Chapter 2

Jack brought two people up with him.

The one in front was a man around fifty, his beer belly straining against his jacket, a thick gold chain hanging at his collar that he kept fingering out of habit. Behind him came a woman with graying hair. She wore a sharp, dark gray long coat, no jewelry except a small silver brooch, and carried an old leather bag. She stood in the doorway and scanned the room first, her gaze steady.

"Evelyn, these are both serious buyers," Jack said, rubbing his hands together.

"Mrs. Miller. Mr. Hayes." I nodded at each of them. "Take a look around. Make yourselves at home."

Mrs. Miller walked into the living room, unhurried, her eyes moving from the curtains to the floor, then to the pile of broken glass in the corner. She didn't speak right away. She glanced toward the kitchen before turning back.

"The bones of this place are good." Her voice was quiet but clear. "But... did something just happen here?"

"Divorce," I said.

Jack's smile froze on his face. Mrs. Miller looked at me for two seconds, nodded, and didn't press. No pity, no awkwardness. She just switched her bag to the other hand and continued toward the dining room.

Hayes, though, laughed.

"Alright," he said. "I like dealing with people who get straight to the point."

"Good," I said. "I don't like wasting time either."

He didn't bother touring the other rooms. He walked straight over.

"At the price Jack quoted. Ten percent under. Cash. Sign today."

Jack opened his mouth. "Hold on, Mr. Hayes. Mrs. Miller hasn't even—"

Mrs. Miller walked back from the dining room and stopped. "I was originally thinking of buying it for my daughter," she said, glancing at Hayes, her tone flat. "Since someone's in such a hurry, I won't fight for it." She turned to me and gave a slight nod. "Good luck, dear." Then she headed for the door, not even sparing Jack a look as she passed.

Jack stood there, face burning. Hayes didn't so much as glance at him.

"So?" Hayes asked me. "Signing or not?"

I suddenly thought back to three years ago.

The first day I moved in, Candace stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and said her back was bad, that the master had its own bathroom, so she needed it. That night, Eric told me to give up the master.

"She's getting older. Can't you be a little understanding?"

I said my parents bought this house. The master should be ours.

He looked at me. I still remember that look. Not anger. Something cold. Annoyed. Inconvenienced.

"Why are you so stubborn?"

I gave in. We moved into the guest room. Small, dark, the closet door didn't even close right. I thought giving in would buy me some peace.

Instead, they learned something: if they pushed hard enough, I'd always fold.

"Sign," I told Hayes. "Your office. Now."

Hayes's eyes lit up. "Now that's what I like."

Jack snapped out of it and hustled us out the door.

At the real estate office, the first thing I did was call Rachel.

"Rachel, it's Evelyn. I want a divorce. I need it done now."

Two seconds of silence.

"Are you serious?"

"Never more serious in my life. The house is sold. The buyer's sitting next to me. I need you to review the contract. And draft the divorce papers too."

"The house is sold?!" Rachel's voice shot up. "When did you—"

"I'll explain later. Get over here. The real estate office conference room. I'll text you the address."

"Fine. Twenty minutes."