4. Chapter Four | Savannah
Chapter four
February Present day – one month after penthouse discovery
The flames of the fire crackle and flow across the edges of the manilla envelope as though dancing together with the oxygen they consume and require to burn.
A deep, cleansing breath slows my heart rate slightly just before I take a big drink of my wine.
If Shane thought I was going to sign this absolute bullshit, he’s dumber than a box of rocks.
I set my wine glass on the side table, tugging my lavender shawl tighter before slowly massaging my temples.
Leaning my head back on the lounger, I take a long and slow deep breath of the crisp evening air.
How did this become my life?
Four weeks ago, it was just a normal Tuesday. I never would have imagined that organizing the paper chaos in our home office would light a match that caused my marriage of fourteen years to go up in smoke. Well, technically thirteen years, I guess we didn’t quite make it to year fourteen.
The memory of that morning still feels like a nightmare.
Stacking more papers together on the desk, a business card falls out of the pile.
I don’t recognize the name, some realtor in Nashville and probably related to one of Shane’s cases.
I start going through the pile to see if I can figure out where the card belongs, if anywhere.
I find a folder with the same company name, and as I open it, my mouth drops like a damn cartoon character.
“What the actual hell is this?” Did I just enter an alternative universe?
The folder holds a signed purchase agreement to a penthouse in the heart of Nashville and a …
whoa, a very expensive penthouse. I turn the page, and instead of our family trust listed as the buyer, it only says Shane T. Williams.
Why would my husband buy a penthouse in his name when we always purchase property in our family trust’s name, and why have I not heard about this until now?
I check the date of the signing and there’s an easy way to see if I can find out more information.
I open the shared family calendar and look up the date.
Shane’s calendar says he was in court all day but that doesn’t quite add up for me.
I pull up the clerk of courts schedule through Shane’s login and check the calendar for the date.
Shane wasn’t scheduled for a single court appearance. I slam the purchase agreement papers down and stalk to the kitchen to call my husband.
“Hey, Savannah. Is this urgent? I was just about to head into a meeting with a client.” I bristle at how he answers the phone. Urgent? I’ll show him urgent.
“I’ll keep it real quick, Shane. What the hell is at eighteen hundred South Park Boulevard in Nashville?”
His silence is deafening.
“Hello?” I check to make sure our call is still connected.
Shane clears his throat before saying anything. “Savannah … I promise I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
“I’m not sure you meant for me to find out at all! What the hell is going on?”
“It’s time for both of us to face reality and stop living with our heads in the sand. I’m done, Savannah. I want out—and I want you to be free too.”
“You know I hate when you use your courtroom voice on me, Shane Williams. I am your wife, not a jury to persuade. You want out of what, exactly? Spell it out for me so I’m not assuming anything because what I’m currently assuming is really fucking serious.
” He doesn’t get to tip toe around this; he can grow a pair and man up for once.
“I’m done, Sav. I’m filing for divorce. I bought the penthouse so when I officially move out, I have a home base.”
“Your home is here, with me and our girls, Shane.” I can’t believe we are having this conversation. Is this really happening?
“No, it’s not. Not anymore, Savannah. We’re over.”
“But we’re good, I mean, we aren’t great, but I don’t understand. Is there someone else?”
“No, I haven’t cheated, Savannah. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“We need to talk about this, Shane. Or at the very least, don’t we owe it to each other and our girls to try marriage counselling or something before jumping off the deep end?” Am I really that easy for him to just walk away from?
“Listen,”—Shane huffs in exasperation—"you know that I never wanted the suburban life. I had a plan for my life, and it does not include small town living. It’s suffocating me, and I want my freedom back.”
“Freedom from suburban life, or freedom from me?” The tears well in my eyes as the reality of this conversation starts to sink in.
“They are one in the same, Savannah. I’m sorry.”
“So, I get to explain to my girls that they’re going to have new bedrooms at their father’s house now?” My breath escapes my lungs as my chest tightens at the thought.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll still want to see the girls of course, but you will be named the primary custodial parent, and I’ll still take care of all the expenses.
The penthouse is only two bedrooms, but I didn’t think they would want to stay with me anyway, and we won’t live that far away from each other. We will be close enough.”
“I’ve never felt further from you in my entire life, Shane. Go to hell.” I hang up and run to the bathroom, just barely making it before emptying my stomach.
Later that evening, I drowned my sorrows in one of Shane’s favorite bottles of wine he was saving for a special occasion.
When I told Vivian and Jack that I was just getting started with doing anything and everything I can to make his life hell, I meant it.
At times, it feels like I’m throwing an adult tantrum, but I really don’t care.
I’m so pissed off at the man. He wanted to be done with us, and what, did he really expect me to just roll over and send him off with a wave?
He didn’t see the tears his daughters cried when I had to explain to them what was happening because he couldn’t even make time to be present for that conversation with them, despite my pleading.
But he doesn’t listen to me, or what I think is best for our girls.
He was always at work, but his absence has been amplified in the last month, and he has barely seen them.
So, it only took me about two point five seconds to decide what to do with his most recent divorce settlement offer.
We’ve been using a mediator through his law firm, but this offer is beyond ridiculous.
He wants to have his cake and eat it too, while controlling the entire situation.
When I read the line about child support being reduced by fifty percent if I were to remarry, I saw red.
He thinks if I remarry someone else, then he is just off the hook of taking care of our girls?
He wants to be done with our marriage, fine, but he doesn’t want me to move on with anyone else? Hell to the no.
If anything, now I’m going to go for even more.
Asshole.
“Mama?” my oldest daughter Olivia calls out as she walks out on the patio. I check my watch but it’s only a few minutes past her bedtime.
“What’s up, baby? I thought you were already in bed.” Olivia is already in her pajamas so she’s probably headed there soon anyway. She is eleven, and while the preteen phase isn’t always fun, she’s definitely the most like me out of our three girls.
“I was, but I wanted to watch that new cake show that dropped tonight, and my Netflix login isn’t working.
I can’t figure it out.” Hmm, that’s odd.
All those passwords are saved in the cloud, and I didn’t change anything.
I grab my phone and pull the app up. That’s strange; I don’t remember signing out of the app.
I click the log in button and receive an error message .
Account not found.
“I don’t know what’s going on, Liv, but I’ll fix it, okay? Go on back inside and finish getting ready for bed. I love you.” She leans over to hug me and I kiss her cheek before she goes back inside.
I pull up my email and sure enough, there’s an email cancelling our account. I click reactive account and put in my credit card information.
Payment unsuccessful. Please select another form of payment.
No, that’s not possible. That account has thousands of dollars in it; it’s our general household expenses account. I quickly log in to our bank account and bile creeps up my throat as I read the red banner alert that pops up.
Account assets are temporarily frozen due to ongoing legal proceedings. If you believe you received this message in error, please contact the bank directly.
“Son of a bitch.” I call my asshole ex but he sends me to voicemail. Fine, I’ll chew his ass out through texts.
Me
WTF?! Seriously, Shane? Tell me you did NOT freeze our bank accounts! And why is our Netflix cancelled?
Shane
I told you to sign that agreement by 4 PM today. You didn’t listen so I requested a court order and my attorney had it approved at 4:45 PM. I’m sick of your games.
Me
So you’re punishing our girls for this? Do you realize how insane this makes you look? How does taking away their streaming help us find a peaceful resolution to our marriage? How is this putting them first? Isn’t that what you said you wanted?
Shane
I meant what I said. You need to pay attention and take me seriously. Sign the papers, Savannah.
Me
Shoot. Quite literally cannot do that. They’re in the process of becoming ash in the fireplace. Want to see a picture for proof to add to your legal filings? Is that serious enough for you?
Shane
You’re a fucking child. Can you please grow up and deal with this like a rational adult?
I didn’t want this to get ugly. You’re the one being difficult.
I’ll have a courier send a new set to the house first thing in the morning.
Or get an attorney and we’ll take this to court.
But… wait, you would still need me to pay for the legal fees because you don’t currently have access to any funds, huh?
Reality is a bitch, Savannah. You brought this on yourself.
Me