Chapter 24 #2
Was this what Smith had been busy with this last day and a half? Had he decided that communication was futile and they were a lost cause after all?
She rubbed at her temples, eyes dry, and her heart a heavy stone in her chest.
She opened the attachment and skimmed through the ten-page document. It was all very cut-and-dried. The prenup had ensured that they were both protected in the event of a divorce. All that remained was the even split of any assets they may have acquired together during the course of their marriage.
Their house, furniture, and cars were to be sold with the profits evenly split between them.
Smith had signed and initialed everything already. All that remained was for Kenny to do the same.
“Oh, Smith,” she whispered, voice as broken as her heart.
She couldn’t fight this any longer.
She gave him what he wanted.
After that, she texted Charity and Miles to cancel the night out, called Caleb, and packed her bags.
The silence at Smith’s cottage had become too noisy.
The echoes of Kenna’s voice and her laughter made it too hard to think there.
Too difficult to figure out what he wanted for Kenna and himself.
So the morning after falling asleep on his couch, he’d fled to the mountain on Thursday, up to his favorite campsite.
After parking the car, he sent Harris the precise coordinates of where he’d be camping. It was something he always did, on the very rare occasions that he went camping by himself. And then he strode toward the peaceful solitude he only ever found in nature.
He walked a few paces farther before swearing mildly and digging out his phone again.
Despite his attempts to convince himself last night that what he and Kenna had wasn’t a relationship that required them to check in with each other, he couldn’t simply go off the grid without giving her some kind of heads-up.
Heading back up the mountain for a few days. Need to think. Talk soon.
He switched the phone off and put it in a protective plastic bag. The phone was useless out here and he would be unreachable soon. The campsite was far enough removed from civilization for telephone signals to not be a factor.
He would finally been able to hear himself think. All the noise and tension and uncertainty would bleed away, until hopefully all that was left was stillness and peace of mind.
By Saturday evening, he found the clarity he needed and he began to recognize that leaving as he’d done was a damned fool thing to do.
He was always so ready to blame Kenna for everything, then he went and did something so fucking colossally stupid and selfish. Even with that half-arsed message he’d sent her, she must feel completely abandoned.
Jesus.
Once that certainty crept in, the peace fled and panic began to set in.
He left first thing the following morning.
Because it had rained overnight, everything was slippery and the hike out was more perilous than usual, which meant that he had to be extra cautious. It added a couple of hours to the walk.
God, she was going to be pissed at him. And he deserved it. He would prostrate himself in abject apology and then they’d talk and he’d share with her what had become so blindingly clear to him up on that mountain.
When he finally reached his car, his phone picked up the closet cell tower signal and began to ping incessantly.
It was raining, so he stowed his gear, removed his slicker and got into the car before he dug out his phone to check his messages.
Tina
Jesus, Smith, what did you do?
What?
That message, sent on Friday night, wasn’t quite what he’d expected to find.
There were more from his sister, all of them irate and accusatory. He ignored those for now, looking for Kenna’s name.
Harris
Had to tell Tina where you are, she’s losing her shit a little. Can’t say I blame her. Just leaving like this is bad form, Smith.
Right.
Kenna’s name was fourth on the list of recently sent texts. He’d expected her name to be at the top. But if she was angry with him, he could understand her giving him the silent treatment.
The last message she’d sent had been on Friday night.
Kenny
Going to MJ’s with Charity and Miles. Live band tonight. Should be good. 7 pm.
She’d kept her end of the deal. Diligently sent him her schedule. There were no updates today and Smith frowned, disquiet skittering down his spine.
Why had she continued sending messages after he’d told her that he would be camping?
His thumbs frantically scrolled back to his last message to her.
Headed back up the mountain for a few days. Need to think. Talk soon.
His blood ran ice cold as panic flared.
It hadn’t fucking sent. Why hadn’t it sent?
The coordinates he’d sent to Smith had gone through. But…
Fuck, he’d walked a few paces down the path before sending this message. He must’ve been in a dead spot.
He needed to get to Kenna right fucking now.
He drove straight to her place, uncaring that he was exhausted and needed a shower. He had to see her and apologize for the inexcusable, staggering lack of consideration he’d shown her by simply leaving without a word.
Her car wasn’t there.
He sat in his Land Rover, arms hooked over the top of the steering wheel and staring at the empty spot where her car would normally be. He bit the inside of his cheek as he considered his next move.
Coming here first had been impulsive. It was probably good she wasn’t here. He could go home, shower, get his head on straight, think about what exactly he was going to say to her—after the apologies, of course.
He was about to have the most important conversation of his life and it would behoove him to be mentally and emotionally prepared for it.
After he got to his place, he checked his phone again. Nothing from Kenna.
He sent her a quick message.
Hey, I’m back. Just needed to clear my head. I’m so sorry, Kenna. You must think I’m such a prick. I didn’t mean to leave without a word. I can explain, okay? Think we can talk? Your place? In about an hour? I’ll bring takeout and wine.
He waited for a while. The message remained unread. Just one little gray check.
He stared at the screen for a long, troubled moment, before setting the phone aside. She was likely out with friends and not checking her messages right now.
He left his phone on charge on the kitchen counter and strode to his bedroom where—fuck—he still hadn’t changed the bedding. He’d simply dropped everything the other day and headed right back to the mountain.
After a long, invigorating shower, he finally stripped and remade the bed. Then checked his phone again.
Still unread. His brows slammed together and he tried calling her instead.
Immediately to voicemail.
Something was very, very wrong.
He stared blindly at his phone screen as he tried beat back the panic swelling in his chest.
He absently noted that there were currently five unread messages in his mailbox and he automatically tapped the icon, expecting a mix of spam and work correspondence. He didn’t like having unread messages and was about to mark it all as read when he noticed the second message down.
From his attorneys. Sent Friday at five-thirty p.m.
Completed Divorce Agreement?
Oh, fuck.
He tapped on the email and read the message from one of his law school buddies, Tom Marshall.
Smith,
Sorry this took so long. McKenna’s attorney had some health issues. He finally got back to us earlier. Everything’s in order. Final, signed document attached for your records. We’ll proceed first thing on Monday.
Have a good weekend.
Tom
He opened the attachment and groaned miserably when he saw that she’d signed and initialed every single page, the lines dated Friday.
He scraped a hand through his hair and tried to slow his breathing and heart rate down.
Oh, God!
Kenna had received this document Friday, after two days of zero communication from him. He’d signed these papers weeks ago. Shortly after arriving in Riversend, long before Kenna had shown up.
Needless to say he’d had a change of heart since then.
But Kenna wouldn’t know that. How could she when he hadn’t told her?
All she knew was that he’d gone quiet, that he’d stopped responding to her messages, and that he’d had his attorneys send this goddamned divorce agreement to her while he was gone.
Jesus.
He tried calling her again, frantic now.
Voicemail.
Kenna, we need to talk. Please. This document…it’s not what you think. Shit, it’s just better if we talk in person. I’m on my way to your place now.
He grabbed his keys, jacket, and phone and dashed out of the cottage.
When he arrived at her place, the car was still missing and he sank down on the porch step, settling down to wait for as long as it took.
It was fully dark two hours later when he finally abandoned his post and drove to Tina and Harris’s house, dread pinballing out of control in his gut.
Harris opened the door, Jamie perched on his hip. “You look like shit, man,” Harris said, stepping aside to let him in.
“Tina home?” Smith asked as he stepped through the door, warily checking every corner of the open-plan area, in case his sister was waiting to pounce.
“In the shower.”
Relieved to not have to deal with his sister immediately, Smith absently picked Flynn up, when the baby took a few halting steps toward him
“Christ, Harris, I think I fucked up,” Smith confessed hoarsely, dropping a quick kiss on his nephew’s soft head.
The babies were in cute matching onesies, dressed for bedtime.
“Only think?” Harris muttered. “Oh, my friend, I can confirm that you one hundred percent fucked up. How could you just leave like that?”
“I needed to clear my head. But while I was gone…” He sank down on the sofa with the happy baby in his arms and told Harris about the divorce agreement.
Harris placed Jamie on a play mat in the middle of the floor and took Flynn from Smith to put him down next to his twin.
“Well, that explains this then,” Harris said, striding to the kitchen and then returned to hand Smith a small, sealed envelope.
Smith stared at it blankly, before taking it from his friend.
He felt the rings through the paper and covered his mouth with his free hand as he stared down at the plain white envelope.
“She dropped it off at MJ’s Friday night. Came to say goodbye and asked us to give that to you.”
“Goodbye?” Smith repeated, lifting his burning, blurry gaze to his friend. “She left?”
“Yeah. Headed straight out from MJ’s. One of Sam’s guys drove her to George airport and she chartered a helicopter to Cape Town.”
Smith buried his face in his hands as the devastating news hit him like a two-ton truck.
She was gone.
And it was his fault.