Chapter 2

Ethan chose the coffee shop on the ground floor of his office building for the signing. On March 11, I arrived ten minutes early in a loose dress and found him already seated with his counsel.

His lawyer stood. Ethan didn't.

“Nora.” He glanced at the folder under my arm. “You had someone look at it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He said it as if I'd completed an errand he'd assigned me. I took the chair opposite him and ordered hot water. Coffee smelled wonderful lately, right up until it made me gag.

His counsel reviewed the final document. The three installments were unchanged. So were the dates. I followed along with my own copy, checking each page against the draft I'd read.

“Anything else you want?” Ethan asked.

“My clothes, books, and personal documents. They're listed.”

“I meant in the agreement.”

“No.”

His counsel slid the signature copy across the table. I uncapped the pen.

Before I could write, Ethan put his hand on the page.

I looked at it. His watch rested just above the cuff of his shirt. During our first winter together, he'd tucked my cold hand into his coat pocket and kept it there all the way to the car. I remembered being surprised that someone like him could be so gentle with me.

Now I waited for him to move his fingers.

“You're sure?” he asked.

I felt a quick, unpleasant jolt. He wasn't withdrawing the offer, was he?

“Completely.”

“This isn't something you can undo because you're upset.”

“I'm not asking to undo it.”

He studied my face. I let him. There wasn't anything I needed him to find there.

At last he moved his hand.

I signed Nora Bennett in the space provided. My name looked familiar and oddly new on the page. Ethan signed next, with the same quick stroke he used on everything.

His counsel gathered the copies and explained the remaining filing steps. The contractual payment dates would stand while the divorce paperwork proceeded. I asked for my signed copy before anyone left the table.

“The money will come on time,” Ethan said.

“Thank you.”

It was politeness, not gratitude. He had agreed to pay it.

I stood, tucked the folder into my bag, and told him I'd remove my things that afternoon. I would leave the SUV and its keys at the house.

“You can take more time,” he said.

“I don't need more time.”

Outside, I stopped on the sidewalk. It had rained overnight, and the March air was cool enough to make me draw a deeper breath. There was traffic at the corner, a delivery cart rattling behind me, someone swearing at a parking meter. I wanted to stand there for a while and hear all of it.

Maya called.

“Done?”

“Signed.”

“Both of you?”

“Both of us. I have a copy.”

“Excellent. I found an apartment. Two bedrooms, elevator, grocery store downstairs. Your clinic is a short walk away.”

I laughed. “Were you waiting for him to sign or just waiting for me to catch up?”

“The second thing. Go get your stuff. I'll pick you up at three.”

I took a car back to the house and finished packing. One suitcase held my clothes. The second was half full of toiletries, books, and documents. I checked the drawers again because it felt impossible that two and a half years had produced so little to carry.

In the bathroom, I left the towels I'd washed every week. In the kitchen, I left the pans I'd scrubbed and the refrigerator with its carefully rationed groceries. Ethan had refused regular cleaning help because he didn't like strangers in the house. I'd cleaned it myself, room after room, including the rooms neither of us ever used.

I didn't wipe the counter before I left the kitchen.

The doorbell rang while I was wheeling my suitcases into the hall.

Vanessa stood outside in a pale pink dress, holding a gift box. She looked past me at the luggage before arranging her face into concern.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I'm packing.”

“Can I come in?”

I stepped aside. She put the box on the coffee table and sat at the edge of the sofa. I'd seen her in photographs wearing that same careful smile beside Ethan.

“It's a scarf,” she said. “I thought you might like it.”

“You didn't have to.”

“I know you must hate me.”

I pulled up the handle on my suitcase. “If you came to watch me cry, I'm afraid the schedule's changed.”

Her smile faltered, then returned.

“You don't have to pretend with me. What happened wasn't fair to you.”

“Which part?”

She blinked.

“The affair,” she said. “Obviously.”

“Right. I thought you meant the $500 a month.”

She glanced toward the front windows. “I don't know about your private finances.”

“Then you're in for an interesting marriage.”

“He takes care of me.”

“I'm aware.”

She waited, giving me room to ask about the jewelry or the trips. I checked the time instead. Maya would be here soon, and I still needed to put the car keys in the kitchen drawer.

“You're acting as if you won something,” Vanessa said.

“I'm getting divorced. It doesn't require a trophy.”

“You can take the money. His heart is with me.”

There it was. The sentence she'd come to say.

I looked at her for a moment. She was waiting for me to understand the scale of my loss.

“I lived with his heart on $500 a month,” I said. “You're welcome to it.”

She stood so quickly her bag slid off her shoulder. This time she didn't bother with the smile.

“You'll regret being so cold.”

“Take the scarf, Vanessa.”

She left it behind.

I carried the unopened box to the trash, then went back for my luggage. I didn't need a keepsake from either of them.

Maya arrived at three and lifted the heavy suitcase before I could reach for it.

“That's everything?”

“Everything I want.”

She looked at the house, then at me. For once, she didn't make a joke.

The apartment smelled faintly of fresh paint. Sunlight reached the living room floor, and the second bedroom was empty except for a closet and a view of the next building's brick wall. I stood in the doorway and imagined two cribs.

Maya put her hand on my back.

“It'll work,” she said.

Before dinner, she transferred $5,000 into my account for the deposit and immediate expenses.

“You can pay me back when the first installment clears. Until then, please buy actual food.”

I stared at the notification. I had been quick and dry and perfectly composed all day. This was what nearly made me cry.

“Maya—”

“It's a loan. I intend to collect. Apparently being around you has made me interested in contracts.”

I hugged her carefully, my face turned against her shoulder.

That night, I lay in a bed Ethan had never used. Someone upstairs dropped something and apologized to someone else. A bus sighed at the corner.

His message arrived just before I put the phone down: The signed agreement has been sent for filing. Let counsel know if you need anything.

I needed the three payments to arrive. Everything else could wait.

I rested a hand low on my stomach. I couldn't feel the babies yet, but I knew they were there.

“We've moved,” I whispered.

For the first time in a long while, I fell asleep without listening for a car in the driveway.