Relief spreads over her face. “That’s great. Nic and I were talking more about it, and I think we’ll want it as long as he owns that house, you know? Just in case.”
“He’s a dick,” Nicole adds. “And he’s always hated Mr. Beans.”
“Our porch cat,” Heidi explains. “He doesn’t like to come inside.”
Ben nods, looking grave. “We can have a car park in front at night if you want. Couple of guys to keep an eye out for Mr. Beans.”
Heidi laughs. “I think cat bodyguards might be over the line. Richard’s a businessman, not a cartel boss.”
Ben makes eye contact with me over the top of her head. He’s definitely going to have a car out front.
I have never loved my brothers more.
Chapter 30
Julia
This is really happening. I’m really going to leave Richard.
I haven’t even had the talk with him yet, and I already feel so free. He’s due home late tonight, and I’m not scrambling to make the house look a certain way. I’m not fixing him a Thanksgiving plate to put in the fridge. I’m not worried about the kitchen smelling like kimchi or whether my shoes are all lined up perfectly in the entryway closet, because none of my stuff is here, anyway. It’sall in storage, barring the few things I moved over to Heidi and Nicole’s.
I’m glad I don’t have to worry about pleasing him anymore, but I’m sad, too.
I know Richard will kick me out of the house the second I tell him I’m leaving, and he’s allowed to do it. That’s in our prenup because the house is part of his family trust. I have a copy of it on the dining room table, along with a set of dissolution-of-marriage forms that I printed off the state website and already partially filled out.
While I wait for his plane to land, I walk around the house, saying goodbye. Goodbye to the stairs that my girls walked down when their prom dates arrived. Goodbye to the bar in the kitchen where they ate breakfast every morning and the hearth where they built their LEGO masterpieces. Goodbye to their rooms where they’ll probably never sleep again. Goodbye to the bathroom tile I picked out. Goodbye to the awesome closet organizer I designed. Goodbye to the wedding ring that I twist off my finger and leave in the dish by the sink.
“Is he there yet?” Ian texts from his family’s gathering at his folks’ house across town. I ate over at Heidi and Nicole’s earlier. This is usually one of my favorite holidays, although I could barely choke down a few bites.
“Not yet. His plane lands soon, though.”
“Tell me when he gets there. Do you have your button?”
I hit the thumbs-up emoji even though the emergency button is in my purse with my keys. Ian’s worried about Richard’s reaction, but I know my husband. He doesn’t blow up at people. He ices them out. But that’s hardly punishment, given how cold he’s been to me for years.
I didn’t even knowhowcold until Ian brought his warmth into my life. I smile in spite of myself at the memory of sleeping in his arms. Waking up with my face in his furry mane. I’m a cuddler. I’ve always been a cuddler. I’ve beenstarving for cuddles, and somehow I convinced myself that it was silly to crave them.
But it’s not silly. It’s normal towantto touch your husband. I hate that my daughters grew up in a household where they didn’t see that kind of casual affection. When they find partners, I hope they don’t follow my example. I want them to be loved in all the ways they need.
I haven’t told them about the split yet. I waited so Richard and I could talk to them together as a united front, like we always have. I hope they aren’t too angry with me for not being able to stick it out. That’s what is twisting my stomach up right now, even more than the pregnancy nausea did.
I don’t have time to dwell too much on it, though, because I hear a vehicle pull into the driveway and the low timbre of male voices as Richard gets out and exchanges niceties with the driver from his car service.
I wait at the table with the paperwork in front of me, knees pressed together, hands resting on them. I can play the cool beauty, the wife he expects, for five more minutes.
I hear him enter, stow his coat and shoes. I listen as he rolls his suitcase to the master bedroom, where he unpacks, hanging his suits and slotting his shoes into the rack. Will he get ready for bed now, or will he come find me?
“Are you all right?” Ian’s text buzzes the phone on the table, startling me.
“Fine,” I reply with numb fingers. “He’s here.”
“Julia!” Richard barks, striding into the dining room. “There you are. Why is the picture of the flower gone from the hall?”
“You never liked it, so I took it down.” In fact, he’d complained when I hung it up, calling it unsophisticated. Samantha painted it for me for my birthday when she was in sixth grade. I moved it to storage with a lot of other sentimental things, the only things I really own. All the furniture will stay with the house.
“Well, you left a hole in the wall.”
Right, a hole. A miniscule nail hole from the picture hook.
