Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Tom and his family were affluent, but it wasn’t until I filed for divorce that I learned exactly how well Tom had done on his own. All I knew was that we were comfortable, we had a nice house in a beautiful neighborhood, we drove latest-model cars, and I didn’t have to clip coupons. In the end, Tom didn’t put up a fight. He gave me a little over $10 million in our divorce settlement without batting an eye. Maybe he felt guilty, but getting that settlement didn’t make me feel any better. I would have rather had the life he promised me the day we got married.
The sound of the doorbell brings me out of my thoughts. As soon as I see the shadowy figure on the other side of the glass, I roll my eyes skyward and stomp across the highly polished dark hardwood floors.
“Yes?” I ask after I swing the heavy wooden door open.
“I figured you were busy packing, so I brought dinner,” Tom says, holding up a brown paper bag between us like a peace offering.
I pull in a deep breath and watch him shift on his feet, looking uncomfortable. It’s weird that I don’t find him the least bit attractive now. When we got together I thought he was a good-looking man: he’s tall and lean with blond hair and brown eyes that used to make me melt when he looked at me.
“Shouldn’t you be home with your girlfriend and newborn?” I ask, not able to keep the bite out of my tone.
Since his daughter was born two months ago, he’s been doing things like this more and more. That is, showing up unannounced, asking me to meet for dinner, calling all the time. Which is why I decided not to buy Tom out of the house, but to put it on the market and take the job Abby offered me instead. Living in the same city with him has been hard. I hate seeing him. I hated running into his pregnant girlfriend at the grocery store, where I had to endure her catty looks. I hate that his mom lives across the street and still thinks it’s okay to stop by whenever she wants. Don’t get me wrong, I love his mom, but seeing her is a reminder of the family I lost. I also really hate that Tom seems to think that he still has some kind of right to my time, that he can call or stop by whenever he feels like it.
“She’s out,” he says, and there is no ignoring the slight tic in his jaw. “Can I come in?”
“I’m busy, Tom. I have a lot to do before the movers get here in the morning.”
He looks over my shoulder, into the house, before looking back to me. “I can help.”
“I don’t need any help,” I state, blocking his way when he starts to take a step forward.
“Courtney, I . . .” His words trail off as he runs his fingers through his hair.
I used to find it endearing when he would do that as he tried to get his thoughts together, but now I just find it annoying. Really, I find everything about him annoying.
“Tom, just go home.” I sigh, shaking my head.
“Can you cut me some slack here? Try to understand what I’m going through?”
“Cut you some slack?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I think I cut you too much slack, if you ask me. And what exactly are you going through?” I question snidely, not able to stop myself.
“My wife is leaving the state. I think I have a valid reason to be upset.”
“Ex-wife.” My jaw clenches as I spit out that reminder.
“I still love you.”
“You got another woman pregnant while we were married. While I was going through fertility treatments. So I’m sorry, but I don’t think you do love me. Really, I don’t think you ever did.” I’m tempted to shut the door in his face.
“You know I was going through a lot at work. With you trying to get pregnant . . . things weren’t easy for me.”
Inhaling sharply, I tighten my grip on the doorknob as I try to control the sudden fury that is coursing through my veins. “Screw. You.”
I cannot believe I was married to this man. I can’t believe that I didn’t see him for the selfish asshole he is. I really must have been blind.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes close briefly. “I didn’t . . .” He shakes his head. “My head’s all messed up. I want us to be friends. I miss you. I miss talking to you.” Again with the talking. The last two years of our marriage, I did all the talking, and felt like I was losing my mind, like I was being unreasonable wanting time and attention from him.