He moves across the lawn faster than I thought possible, moving to hit me. I see it coming, slipping around him and off the steps before his fist can connect with my face. “You put her up to this, didn’t you? You fucking monster. Let me tell you something, Pearson, I’m not going to jail because of some girl I had off a bitch two decades ago.”
It takes everything in me not to hit him. I would gladly pound this man into the ground for what he’s done, but I know why he’s angry. And assaulting him, while tempting, doesn’t help me. Instead, I pull out my phone and call the police.
“Hello, emergency? I’m being harassed and attacked. I also happen to have the location of a known fugitive.”
Gary goes pale, realizing that I’m not even close to bluffing. He turns and runs for his car, speeding away. But I have his license plate, and I relay it to the police before assuring them that I’m okay and don’t need assistance.
Maybe there will be a car chase to watch later.
The whole encounter took five minutes, and I can’t help but laugh. He’s pathetic, and I’m glad that I was here instead of Rose to deal with him. He’s put her through enough.
That out of the way, I settle in on the steps again to wait for my wife.
13
Rose
Stepping into the afternoon air, I’m exhausted. The new part-time job I got at a restaurant has me on my feet for hours, and I’m not used to it. Cleaning the kitchen and washing dishes. Not glamorous, but it’s holding me over until I can find something better. I have a little money saved away that will keep me afloat for a while, but even with school off the table, I still need to figure out a way to make ends meet. Not exactly my dream life.
But sitting on my couch and doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the day sounds fucking amazing. Just not thinking about anything. Especially where I’m not and who I’m not with.
My phone rings as I get into my car. Not a number that I recognize, but after this day, it can’t actually get worse, so I answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Rose Brandt?”
“Speaking.” I lean my head back against the seat.
“Oh excellent, this is Nancy Carr. I’m in the registrar’s office at the University of New Hampshire.”
I swallow. “How can I help you?” I’d let them know that I couldn’t come back a few days ago. My professors had reached out, but there’s nothing they can do. Maybe next year I can finish if I work my ass off, eat ramen every night, and don’t sleep.
“We just wanted to check in with you. The semester starts in a couple of weeks, and you haven’t registered for your classes yet. Since you’re in your final year, we want to make sure that you get into the classes you need for graduation.”
Sadness seeps through my chest. “I’m sorry that the journalism school didn’t let you know. I couldn’t pay tuition this year so I’m taking a leave of absence.”
There’s a shocked silence on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, Ms. Brandt, I’m confused. According to our records, your tuition for the year was paid in full this past week.”
“What?”
“Your tuition is paid.”
My head is spinning. Heart pounding in my ears. “That’s not possible.”
She laughs, “Well, our system is up to date. So I’m sending the registration link to your email. Sign up for those classes soon so you can get the ones you need.”
“Thank you.” My voice sounds hollow.
She hangs up, and I can’t seem to get a grip on my panic. What the hell is going on? My brain refuses to believe that this is real. Did they take money out of my bank account and now I’m overdrawn by thousands?
I pull up my bank app on my phone, fingers shaking.
My jaw drops open. On the contrary, my bank account is stuffed to the gills. More money that I’ve ever seen in my life. By hundreds of thousands of dollars. What the actual fuck is going on?
I drive home in a daze. Did I hit my head on something? Am I actually dreaming, and I didn’t actually go to work today? That seems like a likely scenario, given that nothing about this makes sense. All I can do is keep shaking my head over and over again.
When I pull up to my house, I know that I’m dreaming. One hundred percent. Because Asher Pearson is sitting on my front steps waiting for me. My stomach flips, and everything in me fucking rejoices that he’s here. But he can’t be here. Why is he here?
Obviously he’s here about the divorce papers. They would have been delivered by now. And he wouldn’t want to do that without talking to me. I had hoped that he would, but I also knew that sending him the papers would let him know where to find me.