Chapter 4

Gordon snapped, "You're not mad? Then what's all this about? Seriously, just because I didn't take you to the hospital, you're making it a big deal? Our home was literally flooding—can't you tell what's more important?"

Cassidy's eyes welled up with fake tears, putting on a pitiful act as she looked at me. "Jenna, I know I got it wrong. I thought the pipes burst and freaked out, so I called Gordon back.

"But I was trying to keep our home safe. You don't have to take it out on Gordon. If you've got a problem, give it to me instead."

As soon as Cassidy finished, Gordon's temper went nuclear—like someone had poured gasoline straight into his rage.

He grabbed my arm roughly, pointed at Cassidy, and yelled at me. "Jenna, look at her. Why can't you learn to be understanding like she is?"

They were totally working together, trying to stick the label of "irrational troublemaker" right on me.

Once upon a time, I would have argued with Gordon all night long. But now, all I felt was exhaustion.

I jerked my arm free, tossed the takeout container I had scraped clean into the trash, and headed straight to my room.

I flopped onto the bed, letting the warmth from the electric blanket seep into my belly. The pain eased up a little, and I was drifting off when I felt someone pull back the covers.

I forced my eyes open. "What are you doing here?"

Gordon had moved into the guest room six months ago, claiming he was too busy with work and didn't want to disturb me.

He looked down at me, wearing that smug, self-righteous look on his face.

"You look like hell today, so I get why you're pissed. Come here, let me hold you while you sleep," he said, opening his arms like he expected me to fall into them.

Just looking at his pose made my skin crawl. I couldn't stop imagining how many times those same arms had wrapped around Cassidy, probably way more than they had ever held me.

I turned away from him, my back stiff, and replied in a frosty voice, "I'm tired. Just sleep."

After that, I shut my eyes and didn't wake up till the sun was up.

By the time I opened my eyes, Gordon had disappeared from my side of the bed.

I threw off the covers and got up. As I passed the guest room, I caught a glimpse through the half-open door. Cassidy was nestled in Gordon's arms, laughing and chatting.

I didn't feel a thing. I just turned around, went back to my room, and grabbed the suitcase I had packed. Then I left the divorce papers on the table and walked out the door.

On my way to the airport, Cassidy sent me a bunch of photos of her and Gordon looking all lovey-dovey on Facebook, each one posted with a taunting caption.

In the past, I probably would have been shaking with rage. But now, I just gave a faint smile.

I texted her: [If you want him so badly, he's all yours.]

Then I sent Gordon a message: [The divorce papers are in the master bedroom. Goodbye.]

I had booked two flights—one out of the country and one heading south.

Without a second thought, I boarded the plane heading south.

Once the plane took off, I closed my eyes.

Years with Gordon played through my mind in fragments, like a montage flickering by.

There were sweet times and gentle warmth, but in the end, it all rotted into something so ugly I couldn't even bear to look at it.

Gordon's feelings were always so vague—divided up between Cassidy and me, never truly belonging to either of us.

Gordon believed that as long as he kept the scales balanced, Cassidy and I would play nice, and we'd both love him like nothing was wrong.

Too bad for him, I once had the best love there was.

I wasn't interested in the scraps of affection he tossed my way like charity.

The plane landed, and my best friend, Leslie Henry, was there to pick me up.

She looked me up and down, her eyes filled with genuine sympathy.

Leslie said, "Just because you're getting a divorce, why did you have to get rid of the baby? We could have raised the kid together."

I managed a smile, the first genuine one in days. "I just couldn't stand having to hear him ask me one day, 'Where's my dad?'

"So, since I've made up my mind to leave, I'm not going to drag this out."

Leslie gently patted my shoulder, sighed, and then dragged me straight back to her place.

As soon as we walked in, she bundled me up in her comforter and brought over a steaming bowl of oat milk fruit simmer.

"Your recovery is super important, okay? Stay here with me for a few more days and only think about leaving the country after you've rested up," Leslie said warmly.

After days of feeling totally numb, her words broke through my defenses, and tears finally started rolling down my cheeks.

I looked at her and managed a crooked little smile. "Thanks, Leslie."

She just waved it off.

It felt like every sad moment I had been through was lifted away, scattered by Leslie's presence.