There it is.
I swallow hard, fold the papers, and shove them into my tote bag like I’m hiding contraband.
Then I grab my suitcase and head for the front door.
The lock clicks softly when I turn it. I slip outside like a thief, pulling the door shut behind me with excruciating care.
My car sits in the driveway, dusty from neglect. I toss my suitcase into the trunk, then my tote bag. My hands are shaking so badly I fumble with the keys.
I glance back at the house.
I slide into the driver’s seat, start the engine, and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go pale.
My phone sits in the cup holder. My sister’s unread text thread is still there, silent. My dad’s messages are piling up, unacknowledged. The annulment papers sit in my tote bag like a physical weight.
The idea of seeing Jake again makes my stomach flip, but the entire drive over I tell myself it’s just something I ate that didn’t sit right.
Yeah, sure.
His address leads me into a quiet, expensive neighborhood that smells like trimmed hedges and ambition.
Wide streets. Perfect sidewalks. Houses that look like they belong in architecture magazines instead of real life.
The GPS tells me I’ve arrived, and my stomach drops.
Jake’s house is… beautiful.
It’s modern but warm, clean lines softened by dark wood and oversized windows. The lawn is immaculate. The hedges perfectly trimmed.
Everything about it feels intentional.
Like it belongs to someone who takes care of what’s his.
I grab my tote with the papers inside and step out.
The air is cooler here than at my dad’s place. Or maybe that’s just my nerves.
I walk up the stone path to the front door, trying not to think about the fact that I am about to show up unannounced at the house of the man I drunkenly married and accidentally legally trapped.
Normal Tuesday.
I lift my hand and knock.
Will he even be home?
Footsteps approach almost immediately.
The door swings open.
Jake stands there in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that stretches across his chest like it’s under pressure.
His hair is slightly messy, like he’s run his hands through it too many times.
He looks relaxed for exactly half a second.
Then he sees me.
His entire body goes still.
