It’s been a long month, but when I drive back into Kilborough, knowing I never have to go back to Boston and my old apartment again, I finally feel like I can breathe.
Kyle’s betrayal still stings when I let myself think about it, but I’ve reached a point where I’m able to thank my lucky fucking stars that I found out what he was getting up to and got out of there.
And he can thank his lucky fucking stars that my tests came back all clear.
He’s tried reaching out through email a few times, and the only time I responded was to demand his test results, which he sent—after assuring me that he always used a condom, like that makes any goddamn difference.
I’ve never been so happy for our dry spell.
It’s surprising how easy it is for me to cut him out after twelve years together, and maybe it’s because the fucker cheated on me the way he did, or the relationship was already over and I hadn’t realized, but walking away was easier than it should’ve been.
Staying away will be the hard part, because even though I think I’m over it … our relationship was like a warm blanket. It was familiar. That doesn’t exactly scream madly in love. I thought the moment I fell out of love with him was the moment I saw him with someone else, but maybe it was sooner than that.
Sex is just sex.
The betrayal of trust is what stung. The failure of not being able to keep my husband satisfied stung. But as more and more people find out about the divorce, and more and more people expect me to be devastated about the split, it’s made me think that I don’t know what my marriage was.
I’m angry and embarrassed, but I don’t think I’m heartbroken.
Since I took everything I wanted from our apartment on that first day, it means I’ve been able to mostly avoid seeing him for the month I spent in Boston, crashing with a work friend as I tied up loose ends.
I resigned from my job at the high school we both work at, where thankfully he kept his distance after I threatened to send the link to his OnlyFans to the school board. It’s not something I ever would have done, and the fact he believed me shows he didn’t know me the way I thought he did.
All of the people I thought were my friends disappeared, and it became obvious very quickly that I had no life left in Boston. So as soon as my notice period at work was up and our apartment hit the market, I left.
Once the divorce is organized, I’ll never have to think of Kyle again.
Which is a relief, because I’m going to need to use that brainpower to figure out what the hell I do now.
Normally that line of thinking would send me spiraling into a panic, but since talking to Art, I have a better outlook on life.
This isn’t a failure.
This is an opportunity.
Or whatever bullshit he’s been feeding me.
I park down from Killer Brew, where I’m meeting Art and two other guys. They’re part of the DMC—the Divorced Men’s Club—which at first I thought was a group of depressed dudes sitting around feeling sorry for themselves, but is actually more of a title in theory than practice. We’re just guys who are in varying stages of divorce—or in Orson’s case, who have lost their significant other—who understand the shit stereotypes that go along with what we’ve been through.
We’re a safe space for each other.
When Art first told me that, I hadn’t wanted to listen, but I’m glad now that I reached out.
I immediately spot Art, Orson, and Griffin as I approach the outdoor café and make my way over to them. Art and I were friends in high school, and Griffin was a few years older than us. Orson only moved here shortly after I left, so I don’t know him well outside of the group texts and the one and only time before now that I met up with them.
What I do know is that these guys are so different, there’s no way we’d have become friends outside of this group, but without them, I might not have made it through the last month without going back to my fucker of an ex. I’m not clear on how many other guys are in the group, but from what Art says, it’s a lot. There’s no way I’m ready to face all that.
“Payne!” Art calls loudly across the cafe. Since the Kilborough Brewery has been in Art’s family for years, everyone knows him, and everyone knows how loud he is.
I grin and join them at their table. “It’s official, I’m a kil-boy again.”
Art and Orson pretend to applaud while Griffin smiles softly.
“Well done,” he says. “You feeling good about the move?”
“Nope. But my apartment is on the market, and with any luck, I’ll have the down payment on my own place soon.” I don’t mention that we made a lucky investment with that one. On two teachers’ salaries, we hadn’t been able to pay the mortgage down as much as I would have liked, but the place is worth a lot more now than what we paid for it. Thank you to a decade’s worth of inflation.
I place my order with the server when she comes around, then turn back to the guys.
“Any more luck with finding a job?” Orson asks.
There are no open positions for a high school gym teacher in Kilborough, and since it’s all I’ve ever done, I don’t have experience with anything else. “I still want to do something with kids. Something sporty. I haven’t figured out what yet.”
“And you’re staying at your brother’s place?”
“Yep. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do for now.”
All three of them have offered to help, but Orson only has a one-bedroom place, Griffin still lives with his wife, who will become his ex-wife once their son goes off to college, and Art and I tried living together for a month after high school, so I already know he’s a pain in the ass and total control freak to share a space with.
So for the time being, I’m going to be sleeping in a tiny single bed, while my nieces share the other.
Fun times.
I glance toward the counter and see my brother’s best friend, Beau, waiting. After he orders, he scans the room, and I hold up my hand in a wave to get his attention. His eyes widen when they land on me, and he hesitates for a second before making his way over.
“Hey,” he says when he reaches us. “You’re … I, umm, didn’t know you were visiting.”
“I’m not.”
His forehead creases in confusion. “Then …”
“I’m back for good.”
“You’re what?”
I laugh because the poor guy looks legitimately in shock. “Moving back. I’ll be staying with Marty for a bit, so I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“And Kyle?”
Yikes. As positive as I am about moving forward, having to explain the breakup over and over isn’t going to be a good time. “We split.”
“Oh.” Something crosses his face that I can’t work out, and then it disappears when his order is called. “That’s … I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be,” Art cuts in. “It’s good news, not bad. Sometimes we have to cut the shit out of our lives in order to level up to our best selves.”
I grin at him because he’s always saying stuff about spreading our wings and exiting our cocoons or whatever. Beau clearly doesn’t know how to take him.
“It’s cool.” I wave his concern away. “Thanks, but Art’s right. This is a good move for me.”
Beau hurries to agree. “Of course, yeah. Well, I’m glad, then. I’m actually on my way to meet Marty now, but I’ll see you soon?”
“For sure.”
His face breaks into a wide smile that’s impossible not to smile back at. It defines his jaw and lights up his blue eyes behind the clear-rimmed glasses he always wears. “Right, okay.” He backs up. “See you then.”
As soon as he’s gone, Orson laughs. “Wow.”
“What?”
He rubs at his stubble. “The man was very nervous around you.”
“He’s always been like that.”
Art nods. “It’s true. Though it was worse when we were younger.”
Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about that. The stuttering and blurting out random comments. I’d forgotten because the past few years, it had all but disappeared. What’s brought it back now?
Griffin hums. “Weird or not, he’s hot.”
“Agreed,” Art says. “I’d bone him.”
“Is he single?” Griffin asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure actually. He was the last time I saw him, and Marty hasn’t mentioned anything.”
“Maybe when Poppy and I officially split, he’ll be interested in a date.”
I eye Griffin. He’s the more serious out of us all, with the least relationship experience, but he’s gorgeous, with dark brown hair, neat stubble, and insane piercing blue eyes.
Art’s distinguished, with Portuguese good looks, the kind of presence that demands attention and an attitude to match.
Orson’s the oldest of us, with a short beard that has more silver than black, but his hair is still dark. His face is lined in a friendly way, and he looks rough around the edges, but is the biggest sweetheart I’ve ever met.
I’m … well, the laid-back one out of us all. Well, usually. The whole cheating thing was hard to be laid-back about.
And trying to picture any of them with Beau … I can’t see it.
“How much longer until the split now?” I ask Griffin.
“End of summer. Once Felix leaves for college, we’ll separate and then tell him when he’s back for his first break.”
“No second thoughts?”
Griffin shakes his head. “None. Poppy was a great wife, but we’re both ready to get on with our lives now.”
“And you don’t think you should do it before Felix leaves so you can work through it together?”
“I’d rather wait until he’s off at college and has plenty of friends there to distract him.”
“You really think he’ll be that upset?” Art asks.
“Yep.” Griffin stares at his tea. “He doesn’t like change and can be a bit … dramatic.”
I’ve gotten enough of a read on the situation through our texts, so I remind him, “You and Poppy are going to support each other through this, and you’ll both be there for Felix like you always were. You guys will adjust.” And at least Poppy never cheated on you.
That part I keep to myself.
“True.” He sighs. “But fuck I’m ready to get laid again. It’s been years.”
They’ve stayed exclusive even with the plan to split because they haven’t wanted anything to get back to their son, and while Griffin is … let’s go with quiet, it makes me respect him to be putting his kid first like that.
It’s been a month since I left Kyle, and I haven’t had sex since. Truthfully, it’s the last thing on my mind after what he did, but I know it won’t take long for that urge to come back.
The urge will need to wait a little longer though because while I’m staying with Marty, I’m putting all my energy into family time. My brother, my sister-in-law, and my nieces are going to be spoiled filthy rotten. Well, with love. My money only extends so far right now, which is why I can’t find my own place. Yet.
We finish up, and I tell the guys I’ll see them next week before I head for my car. It’s late enough that Lizzy should be home with the girls, and the thought of seeing my nieces immediately boosts my mood. They’re adorable. And full-on.
I reach their place and pull up by the curb before grabbing the things I’ve brought with me on this trip. Most of our furniture I left with my fuckhead ex, so the things I do have are minimal. And there’s no way I wanted to take that bed.
I let myself inside with the key they gave me.
Lizzy’s on the couch flipping through the TV, while the girls are playing at the LEGO table behind her.
“Uncle Payne!” Bridget cries and jumps to her feet. She throws herself across the room and into my arms. I melt, and holding that much pure sunshine reminds me my life is still awesome.
“What are you guys building?” I ask.
“A military base. The aliens are coming.”
“We better get to work, then.” I spare Lizzy a quick smile as she watches on with amusement, then slump down next to Soph, who’s eyeing me strangely. It always takes a minute for her to warm up. “Remember me?”
She drops her head and watches me from under her eyebrows, and it’s so adorable I do my best not to laugh.
“Is this a new one?” Bridget asks, angling my forearm to see my most recent tattoo.
“It is. I made sure it had lots of detail, just for you.”
Her face lights up. “I’m going to grab my markers.”
“You okay?” Lizzy asks the moment Bridget is out of the room.
“As well as I can be. It still hurts sometimes, but I’m ready to move on from it all.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“Careful. I’m getting a whole single bed—you might never be rid of me.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I really do appreciate this.”
“I know you do. I still can’t believe—” She cuts off, face tense, and I know the only reason she’s holding back her thoughts is because of the girls. Lizzy has subjected Marty and me both to long rants about that fucker.
Listening to her swear like a sailor has been enjoyable, at least.
Bridget returns with a pencil case full of markers, so I yank my shirt over my head and lie facedown on the floor. I guess the aliens have been forgotten about already.
Soph eventually joins her coloring in, and I’m so peaceful while they work that I start to drift off. That is until Soph speaks. “Where’s Uncle Ky?”
Urg, straight to the heart.
Lizzy jumps in to explain that Uncle Ky won’t be around anymore while I bury my face in my folded arms.
I’m one hundred percent over him.
Mostly.
But in moments like this, all I can think of is why?
He destroyed our lives.
And I’m the one left to deal with the fallout.
