Let It Go Read Online Free Page B

elbow gently jabbing him in the ribs.
    He huffs, a strained grin appearing on his lips. “So, did you clean me out today at the courthouse?”
    “Yep. Took you for all you’re worth.” Her smile quickly fades. “Only took what was mine. My debt, my house, and the Jeep. You keep your place out in the boondocks,” she quips, thanking her lucky stars she resisted moving out there upon his urging two years ago. And may I remind you, you’re the one who moved out. You’re sure to point out that divorce was my idea. How do you propose we stay successfully married while living in two different households? She keeps the thought to herself, as rehashing it now would be pointless. Aptly returning to the topic at hand, she continues, “I didn’t touch your retirement. And I figured you’d want the car for the gas mileage, driving in and out of the city.”
    “That easy, huh?” he asks. “One lousy signature negates eight years of a life shared. Shouldn’t surprise me, seeing how you never even took my last name.”
    “I guess that’s what happens when you elope to Vegas.” She chuckles with the memory, looking down at her left hand, her ring finger empty, as usual. “Jack, we never even bought rings.”
    “You said you didn’t want one,” he quickly returns.
    “I know,” she says, patting his leg, excusing him from the responsibility. But you never even presented one, her internal voice snaps, surprising herself with the now obvious disappointment, resentment maybe.
    “Like a bird, aren’t you, babe?” Jack begins, annoying her with the use of the affectionate term, still slipping it in every now and then as if to stir bygone emotions. “Free to fly at will. You definitely made sure you didn’t get tied down to me. Didn’t take my last name, wouldn’t move into my house.”
    Me? Bird? You’re the one who flew the coop! Moved out to the country. That was never in my plans. I’ve lived in Savannah all my life. And don’t think I don’t know that was your way of trying to strong-arm me. Getting me to do what you wanted me to. Again, she keeps the reply to herself, knowing it would only ignite a played-out argument.
    “Refused to get pregnant,” Jack continues. “It all makes sense, looking back. Even though I had you, I never really had you, did I?”
    “Jack, nobody gets into a relationship with the intention to breakup. I certainly did not get married to wind up divorced. And I don’t know why you insist on deflecting the real issues,” she adds, wishing she could take back the sentiment as quickly as it comes out of her mouth, knowing it certainly will not change anything.
    “And we’re back to this again. It’s my fault we’re divorced,” he says flippantly.
    “I never said that.” And if you don’t quit putting words in my mouth, she swallows the urge to rebuke, attempting to mediate further arguing, and frankly growing tired of the whole dysfunctional cycle they’ve been spinning in for the past several years. “I wasn’t feeding your needs. And you weren’t feeding mine. We both failed. It’s as simple as that.”
    “‘It takes two to start a relationship. It takes two to end it,’” he mocks her previously spoken viewpoints, “and blah, blah, blah.”
    She ignores his probing, having given up on the idea that they will ever be able to see eye to eye.
    “So you’re just going to give up on me? On us? I never pegged you for a quitter, Savannah,” he continues, displeased with her non-response.
    She huffs, an outward smirk forming, buffering her internal anger, recalling all the time spent trying to fix things, all of her requests to seek marriage counseling and all of his refusals, denials and rebuttals. “Goodnight Jack,” she says, meaning it this time, departing the steps for the front door.
    “That’s right. I’m sure you have work to do, as usual,” he sputters, standing from his seated position. “Can we at least be friends?” he calls after her.
    She stops at