"What's wrong with me?"
"You never let her go."
Derek's brow furrowed. "I told you I'd set things straight with her—"
"You did." I cut him off. "You said it last night. You said it again this morning. But you stay up waiting for her messages, you drive out to find her before dawn, and there's a transfer record on your phone for the old estate, labeled Kitty's House. Derek, how am I supposed to believe you?"
His jaw tightened.
"I'll handle it."
"Handle what?" I looked at him. "Handle her, or handle me?"
Derek said nothing.
I turned and walked into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and took out a suitcase. Three years of marriage, and I didn't own much. A few clothes, some everyday things. Not even enough to fill one case.
Derek followed me in, watching me pack.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to my mom's, for now."
"Ruby, don't do something rash."
I ignored him and zipped the suitcase shut. He reached out and pressed his hand flat on it. "Let's talk this through."
"Talk about what?"
"About us."
"There's nothing complicated about us." I looked at him. "You don't love me. You love Kitty. You married me because she didn't come back. Now she's back, so I'll step aside. Are you satisfied?"
His hand pressed down on the case, knuckles bone-white.
"There's really nothing between her and me."
"Then do you dare say it to her face, with me standing right there—that you have no feelings for me?"
He didn't move.
I waited. Ten seconds, twenty, half a minute.
"You don't dare, do you?" I pried his hand off. "Then don't stand in my way."
I carried the case to the door, and Derek caught up, blocking it.
"Ruby, listen to me—"
"Move."
"No. You're not leaving today."
I looked up at him. His eyes had gone red, his voice gone hoarse. "I know I was wrong. But you can't just walk out like this. Three years of marriage—you say divorce and that's it?"
"Three years of marriage, and you carried someone else in your heart the whole time. Did I say a word?"
Derek's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
I pushed past him and pulled the door open.
Kitty was standing in the hallway.
She still had that document envelope in her hands. She clearly hadn't left at all.
She glanced at the case in my hand, then at Derek behind me, and her face arranged itself into worry. "Ruby, where are you going?"
I ignored her and dragged the case out.
Kitty turned to Derek. "Derek, what happened between you two? Is it because of me—"
"It's none of your business," Derek said.
But his eyes had already given him away.
I saw it clearly. When he looked at Kitty, there was a light in his eyes. That light—he'd never once had it when he looked at me.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in.
Derek rushed over, and in the last second before the doors closed, he shoved his hand in to stop them. "Ruby, give me three days. I'll get everything sorted out."
"There's no need."
