of Ricci Inc.
“Wait,” Jonas says, holding a finger up. “You bought your way out of
your wife’s family’s company?”
“I wanted to retire, anyway. I’m getting too old for this lifestyle.”
Jonas rolls his eyes. “Bloody hell, mate, you’re thirty-two. Are you sure
this isn’t one of those crazy, impulsive moves you make when you feel
backed into a corner?”
He doesn’t have to come outright and say it, but the implication is there:
like my marriage.