Page 5 of Just My Ex

The senior officer sighs. “This is a family squabble. He hasn’t made any credible threats. It seems from the note that he’s trying to apologize. Now you can go down to the station tomorrow and start the process of filing a protective order, but until he makes a credible threat or causes damage to your property, I doubt they’ll grant you the order. There’s not much we can do.”

“He broke into my house!” I sniff out a laugh laced with sarcasm. “Okay that makes a lot of sense.” I fold my arms. “And just so you know, he did threaten me. At the will reading, he was angry and told me if I didn’t declaim the money and give it to him, he’d make sure I’d regret it.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” The younger officer—his last name might be Dennis–eyes me carefully, like I’ve just made this up.

“Do you have any witnesses to this conversation?” Ward asks.

My heart sinks.

No. No I do not. Raymond made sure of that. He waited until I was getting into my car. And I was so shocked that my grandfather had given me everything that I may or may not have mumbled something about giving the money to him, a half-uttered thought he’s clung to ever since.

I shake my head and stare at them.

Their gaze falters first.

“Did you contact the police about his threat?” Dennis asks.

Again, no. “You’d be able to pull it up and see it if I had.” Now my voice sounds tired even to my own ears. “That was months ago, back when I didn’t think he’d actually do anything. But now that hehasdone several things to intimidate me, I feel unsafe. And I’m concerned for my daughter’s safety.”

“I wish we could do something to help.” Officer Dennis moves to leave. “I’m sorry. But please let us know if it happens again. Hopefully this note means he’ll leave you alone now.” His smile is cheery.

Officer Ward agrees. “Yeah, I’d say this is a positive.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. A positive? It’s positively alarming, that’s what it is.

“Okay. Well. Thanks?” I say as I open the door. My gaze skitters around the perimeter before I open it all the way.

See? Maybe being married to Henry, with his high-level, courageous security background, was a good thing.

He taught me to be cautious. On the lookout. It hurt when he chose his work over Navie and me, but maybe something good has come of it.

“Be sure to lock up,” Office Ward says, offering an arrogant nod.

Be sure to lock up?Does he think I’m five?

I get ready for bed, checking on Navie twice, fast asleep in her transitional bed.

Navie had been excited to tell Henry she was sleeping in a big-girl bed, and he was excited for her. There’s been a difference in him ever since he came, in a panic, worried about Raymond’s hostilities in the will reading.

He started texting me every night, asking me to tell Navie “Goodnight” and that he loves her. And he video chats with her several times a week now. Even the stuff he mails to her has gotten better, not so generic, like he knows her better now and understands what she needs and likes.

Sometimes, there’s a dull ache I can’t get rid of. I thought I’d been doing better, but seeing him again six months ago?

I somehow arrived at work late every day for the next week. Every day, like an amateur. I’m never late for work. But my head was fuzzy, and it was maddening.

So, see? I can’t go running off to the Tate’s luxury resort in Colorado again because there’s a chance I could see him there.

My nightly routine of starting a load of laundry, washing my face, and journaling is glorious in its complexity. There’s a cream or a serum for every problem area imaginable. I even file my nails to take up some time because I haven’t totally gotten used to sleeping alone yet. But hey! My skin’s never been this pampered before.

Once in my bed, I toss and turn, vacillating between thoughts of Raymond and of the officers who refused to help. How many stories do you hear about women who try to report that they’re being harassed, and no one pays any attention and then they end up on the news murdered?

Yeah. Lots. Right?

Raymond’s not going to murder us—I don’t think—but still.

It’s around one a.m. when, unable to sleep, I get up to check on Navie. She’s fine. Snug as a bug in a rug. Dandy. I go back to bed and must doze off, because it’s two a.m. when I open my eyes again. My thoughts flash to Navie. If Raymond can get into my house with no signs of forced entry … I spring out of bed to check on her.

Still fast asleep, the soft swell of her cheek is pressed against the pillow. My beautiful baby.

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