The Cabin - Jasinda Wilder Page 0,32
judge I didn’t give a single shit about anything at all, I just wanted to be done, divorced.”
“Was he there?” It’s like my brain is being operated by something other than me, functioning for me.
Tess has been there for me through this, and I have to give back to her. I have to be her friend too. But where this thoughtfulness is coming from, I don’t know. I’m still numb.
She nods. “Yeah, he was. He looked like he was trying to look guilty, or chagrined, or something, but couldn’t quite manage it.” She shrugs. “It’s weird how little of a fuck I give about him. Like, I’m not even sad. I’m barely even angry anymore. I’m not, like, happy, or relieved. I didn’t want to be a divorcee. But now it’s over and I’m just…ready to move on. I just simply do not have a single feeling to spare for Clint McAlister.”
“How is Yvette?”
She sighs. “Not exactly sure, quite honestly. She asked why we were getting divorced, so I told her the whole actual truth. She’s eighteen, so I guess I didn’t see the point in dissembling, you know? I think she’s hurt that it’s happening, but when I sat down with her via Zoom the other day and told her I was taking my maiden name back she was, like, fiercely in favor. She asked if she could hyphenate her name, so she’d be Yvette McAlister-Tailor. I told her to wait and think on it awhile. I just wanted to be assured that she didn’t mind me doing it. She said she understood, and she’s in support of me going back to being Tess Tailor.”
“I’m sorry I missed it, Tess.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be. It was supremely lame and anticlimactic. The judge started in on this whole spiel, and I politely interrupted and said could we dispense with the bullshit and just get to the part where we sign the papers? And she asked Clint if he felt the same way, which he did, and then we both signed and that was that. She pronounced our union divorced. Boom. I got the house, my car, and I chose to take the cash-out option he offered which is actually pretty sizeable. Maybe he was hiding things so I got a shit deal, I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m selling the house for nearly a million and netting over half a million, plus another hundred grand in investment cash-out, so I’m fine. I’ll have enough to find a killer place downtown and that’s all I really care about.”
“Tess, I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty friend to you lately,” I say.
“Oh, what a pile of moose poop,” she says. “This is what we do, boo.” She hugs me. “I’m here for you, which brings me back to my original question. Can I move in with you for a while? I’m not quite ready to start looking for a new place yet.”
I sigh. “Is that the real reason, Tess?”
“Fine. I’m worried about you. You need me. I need to be here with you until I’m sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll never be okay again, Tess.”
“Yes, you will. It’ll take time, but you will.”
I shake my head. “I don’t see how.” I look down and find her hand. Hold it. “You come live with me as long as you want, and when you’re ready to move out, do it. I don’t want you to worry about me. You need to live your life too, Tess. I don’t want you babysitting me indefinitely.”
“It’s not babysitting. It’s being there for my best friend when she needs me, just the same way you’d do the same for me.” She smiles brightly. “And now we’re roommates again.”
“Thank you, Tess.” My throat feels tight. “You’ve done so much for me, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
She hisses, hands raised palms out. “Stop, stop. Don’t make me cry. Right now, let’s get practical. We’re going to need supplies: several boxes of tissues, lots of ice cream, and lots of wine.”
“Not wine,” I say. “Anything but wine, and especially not red wine.”
I don’t have to explain to Tess, of all people, that red wine was Adrian’s and my thing.
“Know what you do want to drink, then?”
What was it we used to drink in college?
“Remember the parties we used to throw back in college?” I ask. “We’d buy six bottles of the cheapest vodka we could find, a bunch of two-liter bottles of soda water, and a bag of