Next August
I droppedthe papers on the kitchen table in front of Shay without explanation. She didn’t glance away from her laptop which was not surprising seeing as she was sliding into back-to-school mode. Though she didn’t admit it often, she was nervous about making the move to first grade permanent. “What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a divorce filing.”
She snapped her head up. “Awhat?”
I rested my hands on the back of the chair in front of me. “A divorce filing. Specifically, a filing to dissolve our marriage.”
Shay rested her chin on her upturned fist. Her hair was back to strawberry blonde after letting it fade through the winter and spring. I couldn’t explain why I liked the pale, subtle pink so much but every time I caught sight of it, I thought,There’s my girl.
“And why do you want to dissolve our marriage, husband?”
It didn’t matter how many times that word crossed her lips, it still hit me just as hard as the first time. “You don’t need to be married anymore.” I set another stack of documents on the table. “The title arrived yesterday. You’re the owner of the Thomas Twins Farm now.”
She paged through the documents. A grin pulled at her lips. Her face really was made for smiling. “I see.”
“We don’t need to keep doing this,” I said, “if you don’t want to.”
“Hmm.” She continued reading. “I know it sounds like you’re doing me a favor but I’m also wondering if you’re just itching to get my endless construction project off your books. Wash your hands of all things tulip and curse the day you attempted to bring my whimsical flower world under your reign?”
“If the past eight months have proven anything, it’s that the whimsical flower world belongs to you and I have the privilege of pouring money into it indefinitely.”
I couldn’t call progress on the wedding venue slow. That would imply any amount of progress had occurred, and things hadn’t gotten moving until the middle of May due to Twin Tulip’s proximity to wetlands and new requirements for climatization and efficiency. We were rolling along now but our timeline was all kinds of fucked. We didn’t have a date for a grand opening or a soft launch. We didn’t even have a date for when we could safely assume most of the work would be complete.
It was a lot more than we’d bargained for but the interest was already overwhelming. The website for the Thomas House Gardens crashed the week we launched it. The marketing crew were up to their elbows in media requests and brides begging for bookings. We had to post signs at the turnoff for Twin Tulip announcing that the site wasn’t open to visitors yet.
It was a nightmare but it wasn’t a bad nightmare. Unsettling, maybe. Exhausting.Expensive. But it was the kind of nightmare that would work out for us in the end. If we could ever finish building the damn thing.
Gennie liked to refer to the project as a shitshow with flowers and I didn’t want her to be right about that. She was doing better in school these days. It was still tough and there were times when she fell into her crusty old pirate ways, but she was making good progress in therapy and getting more specialized support for her ADHD. She was finally finding her way and it never stopped amazing me.
She gave field hockey a try this past spring. Who would’ve guessed she’d enjoy wielding a stick and running around in a mask while yelling her ass off? Shocking.
Gennie discovered a second passion in musical theater which also involved running around while yelling. Shay liked to remind me that the yelling was actually singing though I was still attuning myself to the difference. Gennie was a munchkin in the high school’s winter production ofWizard of Ozand then an orphan in a middle school’s spring production ofAnnie. She’d offered to clean the chicken coops indefinitely if it meant she could attend two four-week-long theater day camp sessions this summer. Last month, she was a stray dog inThe Aristocatsand tonight she was playing the role of a lifetime—one of Captain Hook’s pirates inPeter Pan. This was the first time she had lines in addition to singing with the company, and she hadn’t stopped reciting them to herself for weeks. Jaime, Grace, Emme, and Audrey—the unofficial aunties—were driving down from Boston to attend Gennie’s opening night.
“Then you figured this would be a good time to end it?” she asked. “Clean break? The girls can just pick me up and take me home with them?”
I watched as she turned another page and ran her index finger over the words as she read. The strap of her sundress lolled down her shoulder, just begging for me to fix it. Her earrings were in the shape of pickles and they were completely ridiculous. I loved everything about them.
“I want to give you a choice,” I said. “You didn’t really have one the first time around.”
“I had a choice,” she said, her gaze still locked on the documents.
“City hall without any of our friends or family present? If you had it to do all over again, you’d choose that? A twine ring and a high five to seal the deal?”
“I’d include Gennie,” she said. “I liked the ring. You know that.” She gave a single shake of her head as she turned to the next page. “The lunch we had afterward was amazing. I’d do that again.”
“I’ll take you to lunch any time you’d like,” I said. The school year was several weeks away and I already missed having her around during the day. “As I’m sure you’re aware, wife.”
“Bonus points if you wear a suit again. That did some nice things to me. It gave me some feelings.” She pointed a finger toward her lap. “Some spicy feelings.”
“Wearing a suit,” I said, “gave youspicyfeelings.” I was half convinced she was fucking with me. She had to be fucking with me. There was nothing sexy—or spicy—about wearing a suit in the height of the summer heat. “I mean, if that’s what you want, I’ll do it but—”
“Noah.” She folded her hands on the documents and looked up at me, her teacher stare firmly in place. “You could’ve told me to remove your tie with my teeth that day and I would’ve asked you where to put it when I was finished. You are devastating in a suit. Even more than you are in rolled-up sleeves and jeans that make me want to bite your bum.”
I could feel the heat crawling up my neck and into my ears. I pointed at the document. “Decide if I’m divorcing you today. Okay? Thank you. We’ll talk about what you can take off with your teeth later.”
“Will I be doing it later or only talking about it?” She shrugged. “I just want to plan accordingly.”
