Page 52 of Letting Go

“She peed again.”

I hang up before I say something inappropriate. Like I love talking to you.

Which I do and have been for a week now. But neither of mentions my word vomit or his… words. We haven’t met face-to-face since that one time, but the way we’ve been talking, feels like he gets me better than anyone else right now.

I’m crouched on the rug again, one hand gripping a wad of paper towels, the other still holding my phone like I might accidentally call Caden back just to hear him say “two dogs?” again and laugh like I’m the most chaotic, fascinating thing in his orbit.

The puppy is curled in my lap now, belly up, completely trusting, while Roxy lies nearby, watching her with this calm, exhausted pride that hits me right in the throat. My little accidental pack.

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until Hannah appears in the hallway, drying her hands on a towel. She squints at me, tilts her head, and raises one of those judgmental eyebrows she thinks is subtle.

“What?” I say, still petting Puppy McNameless.

“You’re smiling,” she says, voice weirdly soft.

“I’m admiring the puppy,” I lie.

Hannah just stares. Doesn’t say a damn thing. Just… stares.

“Fine,” I groan. “I was talking to Caden.”

Her face does that smug light-up thing. “And?”

“And nothing. I’m still technically married, and he’s… he’s going to be my boss.” I gesture vaguely with my phone, like that explains the entire situation.

Hannah shrugs. “So? He likes you.”

I snort. “We don’t know that he likes me.”

She blinks. “Yeah, he does. The man called you ten times yesterday.”

“That was about the press release,” I say quickly, too quickly. “He needed my advice.”

“Oh sure,” she says, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Because the new president of the company has no team. No PR. No common sense. Just… Caden, the CEO, desperate for your insight.”

I glare at her, because it’s true and I hate that it’s true. “The divorce isn’t final,” I say, quieter.

She leans forward a little, palm pressed unconsciously to her invisible baby bump, the gesture so automatic it almost breaks me. “I know you’re a little gun shy,” she says, gently. “But don’t let someone great pass you by just because you’re scared. You deserve to be happy.”

And just like that, I’m gutted.

Because once, this, sitting on a couch with my best friend and a puppy on my lap, was supposed to be the life Mike and I built. I thought by thirty we’d be trying for a baby. I thought we were waiting for stability, for the perfect moment, for that one final promotion.

But somewhere in my bones, I must’ve known. Because every time he brought it up, I’d say “just one more year.” Like I was buying time I didn’t know Ineeded.

“I am still married,” I repeat, a little hollow now.

Hannah doesn’t flinch. “Do you have any intention of taking Mike back?”

“God, no.”

“Then it’s just paperwork.”

And it hits me. She’s right. It’s not a marriage anymore, it’s a file sitting on a lawyer’s desk. A ghost with my name on it.

And Caden? Caden is real. Present. Complicated in a whole different way.

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