Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
I snagged my laptop bag and threw the strap over my shoulder before slipping out of the driver’s seat.
“He’s here, so I’ve got to go,” I heard her say from inside her SUV.
I wondered if she’d said it loudly enough to make sure I’d hear her.
But for being the one to confront me at my home when she knew I’d be off work, she sure as hell didn’t seem to be in any hurry as I stood in front of the SUV, waiting for her to tell me what she was doing here. Still, she found a way of continuing her conversation, so I started toward the house, when I heard her crack the door, giving me pause.
She said goodbye once again to the person on the other end before approaching me, AirPods in both ears. My gaze shifted between them, annoyed as fuck, since I remembered a thousand times when she had similarly insulted me by being half-present throughout the course of our relationship. Just my look was enough to have her rolling her eyes before she pulled them out.
When it came to things like that, we had our familiar nonverbal exchanges that felt almost psychic because of how well we knew each other. Of course, that psychic impulse would have helped a lot more if it had been screaming, Your wife is having another goddamn affair, dumbass!
“Sheila, what are you doing here?” I asked in an even more exasperated tone than I’d intended.
“Well, if you keep ignoring my calls—”
“You called twice while I was at work. And it’s not like my hours are that hard to figure out.”
“I know you well enough to know when you’re ignoring me.”
It was my damned right to ignore her. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing in the middle of your driveway.” She looked over my home before scanning the neighborhood. “I can’t believe you moved all the way to Whispersaw County. Sales tax is great, but you’re not even on the good side.”
Oh, she sure knew how to work me up. My cheeks burned with hot fury. “I’m not in the mood for this. Anything we need to talk about, we can discuss through email, but you don’t get to show up out of the blue whenever you want to have a conversation about something.”
“This is absurd. I have something important to talk to you about. It won’t take long. What, you want me to go all the way home now and then shoot you an email over something that will take ten minutes?”
It was hard to fight her, always had been. There was no doubt in my mind that was why I’d had to pry myself free of her grasp.
“Whatever,” I said, ashamed of myself for giving in, as I always seemed to throughout our relationship.
We headed inside, and nearly as soon as she stepped into the foyer, she remarked, “I see unpacking isn’t a priority.” I noticed her eyeing my neglected stack in the corner of the adjoining den—the stack I probably still needed to dig through to find my umbrella. Although, not having it with me hadn’t turned out so bad at all, so I guessed it was why I wasn’t in any hurry to find it.
“If this is how you’re going to be, you can just leave.”
“Oh, where is that fun-loving, unshakable man I met?”
You killed him.
I didn’t respond to her comment, since it was evident she was trying to pick at me.
I led her into the kitchen, and she assessed the view of my backyard through the French doors on the back wall. “That’s a beautiful sight. Hard to find woods like these with all the construction going on around here.” I almost appreciated the compliment, until she added, “But you know all these leaves will die in the fall, and you’ll have to rake them.”
“I’m perfectly capable of raking a yard, or hiring someone to do it for me. What did you come over here for?”
She made herself comfortable at the dining table as I headed to the cabinet and fixed myself a drink when she said, “It’s about filing.”
I froze, a bottle of Maker’s tilted in my hand over the glass I was tempted to fill to the brim. “You told me you filed. You stalled before begging me to let you file, and then you told me you did last week.”
“Yes…I filled out the papers.”
“That’s not the same thing as filing them, is it? Sheila— You know what? I’m not having this fight with you. There’s no fight. You didn’t. So I’ll do it.”
“Please, James. The university insurance is a joke. Just the thought of navigating special enrollment triggers my anxiety. And I checked the COBRA site. I’d be paying six times what we pay through your work. You know money is tight for me while I’m finishing my thesis.”