Page 4 of Any Second Now
Of course, we should act like this never happened.
It’s not like I’m a relationship guy.
CHAPTER 1
Would Swearing Help?
RALEIGH
Friday, June 13
Iquestion a lot of my life decisions on a regular basis—like why I agreed to get married not once, but twice before the age of thirty—but I don’t question my urge to punch my ex-husband.
“Here’s the thing, Raleigh.” Jacob stands on the front step of the house we once shared and mostly blocks the path to my escape vehicle as he runs his hands through his wavy blond hair. The look on his face is so serious, so earnest. “My therapist finally made me understand something about myself.”
“I gotta get to work.” I clench my teeth and try not to roll my eyes. I also would like to punch his therapist, for no reason other than he probably encouraged Jacob to come talk to me about whatever revelation he’s about to share.
I really should’ve gone no-contact after the divorce.
Jacob’s always texting me. Emailing me. Showing up at the house—the one I haven’t gotten around to putting on the market, the one he still has a key to—to explain his latest breakthroughs or thoughts on our failed marriage.
Jacob steps aside and I trot down the two cement steps, hoping he doesn’t follow me to my car.
“I’m a compulsive liar.” He follows me. “Always have been.”
I screech to a stop halfway down the sidewalk and spin back to him. He startles and stops right before running into me.
“Well, yeah, obviously.” I throw my hands in the air. “Did you not know that? You lied about your investments, your previous gambling problem, and your entire past.” I tick each one off on my fingers. “So what else have you lied about?”
Jacob stares at me, wide-eyed, so I turn back and take the last few steps to my car. He’s handsome and charming, but such an idiot.
He gave me all of our joint assets in the divorce, even though he was unemployed at the time.
The house and everything in it.
Joint savings account.
Joint checking account.
What was left of them, anyway.
I took it and reminded him divorce is forever. That’s the whole point. But he was—is—so convinced we’re going to get back together. We’re not. I’m sure of it. But he’s convinced he can wear me down.
A few weeks after the divorce was final, Jacob came to me asking for money. I knew he’d be broke. He’s never been a career-driven person and can’t seem to manage to hold down a job for more than a year.
And I couldn’t help feel guilty for taking everything from him. I feel responsible. He was my husband, and sometimes I feel like I abandoned him instead of sticking with him through his problems.
So now I send Jacob money once a month to help with his bills. My mother is horrified. And my friends. Maybe I am, too.
“That’s it! I swear! It was worse when I was younger, but marrying you was the best thing I ever did?—”
“Divorcing you was the best thingIever did,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?”
I freeze with a hand on my car door and turn to him. This can’t go on. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed and I don’t want to care about what anyone else wants anymore.
“You can’t keep showing up here.” There’s a pain in my chest.
