Ninety-Nine Necklaces and One Goodbye

Nora's POV

Ask anyone in Westbrook who the richest man in town was, and the first name out of their mouth would be Graham Thorne.

Hardly anyone knew he'd been married for years. Or that his wife was me.

For five years, every time he went off to see his first love, Vivian Hale, another priceless necklace showed up in my jewelry case.

By the time the ninety-ninth one went in, he finally sensed something was off.

I'd stopped waiting up for him in tears. I'd stopped grabbing his sleeve and begging him not to go.

This time, I picked out the most expensive necklace in the city myself and laid the paperwork in front of him to sign.

He signed fast, and for once he actually tried to sweet-talk me. "When I get back, I'll take you on a trip."

I tucked the papers into my bag and said okay.

What he didn't know was that it wasn't a purchase agreement for a necklace.

He'd just signed our divorce papers.

Vivian's return was all over the news.

Graham sat in his office, glued to the TV. When I slid the auction purchase agreement over to him, he didn't even glance down. He just picked up the pen and signed.

That blue diamond necklace was the star lot of this year's fall auction. Plenty of people had kept their paddles up until the very end and still walked away without it. But to Graham, it was no different from me. Neither of us was worth a second look.

He didn't look away until the broadcast moved on to the next story, and he was still smiling.

He pushed the signed papers back to me and spun the pen through his fingers. "That's what, ninety-something necklaces now? You're probably one of the richest people in Westbrook at this point."

He sounded happy. But it wasn't me making him happy. It was the woman who was finally coming home.

"The diamond's the color of the ocean," I said. "I love it."

Graham was the one who fell first.

He'd chased me for a long time. I turned him down again and again, ninety-nine times, and he never backed off. The hundredth time he asked, I finally said yes and married him.

But that kind of passion burns out as fast as it flares up.

The first time Vivian came back to the States, it fell right on our first anniversary.

He'd booked the dinner himself, the table covered in candles and flowers. I sat there until the candles had burned down a good inch. Then he finally walked in, holding a velvet jewelry box.

"Nora, I'm sorry I missed our anniversary." He set the box in front of me. "Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

I could smell a woman's perfume on his collar. I didn't say a word about it.

That was the first time I forgave him.

I made myself a promise that night. He'd asked a hundred times before I agreed to marry him, so I'd give him a hundred chances. No more, no less. That would make us even.

After that, it pretty much became routine.

One call from Vivian, and he'd walk out on me. At first he still bothered making up excuses. Later he didn't even do that. He'd just leave a new jewelry box on the entryway table on his way out.

The second time, the third, all the way up to the ninety-ninth, I put up with it.

Today was the hundredth time. And the last.

The thought actually made me want to laugh, and I did. The weight I'd been carrying for five years suddenly seemed to be gone, and I just looked at him, completely calm.

Graham froze under my stare and turned his head away without thinking.

But right as he turned, I caught a flicker of something in his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was guilt, or if some part of him didn't want to lose me.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he said softly, "Once things calm down, I'll take you on a trip."

Back then, one sweet word like that from him would've kept me happy for days.

I would've grabbed his sleeve and begged him not to leave, begged him to stay with me just for one night. And every single time, he'd look down, pry my fingers off one by one, and say, "Are you out of your mind?"

He was right. I'd been out of my mind ninety-nine times.

But after today, I wouldn't have to be anymore.

At the bottom of that stack of papers he'd just signed was a divorce agreement.

In thirty days, the name Graham Thorne would have nothing to do with me ever again.