The expected barbs still hit close to home, and their sting was as fresh as the first arguments they'd shared over much more miniscule objections. His teeth gritted behind closed lips, any attempts made to school his face cracking around the edges. Of course she knew exactly where to hit, where the fractures would be that she could wedge into and enlarge for the most damage possible. They both knew how to wound one another - if there was one thing they'd gotten out of their marriage, it had been all the weaknesses and ways they would need to amplify their fights to the umpteenth degree.
"You didn't kick me out, I left," he muttered under his breath, once more attempting to convince himself rather than anyone else. The space had become stifling, and even when they hardly saw one another because Julian was working himself to death at the club, they still found moments to clash horns, increasing the hostility exponentially every time they had crossed paths. Julian had simply been at a loss to understand why Ariana had started acting in such a fashion - sure, maybe he'd forgotten a date here or there, but he'd always made up for it afterward. Why couldn't she comprehend that the business was like a baby, that it needed constant attention? For awhile she had seemed perfectly aware of the fact that he was dedicated to the club, and then everything had turned on its head.
And there it was, the inevitable remark about CASKET. It was like bringing 'the other woman' into the conversation, and Julian felt his hackles rise as anger immediately stamped out the guilt that had invaded his mind over the past week. He'd known from the start that the guilt was uncalled for, that filing for divorce had been the right action. It had been so long since he'd felt the emotions that had caused him to spontaneously get down on one knee with a ridiculously priced ring and convince Ariana to spend the rest of her life with him. It had felt so right back then, like nothing would come between them - but of course, despite everything he had done for her, she'd found one thing to nitpick and agonize over in order to destroy their relationship.
"Maybe I am. Wouldn't that reassure you that we'd see less of each other? Although I know you must be missing me since you always had such trouble establishing a social life around here," he shot back, the snide reminder of how he'd played such a huge role in her life in California. Everyone she'd met, friends or colleagues or otherwise, had been through him; that he'd given her a reason to stay, a dream to work toward (nevermind that it had been his dream, she'd seemed excited about it to begin with), and had included her in every part of his life up until she had suddenly changed without preempt. The idea that all of the blame rested squarely on her shoulders justified every word that would come rolling out of his mouth, no matter how harsh it might be.
Maybe he had spent a lot of time at CASKET, but it was his homegrown business; maybe all that concentration at work had caused him to forget a few things, but what did they matter in the larger scheme? Couldn't she be a big girl and get over it, act like the mature woman she was always claiming to be? Julian hooked one hand through the belt loops on his pants, falling easily into a slouch. Of course, for the moment the ball was in Ariana's court, but he well remembered their last encounter - should things prove too hot for him, the elevator was always waiting at the end of the hall, right behind where his estranged wife was standing.