Unhinge

  “No.”

  “Assets?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s with the twenty questions?” Renee blurted out.

  I knew that this was part of the process, but Renee didn’t. She looked shocked and pissed-off.

  “These questions are standard. I need to go in knowing as much information as I can.”

  Renee sat back and gave him a brief nod.

  Mr. Randall glanced at me with his sad blue eyes. “If you are to petition for divorce, seeking damages, spousal support, etc., there’s a good chance that he will fight back. He’s cunning enough to make sure you walk away with nothing.”

  “I know that.”

  “Again, I’m not trying to discourage you. I think it’s fair that I be up front in the very beginning about this process. It’s not easy. In a perfect scenario you file. It’s an uncontested divorce. You go to mediation. You sort everything out and the paperwork is filed. Now, that’s most cases. But sometimes it can get ugly. Very ugly. You need to be prepared.”

  I nodded.

  The look on his face showed that he was doubtful. He cleared his throat. “What are the grounds for divorce?”

  “I want it to be uncontested.”

  There was my journal and the pictures of that mystery woman that could back me up if I decided to fight, but all I wanted was to leave this marriage and move on.

  “Have there been domestic disputes?”

  I hesitated and he pounced on my silence like a lion. “Please be honest.”

  Both he and Renee stared at me and I felt myself caving in. “Yes.”

  “Is there proof? Have you ever called the police? Filed a report?”

  “There’s proof, but I don’t want to make this difficult. I just want to cut ties with him once and for all.”

  “I understand that,” Mr. Randall replied patiently. “But it might not go as you’ve planned.”

  I took a deep breath and stared out the window. A long silence followed.

  “Do you still want to move forward?” he asked gently.

  I swallowed loudly, staring at the kind man in front of me. “Yes.”

  Mr. Randall looked surprised by my answer. He dropped his pen and stood up from his desk. “Very well.”

  The next hour was filled with nothing but heavy questions and filling out an insane amount of paperwork. What documents would be filed and what was required of me. By the time I stood up to leave my head was reeling. But I had jumped one hurdle and for right now, that was enough.

  When it was time to go, he stood up and shook my hand. I swore I saw the smallest amount of respect in his eyes.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “Well, Wes will have to be notified that you’ve filed for divorce. You can’t serve him the papers. In most circumstances anyone else can serve him the papers.”

  “I’ll do it,” Renee chimed in.

  I shot Renee a look. “Is there any other option to serve the papers?” I asked him.

  “Of course. It can be through mail. Service by picking it up. But I think the best option is personal service, where the spouse is personally delivered the papers. This also means that the court can have personal jurisdiction over the spouse.”

  Hesitantly, I nodded. “Let’s do that.”

  “All right. The second he is served, you’ll be notified.”

  “What happens after that?”

  “After that we’ll go through any assets or outstanding debts that you have together. What belongings in your household that you want or don’t want. A court date will be set. You’ll go before a judge. And if all goes well, then the paperwork will be finalized.”

  “And if it doesn’t go well?”

  He shrugged, the look on his face grim. “Then this divorce could take years.”

  My body was shaking as we walked toward the car. Renee and I were quiet as we drove back home. I stared out the window, bouncing back and forth between relief that I did the right thing and fear that it would all blow up in my face. I would spend the next few days a nervous wreck, waiting to hear when the papers were served.

  This was one more hurdle that had been jumped and I knew I should be relieved and a small part of me was. Aside from actually telling Wes that I wanted a divorce, I knew filing would be one of the hardest parts of this whole situation. It hurt just as bad as I thought it would.

  “I’m proud of you,” Renee said.

  I didn’t reply.

  “I know I sound all mushy and dramatic,” she continued. “But I really mean it.”

  Renee sighed and gave my hand a pat. I continued to look out the window, staring into the traffic, feeling the weight of this situation pressing harder on my shoulders.

  I’d seen the ugly side of my husband enough to know that it could get uglier, and my gut told me that it was about to get much uglier.

  November 2014

  I took a pregnancy test in the bathroom at Wal-Mart.

  Waiting ten minutes until I got home to pee on that damn stick seemed like it would be an impossible feat. I had to find out and it had to be right now.

  My hands shook as I yanked the test kit out of the box. So many times had I taken the test, hoping with all my might for a positive result, only to be disappointed.

  Right now I didn’t know where I stood. Out of all the times in my life a pregnancy should arise, now was the worst. Still, the thought that I could be pregnant, that one of my dreams could actually be coming true, plowed over all the cons.

  I stared blindly at the graffitied door in front of me as I peed on the stick. As I waited for the results I read how Britney was a whore. Annie and Devin were meant to be 4eva. And Savannah, Kaylee, and Lucy were BFFs.

  Dear God, I hadn’t thought this through. Did I really want to find out life-changing news while the lady in the stall next to me told her son not to pee on the walls?

  Faucets were turning on and off and someone coughed loudly. I didn’t really care; my focus was on that thin white stick. It said to wait three minutes. Such a short amount of time but it stretched out in front of me, feeling more like three years.

  Nervously, my legs bobbed up and down. I told myself to breathe, that everything would be okay. No matter the results it would. Be. Okay.

  My nerves were shot. I finally peered down at the test and saw the positive line. I blinked a few times, waiting for the horizontal line to fade away and reveal the truth. But it stayed the same.

  My life did not.

  Funny how such a small test can change the course of your life.

  I grabbed my purse and with my left hand gripping the test stick, hurried out of the bathroom.

  Renee was slouched over the cart, slowly scrolling through her phone. When she saw me she stood up, her eyes overflowing with curiosity. “Did you take it?”

  My words were trapped in my throat. All I could do was nod and hand her the stick. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked between me and the test. “Are we happy?” she asked cautiously.

  I should have felt elated. This should have been an exciting time, but I was scared.

  Frantically I tried to do the math in my head. How late was my period? I’d never kept track of my periods. Like most women, I relied on my body to remain consistent. I think I was a week late. I think.

  I grabbed the test and stared at the results. “We’re happy,” I replied.

  After that it was nothing but an exchange of hugs and tears. “But don’t tell your brother.”

  “When are you going to tell him?”

  I tucked the test into my purse. “Soon. As in a few hours soon. But I need to wrap my head around this.”

  Before we left the store I ended up buying ten more test kits. As if the first one wasn’t clear enough.

  All I could think about was how Sinclair would take the news. Things were amazing between us, better than I could ever hope for. I couldn’t say the same for Wes and me. True to his word, he wasn’t making anything easy. He moved out of the house a wee
k ago and soon after announced he wanted to put the house up for sale. Fine by me; the house deserved to have a happy family living in it. But Wes wasn’t done. Any credit card debt? He felt I had to pay it off, arguing it was me who had spent the money. The items in the house, maybe the simplest things to deal with, were taking forever. He wanted to keep random things: pictures, a rug, our king-size bed. The chair in the living room. Can’t forget the flat-screen TV. The only things that we’d both agreed on him taking were the belongings in his office.

  He was grasping at anything he could get his hands on. Sinclair saw the frustration and hurt I was going through.

  My patience was unraveling. The days were going by so slowly. If it weren’t for Sinclair, I think I’d have gone crazy.

  The icing on the cake was my relationship with Wes’s mother. Well, our former relationship. Lee Donovan was painted a different picture by her son. She was indignant: shocked, hurt, and more than angry that I would ever leave Wes. After two conversations in which she told me I didn’t try hard enough and that maybe I was the problem, I stopped answering her calls.

  There was no doubt in my mind that by now half of Falls Church knew that Wes and I were separated. I had an even stronger suspicion that Lee had portrayed me in the worst possible light.

  I continually reminded myself that if that was the worst things would get, then I was lucky. And it was actually working.

  Until now.

  —

  I sat on the floor of my room, my back against my bed. All ten tests were spread out around me like scattered puzzle pieces. I wished it were that simple. I’d move a few pieces around and then, before I knew it, the puzzle would be complete and I would have my answer.

  I stared down at my BlackBerry and scrolled through my contacts. Sinclair’s name and number flashed on my screen, daring me to call him. I had no idea how he would take the news. Bringing another life into our relationship could make or break us. I was afraid it would be the latter. I genuinely wanted to believe that he’d accept the news with open arms, but I was jaded by the past. I was used to the bad, not the good.

  My mother and Renee called. I let both calls go straight to voicemail, and quickly made a call of my own before I lost all nerve.

  It rang twice before he answered.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said, my voice catching.

  He picked up on my fear immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath and held it. My gaze remained rooted on the test. I knew that once these words were out, I could never take them back. “I’m pregnant.”

  Silence.

  I frowned. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here.” Another pause. “Hold on, let me go somewhere private.”

  My left leg started to bob up and down. I couldn’t calm down. I brushed my hands across the beige carpet while telling myself that everything was going to be okay.

  It was.

  It was.

  I heard a door shut, and seconds later Sinclair said: “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I took the first one at Wal-Mart and then ten more when I got home.”

  “You took the first test at Wal-Mart?”

  “Can we focus on one thing?” I snapped.

  “Of course.” Sinclair paused. “You are pregnant.”

  I could feel his smile through the phone. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that you having our baby is the best news I could ever hear.”

  I laughed nervously. Instinctively, my hand dropped to my waist. His words gave me hope and courage for the future. They made me believe that everything was going to be okay.

  With a smile on my face, I picked up one of the many tests. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I.”

  The line was quiet. Both of us were lost in our own thoughts and then he said: “A baby…a baby!”

  His happiness made my own grow a thousandfold.

  “Thank you for taking this news so well,” I said.

  “Did you expect me to be upset?”

  “Yes,” I replied truthfully.

  “I can’t be upset about this, Victoria. It’s the best news I can imagine. Our lives can really begin.”

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you. Everything is going to be okay. We’ll get through this.”

  I believed him because it was the only thing I had left.

  January 2015

  Thousands of snowflakes danced in the air, softly falling all around me. Very carefully I walked up the pathway, the snow crunching beneath my feet. When I was finally on the porch I took a deep breath and stomped the snow off my shoes. I leaned heavily against the door as I searched for the house key.

  Then the door opened and I was yanked inside and pulled flush against Sinclair. I felt every ridge of muscle. The smell of his cologne was all around me. His warm breath caressed my neck.

  His lips slammed against mine. The tension eased from my body, and my hands hung limply at my sides. There was an exigency to this kiss. It was frantic and scared. Every slant of his lips, intake of breath, the way his tongue glided against mine revealed that he didn’t want to take a single moment for granted.

  Every move he made, I mirrored. We were in perfect harmony.

  My fingers gripped him tighter, pulling him closer. Kissing him should be enough. Being in his arms should be enough. But for me it wasn’t and I didn’t know if it ever would be.

  So I held him tighter and he kissed me deeper. His hands moved up my body, skimming my ribs, brushing against my bra before they stopped at my neck.

  Sinclair pulled away.

  “Hi.” His voice was deep and sensuous. It pulled at me, drew me closer, as if an invisible noose were around my neck.

  “I need you,” I said against his lips.

  He hesitated for just a second. His forehead rested against mine. Neither one of us moved. My breathing increased. I forgot what desire could do to you. It felt like a fire was lit inside me. Flames licked beneath my skin, making me tingle everywhere.

  He chuckled and the sound scraped against my skin. It spurred me on and made my body tremble.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Behind me was the hallway leading to his bedroom, but it was too far away for me. I think Sinclair felt the same; he guided us toward the couch, sitting down first and pulling me down so I was straddling his lap.

  He was under me. This strong man was under me and all mine. It sent a thrill down my spine; it was almost more than I could take.

  I tried to make quick work of his clothes but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Sinclair reached out and turned off the lamp. Instantly, we were bathed in darkness. I liked it this way; it made us rely solely on touch and words. Those two things make you work harder but the end result, the way it makes your body come alive, is worth it.

  My coat dropped to the floor and my clothes quickly followed. I kicked off my shoes. They hit the floor with a loud thump.

  His fingers curved around my hips. My palms slid over his shoulders, down over his back. I memorized every muscle, the feel of his warm, smooth skin. I kissed the side of his neck and gently bit down.

  “Slow down,” he whispered gruffly into my ear.

  “I’m trying,” I panted.

  I really was. But my body ignored my pleas and took control until there was nothing but frantic touches and kisses. It should be dangerous to feel this way, but it wasn’t. It was intoxicating. There was power in shutting down your mind and letting your body take control.

  Sinclair’s hips lifted from the couch long enough for me to tug his pants down. With a whisper-soft touch, my fingers drifted down his body. Muscle after well-defined muscle. Sinclair groaned when I reach his boxers. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes and smirked. My fingers hooked around the edges. He took in a sharp breath. I was so close to where I wanted to be. I could reach down just a few inches and wrap my
hand around him. I resisted the urge.

  I could feel his gaze. The intensity coming from him was enough to make me squirm on his lap.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned. His hands were splayed against my skin, gripping me possessively. He exhaled harshly. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “When has anything ever been easy between us?” I whispered.

  His fingers dragged through my hair. He held my face immobile. “I want to make this last as long as possible.” His hands loosened and drifted down my neck. His touch was like a feather skimming very gently over my body. “I want this just as bad as you,” he rasped.

  His hands reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra. The two flimsy straps that held it up slid down my arms. The material was dangerously low, almost exposing my breasts. At the thought of that my back arched. My bra dropped between us. I made quick work of shedding my underwear.

  He dipped his head. I smiled wickedly as he kissed the skin above my belly button, moving up, up, up until he reached the path between my breasts.

  “I love these freckles,” he whispered against my chest.

  “Yeah?” I whispered back.

  When he nodded, his lips brushed against my skin and I had to stop myself from groaning.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move because his touch set me aflame.

  He knew my body like the back of his hand.

  He cupped my breasts. They filled his hands and it was as though I was made for him. And maybe I was. Maybe everyone has someone in the world who fits them perfectly, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

  I felt his lips wrap around my nipple. When his tongue flicked against the very tip, I groaned. Gently he caressed it as he kissed me. Every second was torture and complete bliss—the best kind of buildup.

  Our bodies intimately touched and instantly I became wet. Sinclair wanted to make this last. I couldn’t though.

  “Now,” I whispered. “Right now.”

  I leaned down and kissed him with all the passion and lust I had for him. Sinclair’s arms banded around my waist. He sat up and my body was intimately pressed against him. The very tip of him rubbed against the most sensitive part of me. I gasped into his mouth and moved against him. He caught my hips. This was torture.