She takes a sip of her drink as her eyes well up with tears. Her voice lowers as she speaks again, sounding shaky. “Why? I mean, what’s changed?”
“We have,” I tell her honestly. I lean against the counter, mimicking her stance. “We’re not the same people, and I don’t think we want the same things.”
“That’s what’s supposed to happen. You grow with people, Henry. Is there someone else? Oh my gosh, are you cheating on me?”
I wince. The urgency to end this is because I will never be in a position that would label me as a cheater. “No. I’m not cheating on you.” I level with her, look around her face and try to soften my reaction to her question. It’s a fair one. “I think we fight more than we get along. We’re not married, and we fight like we’re already sick and tired of each other. I don’t want that kind of relationship.”
She cuts me off, “Henry, that’s what couples do. They fight.” The problem is, maybe I just don’t want to fight withher.
She stalks away from me and into the living room.
“Denise, don’t walk away.”
She keeps moving toward the stairs to our bedroom. But before she gets to the first step, I yell, “I’m going to move my stuff out. Milo and I will stay at my sister’s place while we figure out what we want to do with the townhouse.”
She turns slowly to face me.
“Milo stays with me. I’m keeping the condo too.”
I tilt my head back, giving myself a minute to breathe and not just react. Maybe also to ask the universe for some strength right now, and remember I’m the one with the shitty timing. I’m breaking it off.
“That’s not how this works, Denise. We’re not married. I had this place before we were ever together. And Milo is my dog.”
She raises her eyebrows, and I know precisely the wrath that’s about to follow. “You’re going to give me this place, Henry, in exchange for dealing with canceling all our wedding plans that have been set into motion because, let's be honest, it’s going to fall to me to do anyway. I have to tell people I know that this diamond ring that appeared on my left finger for only a few short days is no longer there because you wanted take-backs. And Milo is just as much my fur-baby as he is yours. But since you technically had him before we started dating, then we can figure out visitation.”
“Again, Denise. This isn’t how this works. I’m not visiting him. I want him with me.”
“Then we figure out a shared schedule,” she says. And though it’s not ideal, she’s right; he’s been ours.
The clinking of metal tags pulls our attention to Milo, who’s just coming down from our bedroom. He knew we were talking about him. Smart pup.
“Hey, buddy boy, c’mere.” His long floppy ears slap as he shakes his body again before moving closer. His red-brown hair makes him look like a cross between a fox and a bear. Still, a puppy at only two years old. I brought Milo home a week before I had my first date with Denise, so he’s known her just as long, but he’s mine. I wouldn’t just let him go with her.
“We’ll share. Take him every other week. If one of us needs to travel, we’ll just figure it out along the way. It’s not a clean break, Denise. Are you going to be okay with that?”
She wipes underneath her eyes and presses the palms of her hands on her cheeks. Nodding, she says, “This is how it’s going to work, Henry.” She puts her hands on her hips, and immediately, I realize she needs to be in control of the rest of this discussion or she’s going to fall apart. And if it’s one thing I know about her, she won’t let me see her get emotional, not anymore. “I’m taking the townhouse. We will share Milo’s time, but I want him during holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving.”
“I never had any intention of hurting you, but I know I still have.” I take a deep breath and hate what I’m about to do. “You can have the townhouse. I’ll take Milo with me after I pack my things, and then we can work out a schedule.” I lean down and scratch behind his ears. “I’d like for us to agree that the minute we think about getting a pet sitter or if he is being neglected in any way that we give him to the other.” The truth is, she treats the dog better than most people, so I know he’ll be cared for when he’s with her. But at some point, she won’t want to be tied to me any longer, and when that happens, I want my dog.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “And I’m keeping the ring.”
I just shake my head at her and fight back a smile, because if I wanted to show off my genuine emotions right now, it would be a version of myself I’ve locked away. The part of me that only comes out when it’s warranted. This woman is raking me over the coals. It’s almost impressive if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end.
She’s hurt. I did that, and I’ll own it.
Three hours later, and I’ve packed up most of the belongings that I consider genuinely mine. The actual townhouse not included. It’s late, but Denise went to a friend’s house for the night, and I decided that I didn’t want to be here when she came home in the morning.
Most of my clothes fit into duffle bags, and all my suits I’ve draped in the cab of my truck. I put on Milo’s harness and secure him in the passenger seat. I’ve left most of the things we’ve bought together, like electronics and furniture. None of it important. Just things. And the only feeling I have in leaving all of it is relief. But when it came to the kitchen, I packed every pot and pan. Every knife and utensil. Everything I cook with, from the rice cooker to the meat thermometer, the cast-iron skillet to the pasta roller, and the set of cutting boards to the different-sized spatulas. It all comes with me.
This is the second time in my adult life I thought would end up one way, but took a drastic turn in another direction. Only this time, it’s on my terms, and while I feel sad and guilty to be ending a relationship, there’s a part of me that feels like this is exactly the right call. I have no plan, other than to listen to my gut and figure it out as it goes.
11
Giselle
“Kid,I need you to tell me if it’s a problem.”
“I’m telling you that, rightnow, I don’t know. My gut is telling me that it’s not…” I hesitate to say more because I know it’s going to be a problem. Just not the way Bea is thinking. “I like it here. It’s the first place that feels like a home. I don’t want to give this up. Plus, my shop is primed. I can probably open it next month. Griff is ready to sign the papers.”