Page 1 of Tapped

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BLACK

Evie

Guilt is an asshole.

It’s wrapped its sweaty fingers around my throat and squeezed every ounce of life from my soul.

I can’t breathe.

Figuratively, that is.

Physically, I’m fine.

I would know. I am a doctor.

I’ve done everything I can to avoid this next chapter of my life I’m about to write. I don’t want this for Chase.

Hell, I don’t want it for me. But Jeff is not the man I married. Not anymore. There are days I look into his eyes and see a stranger.

“What’s for dinner, Mama?”

I look through the rearview mirror at my son. I can’t put this off another moment.

His father will be served with divorce papers today. I asked for a separation months ago, but Jeff wanted none of it. When I talked to my attorney, who’s also my brother, I knew the time had come.

Jeff put on the brakes and isn’t going anywhere willingly.

I have no idea how Chase will respond. Our son is smart. He’s also half-tyrant, half-sweet.

A boy.

A little boy whose father never spends time with him and treats him like a chore rather than a child.

Take out the trash.

Get the oil changed in the car.

Fix the strainer on the pool.

Love your son.

All things my soon to be ex-husband avoids like the plague.

He’d rather be watching a game with friends or fishing on that damn boat he insisted we buy to keep up with the Joneses.

Seriously. I kept my last name because I was in my residency when we married. Also, Litchfield carries a lot of weight in Miami. TheJonesesare nobody compared to my family. The next level up would be Gloria Estefan or Pitbull.

I ignore Chase’s question about dinner, because he can have whatever he wants after the conversation we’re about to have. “Baby, we need to talk about something. Dad won’t be home tonight.”

I glance quickly into the mirror long enough to see Chase’s reaction. He’s not fazed and remains focused on the action figure he’s playing with in his booster seat. “Then can we get chicken nuggets on the way home?”

I look back to the highway which isn’t as busy as normal. Jeff and I should be sharing this conversation with our son. But no. My husband refuses to accept the fact that our marriage has been over for a very long time.

I’m done. I’m out of choices. It’s all on me.

I clear my throat. “What I mean is your dad is moving out. From now on, he’ll live somewhere else and have his own house.”

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