Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“You’re right,” I admit. “But I’m not a saint. It was hard enough signing those papers as it was. I think having to hand them to him in person to watch him sign them might have torn me in two. And let’s not forget,” I continue quickly when she opens her mouth to argue. “It was Colin who initiated the divorce in the first place. I simply gave him what he wanted.”
“Are you sure that’s what he wanted? If you didn’t bother to talk to him …”
“He gave Rebecca an engagement ring, Mom.”
“But that was before you moved back, and you two—”
“No,” I cut in, keeping my voice gentle since I know how much she loves Colin and had hopes of him being her son for real. “He gave it to her just a few days ago. I saw it myself. He chose her.”
She lets out a long breath and slumps back in her chair. “Well, shit.”
“Mom!” I don’t think I’ve ever heard her curse.
She glances at the table and points at the bottle of wine. “Think I can get a glass of that?”
“Absolutely,” I say with a smile.
I spend the rest of the evening laughing and drinking with my mom and two of my best friends. It’s almost enough to make me forget about Colin.
Almost.
Chapter 40
Thursday, November 19
Now, look, I’m not going to call it rock bottom.
But I’m also not going to say that my pride isn’t stinging a little about the fact that I’m thirty-one years old and living with my parents.
Granted, it’s temporary, just until I find a place of my own and figure out what the heck comes next. I tried to tell my mom I could stay in a hotel, but you can guess how that went over. So, here I am. In my old bedroom.
Now, as I’ve said, it looks nothing like the room I grew up in, which is actually sort of a good thing. This way I’m able to tell my pride that I’m merely staying in my parents’ guest room, not “moving back home.”
I’ve been here for a couple of days now, but the unsettling sense of déjà vu hasn’t faded yet. I’m uncomfortably aware that this is the second time in three months that I’ve gotten off a plane from San Francisco to New York armed with only one suitcase and one carry-on, my other belongings to follow. It’s the second time in three months I’m living in someone else’s home, feeling a little in limbo.
This time is even more complicated since I only have some of my belongings with me; the rest is en route from California, and I left behind a handful of items at Colin’s place. I took the essentials when I ditched that whole messy situation a couple of weeks ago, but I wasn’t able to fit everything in the suitcase.
I know eventually I’ll have to coordinate with him to get my stuff back. Or, I could just resign myself to never seeing that portion of my wardrobe so I don’t have to face him. Option number two is sounding very appealing.
It’s seven o’clock on a rainy Thursday night, and the house is eerily quiet. My parents are at a dinner party, something I’d insisted they go to, despite my mother’s offer to stay home. It’s embarrassing enough to be living with them. I draw the line at letting them feel like they have to babysit me.
Still, I’m regretting their absence a little. I don’t want to be alone. I start to text Meghan then delete it before hitting send. I start to text another friend then delete that too. I even start to text Drew, my high school boyfriend, thinking that might be just the distraction I need.
I can’t make myself hit send on that message either.
I realize that I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with anyone other than …
Him.
I knew I’d miss Colin, but I didn’t realize I’d crave him. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss talking with him, even if it was to listen to him grumble about my cooking messes. I didn’t realize how much his rare smiles could make my entire day brighter, or how much just being in the same room as him seemed to center me.
But, of course, that’s a non-option. He’s probably picking out freaking China patterns with freaking Rebecca.
Still, even though the pain is still alive and well, I don’t regret signing those divorce papers. I really don’t. Going on like Colin and I did wasn’t good for either of us. It even occurs to me that maybe it was supposed to go down that way. Haven’t I been sensing for weeks now that it’s time for a fresh start? We all know when I want a fresh start, I go big, and well, breaking my prenup in dramatic fashion so that the love of my life can marry the love of his life feels like a suitably dramatic way to start the next phase of my life.