Page 123 of Method for Matrimony

Though I did drag my feet walking from the letterbox back inside. And I already moved pretty slow these days.

Kip called my walk a ‘waddle’ once and once only.

Though he was nowhere near stupid enough nor brave enough to utter the word again, it was becoming very clear that I was indeed waddling instead of walking these days. And I still had over a month left.

Not that I was complaining. Every new ailment, every foot in my ribs or my bladder, was just another reminder that this was happening.

The baby was happening, at least.

It remained to be seen what was going to happen with Kip and me.

“I know you’ve been all about sugar these days,” Kip called as I walked in the door, “but I figured Nora had that covered. And I also remembered that I hadn’t made these in a while.”

I got into the kitchen just as he was taking the tray out of the oven. The whole place smelled of beef and pastry, and despite the swirl in my stomach, my mouth watered. It seemed nothing could quell my hunger these days, not even the impending breakdown of my marriage.

Could a marriage really break down if it was never real in the first place?

“Here it is.” I tapped the envelope, wishing I could delay relaying this information and enjoy a pie first. “Your ticket out of this marriage and this situation.”

Kip frowned downward, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before reading the letter. He froze pretty quickly, not saying anything.

My heart dropped.

Why had I hoped for anything different?

“It’s done,” I said, forcing my voice to sound even. “Of course, it’ll look really shady if we file straight away, so we’ll have to separate for a while, spin some bullshit about space and working on things or conscious uncoupling or whatever the fuck the kids are calling it these days.”

Man, I really wanted a fucking drink.

One more month.

I’d pound tequila in the goddamn delivery room.

“After an appropriate amount of time, we’ll divorce,” I continued. “I don’t quite know what your future plans are, but I’d be happy to pay you on a monthly basis in order to eventually buy this place from you.” I looked around at the only home I’d ever had. The place I wanted to raise my daughter in.

“Although that’ll probably take me about fifty years,” I scoffed, thinking about what Kip must’ve paid for a seaside cottage in Maine in this market.

My hand went to my stomach, and I still didn’t look at Kip. There was no way I had the courage for that.

“I don’t know your plans for the baby now that you seem to have…” I wanted to say ‘come to your senses,’ but that seemed a little bitter. “Had a change of heart,” I said finally, staring at the wild ocean out the windows. “I would never keep her from you. You could see her whenever you want… if that’s what you want.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I didn’t say anything else. I just stood in the middle of my kitchen staring at the waves and smelling the pies that Kip made me on the first day of our marriage and what could quite possibly be the last day of our marriage.

How fucking ironic.

He didn’t speak right away.

Which, of course, sent me spiraling. I gripped the counter to steady myself lest I fucking faint or something equally pathetic. If he was going to leave me—leave us—I was going to stay standing when he did.

Kip’s footfalls were soft against the floor. I held my breath, waiting for them to retreat. Except they didn’t. He didn’t. His heat hit my back, and then his hand was on my hip, gently turning me around. I stared at his chest, still unwilling or unable to meet his eyes.

My heart was in my throat.

He grasped my chin in order to tilt it upward, to force my gaze to meet his.

I braced myself for the emptiness, the mask he wore in order to dole out cruelty he thought was mercy. But it wasn’t there. His eyes were like that ocean I had just been gazing at. Wild, full, fucking beautiful.

“My wife… my first wife… I loved her,” he said in a tone I’d never heard before. It was soft, tortured, regretful. He hadn’t even had that tone the night of the storm. It speared me right in the fucking heart.

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