However, if the damage is too great, if your heart and love for a man who betrayed you is too broken, the money will help to set you on a new journey. A fresh start. You will also find a second business card; it’s for the best divorce attorney in the state. His services will no doubt help you to heal as well.

We love you,

Campbell

Dropping the letter in my lap I consider my options. Could I walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved? Our home, our life together? Hasn’t he already walked away?

I hear another buzz from my phone to see two text messages from Jack.

Jack: Ran into a few snags here in New York. I’ll be gone a few more days.

Jack: Give Liv kisses for me.

I stare blankly at the phone, willing another message to come through. One that says, “I love you or I miss you. I’ve messed up and need to talk to you, beg for your forgiveness.” That doesn’t happen though.

I gather the business cards from the seat and punch in the phone number on the card. As the line rings, I put the car in drive and head in the direction of my bank. If I’m going to do this, things will need to be in order.

“Hello, how may I direct your call?” the woman on the other end politely says.

I clear my throat and speak as clearly as possible, even though the ache may strangle me. “Yes,” I croak out. “I need to make an appointment; the sooner the better please.”

Carly

It has taken a bit of time to prepare for this day. As much as I wanted it all to be untrue, I couldn’t pretend the affair wasn’t happening. Even if I confronted Jack and forgave him, even if he wanted to leave his girlfriend and work on our marriage, I don’t think I could ever forget what he’s done.

We are too damaged, too ruined.

While I may be able to forgive him, no amount of counseling could make me let it go. Every time things felt off, I would be wondering if we were on this same unfaithful road. Every time he was out of town, I would be uneasy and worried there was someone else on the other end of that plane ride.

I just can’t. There’s no way I could live the next fifty years of my life like that.

I deserve better.

I deserve the fairy tale.

At first, I felt overwhelmed at the thought of starting over. Finding a job, somewhere to live, getting a lawyer, they were all such daunting tasks. Divorce feels foreign to me, and it seems like society allows for no growing room. There is no grieving time for the loss of the relationship, no break to pull your head together, piece your life together. It’s like as soon as the ink dries, you should be ready to move on.

It’s been a struggle to keep my plans hidden from Jack. No matter how much I wanted to scream at him, I held it in. I knew I would cave if I let him wiggle back into my splintered heart. I wanted to be able to walk away from him standing on my own two feet, strong, and with the upper hand. So Jack came and went for two weeks, not knowing I knew his secret.

But I’m ready now.

Campbell’s money afforded me a new place to live and the retainer for a good lawyer. However, when I drove to the bank on the day of my meeting with the girls, I drained half of our savings account; well, that money has helped, too. I start my new job at the salon in two days, which will provide the financial independence I’ve been missing for the last few years.

My family has been less than supportive of my decision. While they are upset with Jack, they think I should at least give my marriage a second chance by trying marriage counseling. Thankfully, the girls have been supportive, helping me whenever I needed them. They have never questioned my decision.

When I mentioned I didn’t want Olivia at the house when the movers came for the furniture, Vivian immediately volunteered to watch her. I want this to be as smooth a transition as possible; besides, I wanted a few moments alone in the house before I have to let go of it. I thought my forever would be there. I already had Olivia’s graduation party, Christmases with grandchildren, and every other major occasion planned for that house. So to walk away from my dream house, my dream life, isn’t bittersweet…it’s just bitter.

I walk from room to room, checking to make sure I have packed everything. The pictures on the wall jump out at me, a reminder of the life I thought I had, which turned out to be a lie. They only reaffirm that I have no intentions of ever being in this house again.

“Ma’am, the truck is loaded. Is there anything else you would like us to add before we close it up?” the mover asks as I make my way to the top of the stairs.

I walk down the stairs and take one last look around. “No, that’s everything,” I say. “Thank you for double checking; I’ll meet you at the new residence. I’ll be just a few minutes behind you.”

The middle-aged man smiles a gentle, reassuring smile. He’s not naïve. In his line of work, he probably comes across this often, the soon-to-be ex-wife moving out her belongings from the family home. Nonetheless, I appreciate his professionalism and compassion.

“No problem. Take your time, we’ll just wait for you at the townhouse,” he says before turning and leaving out the front door.

As soon as I hear the locks click shut I let out a long, refreshing exhale. I expect to feel the vibration of my breath, emotion-filled and stammering. But it’s smooth and invigorating. I have no tears left to cry. How can I mourn for a man, a love, I never really had?

Gathering the DVD and documents, I carefully set the scene for Jack’s arrival home. It was the best way I could think of to let Jack in on my revelation…I’m done, too.

The film of him and his girlfriend is paused on the television screen, and I leave a post-it note on the TV instructing him to push play. I almost wish I could see his face when he realizes he’s been caught...almost.

On top of the DVD player, I leave behind an envelope with his name written across the front. I thought for a long time about what I wanted to put in the envelope, the final words I wanted to part ways with. A poem perhaps. Maybe a love letter or a note of what could have, would have, should have been. They all carry a touch of nicety and civility. Instead of the words of what could have been, I leave the only thing he needed to have…divorce papers.

Campbell

The stress of Carly’s divorce, the band preparing for tour, Jen’s wedding, and my feelings for Lakin, have all been wearing on me. I’ve been in need of a distraction from everything, so when Vivian asked if I wanted to help out in the afternoons at the foundation, I jumped at the chance. It would be a great way to momentarily escape my current reality. Spending time with the kids at the foundation, some of whom are living in a situation that I’m all too familiar with, is cathartic.

It also puts things into focus for me. The last thing I should be doing is bitching about my life, when these teenagers are fighting just to stay afloat of their sometimes out of control lives. Right now, it’s exactly what I need.

“Hey, Viv,” I say as I walk through her colorful office, which is filled with family pictures and drawings from her kids. Vivian is such a warm person; love and charisma ooze from her pores and draws people to her. She is a magnetic force, a gravity unto herself that surrounds you and forces a smile to your face. She is the sister, mother, friend everyone wishes they could have. She is our little circle’s glue that holds us together, although she would never claim that. She takes care of us all in the same way a mother would, and we are all better women because of her.

Joslyn is wiggling in her bouncy seat, so I reach down and scoop her out. She immediately goes for my hair and begins pulling it. I should know better by now to have it put up when I’m around her; she is in her glasses and hair phase, in which both are too tempting not to pull or destroy. I lightly peel my strands from her tiny fingers and twist my hair out of her reach.