Mitch is leaving me?
I sat down on the bed.
But that made no sense. We’d already been down to Florida to look at houses. I’d just talked to him yesterday morning. He certainly hadn’t acted like a man who wanted a divorce.
He was keeping these papers for a friend. That had to be it.
But when I flipped through the forms, I saw handwriting. Mitch’s handwriting.
So neat and so precise as he listed our assets, our entire marriage reduced to numbers.
I put the papers down and pinched my arm, hard.
No, I was awake.
I was sitting in the primary bedroom where we had had sex ... well, some time ago. The room smelled lightly of lavender from the detergent I’d used on the freshly washed sheets. Sunlight shone on the hardwood floors that I’d installed myself over the summer.
For heaven’s sake, we’d almost paid off the house! Dylan had just gone to college! We were entering the empty-nest years, reconnecting and traveling and doing all the things we’d put off while raising our son.
He wanted to end our marriagenow?
It made no sense.
My hand lost its ability to grip, and the folder fell from my grasp. Papers spilled all over the shiny floor.
Instinctively, I slid off the bed to clean up the mess.
Because cleaning up messes was what I did.
I giggled, a nervous, squeaky sound.
Here was a mess I might not be able to manage.
Once I’d gathered all the papers, I slapped the folder shut, stood, and shoved it into my lingerie drawer.
But what was I supposed to do now?
I couldn’t call Mitch, because he was probably on a plane. I couldn’t call my mother for reasons, very good reasons.
Breathe, Vivian.
Nope. I couldn’t breathe in the bedroom. I walked to the kitchen and laid my hands on the cool granite tile. I could almost breathe there, but I still couldn’t think.
Lucky wound between my legs and yowled.
“What do you want?”
She yowled again, clearly not understanding I was going through something, possibly a nervous breakdown. I tried to stare her down, but she just looked up at me with her one green eye. She looked like an off-kilter Cyclops cat.
A Cyclops cat who was judging me.
Be calm, Vivian. There could be a very logical reason for this.
Not that I could think of one.
I gave in to the cat and went back into the hall to feed her. Sure enough, the food bowl was empty. She rewarded me with a purr as she ate, and I reached down to stroke her long, silky fur. She’d never leave me.
Well, not as long as you keep feeding her, she won’t.
