Chapter 2

The next morning, Blaine took Nico to Seattle for a conference.

Just before he left, he held out his tablet to me.

"The board dinner was moved to Saturday. Push back my Monday morning meeting."

I did not take it.

At last, Blaine looked up from his phone.

"What's wrong?"

For seven years, I had managed his schedule, medication, gifts, and bills, along with every one of Nico's parent-teacher conferences.

Blaine had grown so accustomed to handing me a sentence and watching his life rearrange itself around him.

"Ask your assistant to handle it," I said.

He studied me for a few seconds, probably trying to decide how long this particular mood would last.

"Suit yourself."

He pulled the tablet back, his voice turning cold.

Nico came running downstairs with his backpack. He did not look at me. He was still sulking about the night before.

I zipped his coat and handed him the small bag containing his emergency medication.

"Your inhaler and spacer are in the right-side compartment. The hotel has feather pillows, and you can't use those. If your chest starts to feel tight, tell Daddy immediately."

"I know," he muttered.

I wanted to hug him. My arms started to rise, then slowly fell back to my sides.

Blaine opened the door.

"We'll be back Sunday night. Don't wait up."

I watched his retreating back.

"Who else is going on this trip?"

"The project team."

He answered too quickly and did not turn around.

A black sedan pulled up a few minutes later. Blaine helped Nico inside, then ducked into the back seat. Before the door closed, I caught sight of a beige cashmere coat at the other end of the seat.

Fiona turned and smiled at Blaine.

So the so-called project team was just her.

I remained at the window after the car disappeared through the gates. There was no sharp, crushing pain in my chest like I had expected. Only a cold sensation, sinking slowly through me.

Fiona was sitting in the place that should have been mine.

She knew which toys Nico liked. She took him out for the food he wanted. She even accompanied my husband on weekend trips I had never been invited to join.

And I stayed behind in that house, packing their bags, preparing their medication, and listening to Blaine warn me not to make things ugly.

My phone chimed. Marshall had sent the divorce papers for my approval.

I closed the curtains and went into the study.

"You're waiving the property, the trust, and Blaine's post-marital shares?" Marshall asked again over the phone. "Meredith, you're entitled to more."

"I don't want anything that belongs to him."

"What about the eighty-five thousand dollars?"

"That was the bonus from my first major project, before I married him. I brought it into this marriage, and it's all I'll take when I leave."

Marshall paused.

"All three algorithm patents are still registered to Meredith Larkin. You allowed Carrick Group to use them without royalties, but you never signed a permanent assignment. What do you want to do with them?"

I looked toward the highest shelf. My handwritten structural calculations from college were still there, the paper yellow with age.

Before I met Blaine, I had been the youngest structural engineer at my research institute. Those three algorithms earned me industry awards. They also gave Carrick Group, then struggling to expand, its first chance to compete for major urban projects.

Blaine told me we were partners.

So I never charged his company a cent in licensing fees.

After Nico was born, Blaine said our child needed stability and his company needed someone to keep the family together. I resigned, gave up my partnership, and removed my name from one project report after another.

For seven years, I organized countless contracts for Blaine, yet never kept one for myself.

Fortunately, I had completed those patents before I fell in love with him.

"File for an injunction," I said. "Until the formal hearing, he can't transfer the patents or fold them into the Seattle project."

"Understood. What about Nico?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"Blaine has taken him out of state. Apply for a temporary parenting order. When they return, I'll pick him up."

After the call, I phoned Teresa, the housekeeper.

"Please keep an eye on Nico when they return on Sunday. I've emailed you his medication list. If he has trouble breathing at night, follow the instructions first, then call both me and his pediatrician immediately."

Teresa was silent for a moment.

"Mrs. Carrick, are you not coming home?"

I looked at the ring on the desk.

"I won't be living there anymore. But if Nico needs me, call me anytime."

That afternoon, I dialed another number I had not called in five years.

"Winslow Engineering."

When I heard Warren's voice, I could not speak at first.

He recognized me anyway.

"Meredith Larkin?"

"It's me."

"I thought you would never call me again."

There was no mockery in his voice, only disappointment he could not hide. Somehow, that hurt more.

"I want to come back to work."

"You've been out of the industry too long."

"I know."

"I can't simply hand your old project lead position back to you. The drafting team downstairs is short-staffed. The work is basic review. Are you willing to start there?"

Five years ago, I might have considered that an insult.

Now I was only afraid I had lost the right to start over at all.

"I am."

"Monday morning at eight. Don't be late."

I put away my phone and pulled an old navy canvas suitcase from the storage room. It was the same one I had carried into this house, its corners now worn pale.

Three pairs of jeans. A few sweaters. Work shoes. My engineering books beneath a layer of dust.

Seven years of marriage filled only half a suitcase.

The divorce papers emerged from the printer one page at a time.

On the last page, I signed the name I had used before my marriage.

Meredith Larkin.

Then I placed my wedding ring and the papers in a manila envelope and left it on the keyboard in the center of Blaine's desk.

Turning on his computer was the first thing he did when he came home. He could not miss it there.

At least, that was what I believed.

I pulled my suitcase through the foyer. When I passed the long dining table, I did not look back.

When I entered that house, I gave up my last name, my career, and my identity.

When the door closed behind me, I knew I had begun to take them all back.