Page 70 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

“No.” I fold my arms across my chest and tuck my hands into my side. There’s no fucking way I’ll sign them. I promised her I wouldn’t let go. I told her I would never sign them. She’s not seeing clearly. She’s scared, and she needs me to be strong, so I’ll hold on with both hands until she can see past her fears and the events of today. “You’ll change your mind. You’ll realize you’re being dramatic. We’ll—”

“I’m leaving,” she says. “Let me go.”

“I don’t—”

“I’m going to have my attorney contact you anyway.” Her wide gaze is trained on me. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. Her voice is flat. “It’s easier if you sign. Less costly. Less painful for both of us. Quicker. If you sign no one else has to die.”

“That’s not what happened. It’s not the curse. That’s bullshit, Beck,” I try to reason with her. “This isn’t because we’re together. You don’t have to do this.”

“Stop being so stubborn,” she says. “There’s no point. I’m going to go through with this whether you sign or not.”

“That’s what you really want?” I’m rocked on my feet. There’s an earthquake in my soul. Shock. Pain will come later. Engulf me. I can feel it through the numbness that wraps itself around me. “You want to give up on us?”

“I want—” she pushes the papers at my chest “—to go back to how things were before I met you.”

Fuck it. I can’t win. Not this time. Hell, I’ve never come out on top, have I? Even when I thought I was on top of the world, it was all a rouse, and it all came crashing down, didn’t it? Just like this. She’s right, we were doomed from the beginning. I snatch the papers from her and march past her to the kitchen counter. Lay them down and locate a pen. Barely breathe as I scrawl my name on them. She warned me when we started this that she could take everything from me. I just didn’t know the only thing she could take that would matter was her. Can’t look at her as I drop the pen on top of the forms and stalk into the bedroom to pick up Hollander.

I can’t be here while she packs. Can’t stand to watch her leave. I wrap the cat in the blanket and carry him out of the cabin. Grab a shovel from the shed. Take him down to the orange grove. He’s spent so much time surveying the valley. He’ll be happy here. Lying him down under one of the trees I drive the shovel into the dirt. Don’t know how I’m going to get through this.

So maybe she was right after all.

Maybe we were cursed from the beginning.

Because there’s no surviving Beck McClain.

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