PART 2 — THEY CAME TO MY HOME AT 5:30 A.M. TO “TEACH ME HOW TO BE A WIFE”… AND FOUND TWO POLICE OFFICERS WAITING BESIDE MY HUSBAND’S SUITCASES
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At 5:28 a.m., Garrett finally understood that I had not been sleeping.
He stood in the hallway dripping from the bucket of ice water he had thrown over me twenty minutes earlier.
I was already dressed.
Hair done.
Makeup on.
A navy dress.
Bare feet.
And beside the front door sat two packed suitcases.
His.
He stared at them.
Then at me.
“What is this?”
I picked up my coffee.
“My birthday.”
His face tightened.
“Don’t start.”
I almost laughed.
Four years of insults.
Four years of being treated like free labor.
Four years of his mother deciding what happened in my home.
And somehow I was still the one who was “starting something.”
Then came the knock.
Three hard hits.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Garrett smiled.
“Good.”
“My family’s here.”
I looked at the clock.
5:30.
Right on schedule.
He walked toward the door.
I stepped in front of him.
“No.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“I’ll get it.”
When I opened the door, Lorraine was standing there with a casserole dish in one hand and a smug smile on her face.
Tabitha stood beside her.
Three sleepy children behind them.
Two huge bags.
One portable crib.
One cooler.
They had not come for breakfast.
They had come prepared to stay.
Lorraine looked past me.
“Finally.”
Then she saw the two men standing near the living room.
Uniforms.
Phoenix Police.
Her smile disappeared.
Tabitha froze.
Garrett stopped breathing.
One officer stepped forward.
“Garrett Cole?”
He looked confused.
“Yes.”
The officer held out an envelope.
“You’ve been served.”
Silence.
Garrett stared at the papers.
“What the hell is this?”
I answered before the officer could.
“A formal notice to vacate.”
His face went blank.
Lorraine laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You can’t evict your husband.”
I turned toward her.
“This apartment is my separate property.”
“I bought it before the marriage.”
“His name isn’t on the deed.”
“And yesterday my attorney filed for exclusive possession pending divorce.”
Garrett looked at me.
“Divorce?”
That word hit him harder than the papers.
“You’re divorcing me?”
“Yes.”
“Over my family?”
“No.”
I looked him straight in the eye.
“Over you.”
The hallway went dead quiet.
Then Tabitha snapped:
“You’re insane.”
I turned toward her.
“You’re trespassing.”
Her mouth fell open.
“I’m his sister!”
“And you don’t live here.”
Lorraine pushed forward.
“You are not going to humiliate my son in front of his children.”
“They’re not his children.”
I looked at Tabitha.
“They’re yours.”
