Chapter 27
M y stomach twisted as I pushed my key into the familiar lock. I'd done this routine many times over the past three and a half years. But this time, it would be one of my last.
I opened the front door of my soon-to-be former home and stepped inside. I loved this house. Of course, it wasn't our forever home since it was rented and only had two bedrooms—three if you counted the tiny box room Drew and I had shared as a home office. But it had been a nice starter house. A place we would eventually move out of once we bought our first home. Our forever home.
I’d fantasized often about what our dream home would look like—a four-bedroom two-story with a large garden. We’d also have a study, laundry room, open plan kitchen, and lounge where we would entertain our friends and family. A big dining table to fit the kids I'd envisioned.
In a way, I was thankful we hadn't reached that point yet. The thought of selling a hypothetical home I would’ve become emotionally attached to felt daunting enough, let alone the emotional toll of our impending divorce.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I had to swallow back the lump of grief that formed. I walked down the hallway, taking my time, imprinting each curve and panel into my mind. There were subtle changes around the home, little tells that told me the house was winding down to be moved out of—-that Drew was also leaving and not renewing the lease.
Some changes hurt my heart, reminding me why I was here. The hallway table, the big hallway mirror, and the bowl where we placed our keys were all gone. It was really happening—the end of an era.
"Hey."
I jumped when I entered our kitchen and spotted Drew standing there. At the exact spot where our marriage had ended. I hadn't seen him since that afternoon, and I'd been trying hard not to think of him. I knew eventually we would see each other again and talk face-to-face. We still had to communicate about bigger things like our sectional couch, bed, and other assets.
And then there was our divorce.
I was unprepared to see him now, though, especially since I'd texted him yesterday morning to let him know I’d be swinging by to pick up a few things. I had no idea if he was staying here or not, but since things between us were left very strained, I figured he would have made himself scarce.
"Uh, hi. I didn't know you would be here."
He gave me a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. His dark hair had been cut since I'd last seen him, but other than that, there were no other notable physical changes. Unlike me. It hurt to see him again, and I knew it would always hurt me in some way to think of him, even years down the line.
My love for him hadn't waned despite everything. A part of me couldn't blame him for lashing out the last time we stood in this room. He was hurt. I was hurt. There were no winners here. Even my precious bean was entering into a world where their Mama was full of uncertainty and worry. They should've been getting two parents who loved each other deeply, who held no secrets, and—more importantly— wanted to be a parent.
"Yeah," he shrugged. "I've been staying here on and off. Mainly off."
I nodded in understanding. When Drew asked for a separation, and I kicked him out in response, I’d regretted it. I wished I’d left the marital home instead of him. I couldn't bear to sleep in the same bed where we’d made happy memories. I couldn't bear to eat at the same table we’d feasted and made love on.
And then there were the painful memories. Staring at Drew's back or his empty bedside while I cried quiet tears. The strained silences and lonely meals I was forced to have while he claimed he had to work late or he was out with his co-workers. Or her.
"Okay. Well. I'm gonna grab some of my stuff."
I climbed the stairs and heard his footsteps behind me. I had no idea why he was following me up, but some part of me didn't want to turn him away. It was equally comforting and awkward to be near him right now.
I opened up our hallway cupboard and went to pull out a suitcase. Drew surged ahead of me, his arm brushing mine. "Here, let me get that for you."
I stood back as he wheeled out one of our shared luggages, and I briefly wondered if we would be that couple that fought for everything in the divorce, right down to the bedside lamps. "Thank you," I simply said. So polite and civil.
He went ahead of me into our former bedroom and placed the luggage on our bed. He turned and gave me a sad smile, standing back to give me space.
I blinked back tears at the gesture, unable to speak. I never let Drew put his bags on the bed to pack. Bags had gone through airport floors, baggage carousels, and other germ-infested places. Like shoes, bags didn't belong on the bed. Drew had been well-trained in this habit, so when he put my bag on the bed, I knew he did it because he didn't want me bending down to pack like I usually would.
This was what I'd envisioned happening if Drew and I were expecting a child. I knew he would wrap me in cotton wool, fetch things for me, bend down to pick things up, take the grunt of the housework, carry groceries, indulge my weird cravings.
"How are you, Frankie?" he asked as I stood there staring at my open bag.
"Hmm?" I turned my head, catching his narrowed gaze on my stomach. His shrewd eyes quickly shifted away, his jaw pulsing.
I was comfortably into my second trimester but wasn't really showing yet unless I was naked. I was bloated as fuck, though. Every time I tried to suck my stomach in, it tightened in reaction, refusing to let my muscles move. I wasn't at the point yet where I needed maternity pants, but I had to use hair ties to ensure my jeans fit comfortably around my middle.
"I'm fine, thank you." He was just being polite. My soon-to-be ex-husband definitely did not want to know the details of my pregnancy.
I started opening drawers and taking out my things before folding them and placing them in my bag. I worked silently, aware that Drew's presence loomed behind me. The awkwardness stretched. I hated it. This wasn't us. This strained quietness that ruptured the peace we had built over the years. It felt utterly shitty to have him standing there while I packed my life up.
Still, the quicker I packed up, the sooner I could leave. I didn't even bother folding the clothes properly anymore; I just dumped them on top of the other. I was on the verge of breaking down, and I couldn't do it with him standing there. Damnit, why did he have to be here? Couldn't he have taken the hint when I'd given him the courtesy of a head's up?
My breaths were coming quicker as I fought to keep my tears at bay. I felt a little frantic as I opened drawers and fingered through items, trying to find anything to take. I didn't want to come back here again unless I had to.
I bent and opened the bottom drawer, where I kept my sleep shirts. I plucked the first one out, and it unraveled in my hand. My eye caught the front, and I froze. It was a shirt Drew had bought for me when he'd gone to New York for a bachelor party six years ago. It was a typical I Love New York shirt that was faded to all hell, but I loved it. It had holes in the sleeves from the many times I'd caught it on a door handle, but it was big and comfy, and I still liked to wear it to bed. I fingered the white cotton, my lip quivering. But most of all, I loved it because it had been from Drew.
"Frankie…" Drew's hoarse voice broke through my shattered mind.
I licked my lips, tasting salt. I sucked in a shaky breath. "Drew…c-can you please give me some privacy?" I couldn't look at him. I couldn't breathe. Not until I heard his quiet footsteps retreat from our room without a word.
I sank to the floor, my back against our marital bed. I buried my wet face in the shirt, my shoulders shaking as I silently sobbed.
I only allowed myself ten minutes to break down completely before I wiped the remaining tears away and calmly finished packing. I wheeled the suitcase to the top of the stairs, but before I dragged it down, Drew suddenly appeared. Without a word, he effortlessly carried it down for me.
I took the handle off him and started wheeling the case towards the door. I didn't want him taking it to the car for me. I couldn't bear to prolong this torture any longer.
"Can we talk?" he quietly asked.
I shook my head. "I haven't looked into a divorce yet."
Truthfully, I’d expected Drew to have already served me with papers. I was so caught up on the next step of my life and making sure my baby would make it past the first trimester, that visiting a divorce lawyer was the last thing on my mind.
Drew's face flashed with a look of hurt before he shook his head. "No, that's not what I was going to say." He took a deep breath. "I hated how we left things the last time. I was so hurt." He stopped and gave a harsh laugh. "Devastated more like it. Angry."
My mouth tightened. "I understand." I did.
"But that didn't give me the right to lash out at you like that. I fucked up our marriage even before we separated. I'm so sorry, Frankie."
I fingered the handle of my bag and nodded, too afraid to speak in case I burst into tears again.
"Are you still at Nell's?"
"Yeah."
"Are you looking for a new place?"
I shook my head. "I'm moving back home, back in with Dad."
His breath sucked in. "What?"
I shrugged. "He insisted, and it makes sense. At least for the first few years while I find my feet."
"You're moving back to Columbia?"
"Once…once I give birth, yeah. And it's not so far away that I can't still take jobs here and in the surrounding areas. It all works out well. I can save up and then…well, that's as far as I've gotten."
Drew had a stricken look on his face, his frame stone still.
"Are you okay?"
"No,” he rasped. “No, I'm not." He stepped closer to me, his revealing stare searching my face. "The thought of you away from the city. From me…" His voice broke, and I turned my face away from him. Not wanting to see this emotional side of him again. I couldn't handle it.
He sank to the couch and pulled at his hair. "This is all too much. Everything is moving so fast. I thought there was time."
"Time?"
"Time to sort through our marriage. Time to figure out what to do with the state of our marriage. Time to work through everything. Time for you to forgive me. For everything."
"Drew…"
"If I knew," he glanced up at me, his eyes glassy. "If I knew that this would be the alternative. This feeling that I've lost you. That you had to turn to another man for comfort. That the…the child you're carrying isn't mine." He paused, his lips rolling in as he fought to compose himself.
"If I knew, I would've cherished you and never let a single tear drop from your eye. I would've booked dinner out with you every week. I would've been home by six every night, cooking with you, rubbing your feet, watching your trashy reality shows. I would've gone to a thousand therapy sessions with you if that's what you wanted. I would've been honest with you about my fears for our future. Carly wouldn't even be in the picture because I wouldn't have been stupid enough to invite her attention. Not when I had the most beautiful and devoted wife waiting for me at home. And I never would've asked for a separation. A separation I wanted to take back as soon as I said it."
He moved closer to me, tears unashamedly dripping down his face. "If I knew…I would've done a million things differently."
My mouth turned down in sadness at his words. They were everything I ever wanted to hear. If he had said all this before we separated, I would've opened my heart to try and work through it all. Our marriage had been worth it.
If he knew…
"But you didn't," I whispered. "You didn't do any of those things. And that's the problem."