It was a simple case of inertia. A body in motion stays in motion, while a body at rest stays at rest.

That was my marriage. A marriage that sucked and would continue to suck.

A couple of hours later I curled up with some Chinese takeout, Felix, and Netflix. Felix enthusiastically agreed to the arrangement, snuggling up next to my legs and wriggling under my arm to be petted and maybe snatch a bite of shrimp fried rice. The evening I’d planned suited my mood perfectly, and I’d practically decided I didn’t need a man when Spencer came home and spoiled everything.

When he walked into the bedroom, Felix barely looked up, and I kept my eyes trained on the television.

“Hey!” Spencer said, clearly looking for a response.

“Oh, hey.” I did my best to look uninterested in his sudden presence. Sure it was evil, but I couldn’t help myself. Unbidden, my brain conjured up an olfactory memory of last night’s perfume that would linger much longer than the original.

“Uh, have you eaten?” Spencer’s voice dripped with irritation.

I made a big show of pausing the television show and looking up at him with undisguised annoyance. Spencer stood at the end of the bed, one hand on the substantial wooden structure. One of his chestnut curls fell carelessly onto his forehead, but I refused to let him affect me. “Yes, I have eaten. Because you are never home. So… Yeah. I’ve eaten. If I waited for you to eat, I’d starve.” Then I glanced back at the television, purposely pressed PLAY, and went back to ignoring him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Spencer’s jaw drop. “I don’t believe you! So we don’t do anything together anymore?”

“I guess not. But that’s hardly my fault, now is it, Spencer? You’re the one who rarely even sleeps here,” I responded, raising my eyebrows but keeping my eyeballs glued to the screen.

“Un-FUCKING-believable!” he shouted, then turned and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Funny, that’s what I think every day,” I said to the empty space where Spencer had stood. I scratched one of Felix’s favorite spots under his chin. “Good riddance,” I whispered into his soft fur.

CHAPTER TWO

On my way to work the next morning I ruminated over the discord between Spencer and me the night before. This morning, no evidence appeared to show that he came home after I fell asleep, so I assumed he stayed out all night. Every day it grew clearer to me that my marriage was a sinking ship.

But even though I knew that was the case, I was floored when I checked my phone during my one free period, while my class had gone to P.E., and I read this text from my husband.

I want a divorce.

I wish I could say I was surprised, or that it made me want to cry, but instead all I thought was, What a jerk! It was bad enough to break up with someone via text, but to end a marriage that way was unconscionable.

Utter douchebaggery.

Spencer in a nutshell.

For me, divorce had never been an option. I was a Davenport, and Davenports did not divorce.

Divorce was admitting failure, and Davenports did not fail.

Oh, there had been times I secretly wished Spencer would hit me, because that would have been grounds for me to leave him. My family would understand that, I thought. But Spencer would have never done that, instead he abused me emotionally with infidelity and neglect.

And now there was his text.

Was it really over? My hand started to shake a little, the result of anxiety mixed with fear and elation.

To say my family would be disappointed would be putting it mildly. My mother would have a field day, listing all my inadequacies, all the steps I could have taken—no, make that should have taken—to save my marriage. Suddenly I felt the urge to vomit, but I sat very still until it passed.

A minute later my class returned from P.E., the grassy, sweaty smell of children who had been outdoors filling the room, and I steadied myself to deliver their math lesson.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur and when the final school bell rang, I slumped into my chair and sent a text to my friend Shelby Carr.

I need a good divorce lawyer.

I had only been home a few minutes when Shelby knocked on my door. I opened the door a crack, but she pushed inside and started giving me the third degree. “What the fuck happened?” Shelby had never been one to mince words, but sometimes she could be a little “much”.

“Nice to see you, too,” I countered. Shelby was an heiress who had recently gone through her second divorce, which was why I contacted her. Her father had been a hotel magnate, and when he died several years ago, she inherited an unknown sum that was rumored to be in the neighborhood of nine figures. If anyone knew how to protect their assets it was Shelby and her legal team.

“Pfft.” She waved me off. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I want to know what happened.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Spencer and I have been on different paths for a while, but today he sent me this.” I showed her the text on my phone.

“That rat bastard. I’ll bet he’s knocked up one of his little whores.” She made herself at home on my couch and tapped her long, crimson fingernails on the chest that served as an end table.

“You think?” I asked, feeling kicked in the gut. That possibility hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Oh yeah. That’s the only reason he’d leave you.”

I stared at her, not comprehending.

“Your name, your family’s money. Spencer is in love with that, Sophie. Face it, if it wasn’t for that you two would have broken up a long time ago.”

Ouch. “Gee, thanks, Shelby. That makes me feel so much better.”

Shelby’s big blue eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be glad to be rid of him. I didn’t know this was a pity party. I thought it was a strategy-planning session.” She bit her lip. “Oops. Didn’t get the memo.”

“It’s okay. I guess a part of me is relieved. But I’m so embarrassed, and I feel like such a loser.”

Shelby rolled her eyes. “Enough. That man is an asshole, and he has been an asshole since the day you married him. This is a blessing. Trust me. You were wasting time on him. Now you can find a real man and get on with your life. But first we have to make sure he doesn’t get anything.”

I nodded. “Want something to drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do. What have you got?”

“Wine.”

“All right.”

I went into the kitchen, poured us both a glass of Prosecco, and handed one to Shelby.

“What if he tries to come back?” I took a sip, enjoying the bubbles fizzing in my throat. “Maybe this is only temporary.”

Shelby shot me a look. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

Shelby crinkled up her patrician nose. “Change the locks, babe. Don’t you let him come back. Soph, I hate for you to keep getting fucked over by that asshole. Why don’t you come out with me tomorrow night? Maybe if you see what’s out there, remember what it’s like to be single, it might make getting a divorce seem more attractive.”

It had been years since I’d been out partying with Shelby. I was way too old for that, but I had to admit that curiosity was what made me get on the internet the other night.

“Okay, twist my rubber arm.”

“Yay!” Shelby wiped her hand across her brow in mock relief. “We’ll show that husband of yours, and we’ll have a great time in the process. Show him you know how to have a good time, too. He’s not the only one. I’ll send a car for you at nine.” Shelby downed her drink. “Look, I hate to run, but I’m meeting some people for happy hour. Ciao!” Then she exited as quickly as she had arrived, leaving me all alone and wondering how I’d sunk so low, so fast.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day was Friday, and school dragged on at a snail’s pace. I tried not to think too much about going out with Shelby that night so I wouldn’t get anxious. It had been a while since I’d gone out partying and I was a little intimidated. The fact that Shelby was practically a professional party girl made me feel better because she could show me the ropes, but worse because I knew I’d feel like a dufus next to her. But by the time the day was over, it felt like summer vacation was finally here, even though it was really a couple of weeks away.