I looked at Jake. “Is that the way it is? Her terms, or nothing?”
He looked at the floor. He couldn’t even manage a whisper of dissent.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a heavy manila envelope. Lorraine snatched it, thinking it was a letter of apology. She tore it open, her eyes scanning the first page before her face went from pale to a livid, blotchy red.
THE DEED AND THE DEPARTURE
“Divorce? You’re serving him papers in my house?” Lorraine screamed, tossing the documents onto the coffee table.
Jake picked them up, sinking into a chair as the legal reality hit him. “You’re really doing this? Over a week in a motel?”
“No, Jake,” I said, standing tall in the center of the room I had decorated, cleaned, and loved. “I’m doing this because for a week, I saw exactly where I fit in your life. You chose a motel for me so you wouldn’t have to stand up to her. You might think I belong behind a gas station, but I know I belong somewhere where I’m the only woman who matters.”
