She finally meets my gaze. Her voice is soft, but steady. “Wepicked it out. And I don’t want it.”
“I’ll pay to have it moved. You’ll have enough to hire movers either way.”
“It’s not about that, Jensen.”
I nod. “Then what’s it about?”
She swallows, eyes locked on mine. She doesn’t answer right away.
“I don’t want reminders,” she says at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of us.” Her gaze drops to the table. “It’s too hard.”
My throat locks, but I hold it together. “Well then… at least sell it. Don’t short?—”
“Jensen.” She looks up, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Just keep it, okay? Please.”
“Okay.” It’s all I can manage, not because I agree, but because I’ll lose it if I try to say anything else.
“Well, it sounds like we’ve come to an agreement,” the mediator says, glancing between us like it’s just business. “Let’s review the listed assets to ensure we’re all on the same page before proceeding.”
Her lawyer slides a printed packet across the table. “We’ve itemized everything—bank accounts, home furnishings, vehicle equity, retirement and investment accounts.”
“We’ve cross-referenced with our own copy,” Keith replies. “I believe we’re aligned on most of the valuations.”
I nod along as they start going through the accounts—the stocks, the retirement breakdown. But something about hearing it out loud makes my stomach turn. It’s like watching someone list off the contents of your life at an estate sale—only I’m still alive.
Panic sets in, a cold sweat rushing through me.Fuck.They’re not just talking about dividing furniture. They’re dividing us. This is happening.
I told Keith to do whatever it takes to avoid signing today. I don’t know what he has up his sleeve, but this very much feels like we’re headed straight for pen and paper. The nausea crawling up my throat is anything but calming.
I swallow hard, my hands tightening in my lap. It takes everything in me not to walk around this table and remind her—beg her—to come home with me. Watch football with me. Just hang out.Talk to me.
“Could we—” I interrupt, glancing at our lawyers, then back to Alley. “Could we have a few minutes alone?” I ask them, butI’m only looking at her. “Just you and me. Please.” My voice cracks on the last word, and it’s pathetic.
“Jensen,” she says softly.
“That’s up to Ms. Adams,” her lawyer says.
“Please, babe. Please.” I hold her gaze with the desperation of a man heading off to war.
She holds it, her eyes glistening.
Her attention suddenly shifts to her watch, brows pinching. Then she’s digging through her purse. “I’m so sorry,” she says, pulling out her phone. “I need to take this call. It’s important.” She stands, already heading for the door as she answers. “Hey. What’s going on?”
The door closes behind her, leaving me in the thick, awkward silence of my insufferable desperation.
“This is going reasonably well,” the mediator says, his voice slicing through the tension.
No, actually. It’s not going well. At least not for me.Jesus.
Alley’s lawyer shuffles some papers, and Keith turns toward me. “How you holding up? You okay?”
I let out a slow breath. “What does that word even mean right now?” I rub my hands over my face, pressing my fingers into my forehead. “This is happening, isn’t it? I’m going to walk out of here divorced.”
He takes a beat before answering. “That’s a very probable outcome.” Then he leans in, lowering his voice. “Don’t panic. I said I’d stall.” He leans back again, giving me a firm nod—subtle, steady, like he’s still got this under control.
The door opens, and Alley steps back in, moving quickly toward her purse.
“I’m sorry. I have a family emergency. I have to go.”
