Page 10 of Trading Up
“A couple of days ago.”
“When do I get to see that on you?” The excitement in his eyes was sick. I knew what that letter was, but clearly, he didn’t care about my well-being enough not to try to make moves on me.
“In about five minutes. I’m getting ready to go out. The boys and I are going to the zoo with the mom group,” I said as casually as I could, hoping he thought it was a lie. I was going to the zoo with the mom group, after I dropped off another trunk full of things off at Row’s apartment. He had helped me find onein his building. It would be ready at the end of the month, and that was the perfect timing.
Jenson was almost done with the divorce papers. We were filing them under infidelity and irreconcilable differences. There were a few accounts that he had been stashing money in to try to hide it from me, most likely to keep forherand their new life together once he got the courage to leave me withnothing.
“The mom group? You’re wearingthatto a mom group outing?” He had the gall to question me, like I was doing something wrong by wearing what I wanted, going out with a bunch of women, and our children.How dare he!
“Yeah. Why?” I gave him a look that said he’d better watch what he said to me because I was ready to blow a top!
“It’s just…well, that’s not exactly something you wear unless you want to show off for someone.” He started rubbing the back of his neck, looking like he was regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. The anger that had momentarily been replaced by glee at his stress and dismay came back with a vengeance.
I scoffed. I couldnotbelieve this man.
Where had the man I married gone? I knew exactly where he was.
“I’m wearing it because I want to feel good about myself. You haven’t touched me in months, and you shoot me down every time I try,” I said with a bite to my tone, before snatching my lingerie and storming into the walk-in closet and slamming the door shut. I locked it before he could follow. Not that I thought he would.
Dead and gone. Buried in some whore’s snatch.
E I G H T: Leaving
Sarah’s POV
Today was the day. I was finally leaving the son of a bitch, and he was getting a singing telegram.
Happy birthday to me!
I could only hope that someone was getting a video of this for me. I wanted to see his, and her, reactions when they got the singing telegram. It wasn’t my fault if they should so happen to get the singing telegram while he was at that incredibly important meeting with the company he was hoping to score a newer, bigger contract with.
We were all packed and ready to leave. There was nothing for us in the house. The papers were straightforward. He would get the house and keep his 401K, while I got custody of the kids. I also maintained control over their IRAs, their trust funds, college funds, and any inheritance they may get. I was more financially responsible than him. At least, according to the bank statements that I found. My lawyer sent the documents to a financial forensic expert to go over them. I was just trying to make sure that I knew where his money was.
All of it.
We, thankfully, had a few months to go over everything while I continued collecting more information as the weeks turned into months. The fruits of our labor? Because I was considering not murdering him while living with him, even if I was pranking him daily, an act of hard labor. It was hard work keeping the murderous thoughts at bay. Like when his mouth was open or when he would try to have sex with me. The fruits of that hard labor produced approximately 1.7 million dollars in multiple accounts, which he had tried to hide from me.
That wouldcertainlygive me the little boost I needed. Jenson and Petey were out for blood. And so was I. We were all fully prepared, papers ready, and I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
“Explosive,” Row thoughtfully said as he laughed, “That man…is going to be so pissed he can’t have his cake and eat it too.”
I loved the way he laughed. Always had. The way he tossed his head back and really lost himself in it. Lately, his smiles have meant more. His kisses on my forehead have meant more. It’s just been wonderful. Everything has started to mean something more since the night I kissed him. When he kissed me back, falling into him, melting together. Until he stopped it.
He was right, though. I wasn’t ready for him. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. But…I was hoping I would be. The legal separation papers had been drawn up. There was a six-month separation period, during which the terms of the divorce could be discussed and agreed on. If there were no disagreements, the divorce could be finalized before the separation period was over. But the catch was, both parties had to agree to it. I knew he wouldn’t want to wait. Not with his mistress getting bigger and bigger by the day. The due date looming.
I walked out the front door for the last time. All of mine and the boys’ belongings were packed and waiting for us in our new apartment that Row had managed to get us in sooner. He promised he’d help us unpack, and we’d go out for dinner and have movie night. He promised to be there to help me with everything.
I believed him.
He’d never broken a promise to me, and I didn’t think he was going to be starting any time soon. Not in the last fifteen years had he failed to follow through on anything he’d promised. He moved heaven and earth, and I didn’t know how I wasjustnowseeing this. I slipped the key back through the mail slot in the door. I was loading the boys into the car with the last of our belongings when the mailman drove up, stopping at the bottom of the driveway.
He smiled at me, packages in hand, along with a box full of mail. He set everything on the front porch. Packages showcasing the latest dildos, anal beads, and lube prominently displayed. There were many ‘samples’ and magazines.
“You were a great beard. Never would have guessed,” the man said in passing, walking back to his mail truck.
“Neither would I. Who guessed he could have been hiding his real self all this time?” I commented before sliding into my driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I knew instinctively that somehow everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to get infinitely better. I just had to keep us moving forward. If I could keep going that way, I knew we’d be okay.
Walking through the door of our new apartment, the boys went running, as I tried to tell them to be careful of the boxes, but looking up after dragging in our bags, my jaw hit the floor. The apartment was completely set up. The kitchen was clean, no boxes anywhere. The dining area was set up, with flowers in a vase in the middle of the table. All of the furniture I’d been buying and putting in the storage unit was set up in the living room. I continued down the hallway. I could hear the boys laughing and playing. I peeked into the room, following their excited screams and squeals, and found bunk beds in two of the three bedrooms, their names on the doors. The boys were playing in the one with the door marked with Carter’s name on it at the end of the hall.
