Chapter 8: Before He Finds Out
I texted Carol that night from the bathroom with the shower running.
*Ryan got a message from Gerald Foss tonight.
He hid the screen.*
Her reply came the next morning at seven.
*Moving the filing date up.
Can you come in today at noon?*
I rearranged my afternoon and drove to Carol's office — a clean, quiet suite on the fourth floor of a building downtown, nothing on the door except the firm name in small silver letters.
Carol was exactly what her voice had suggested.
Sixties, silver-haired, reading glasses pushed up on her forehead.
She stood when I came in and shook my hand with both of hers.
"Sit down, Lauren."
I sat.
"Foss reaching out to Ryan directly means one of two things," she said, settling into her chair.
"Either Ryan told him something has changed, or Foss has noticed activity — possibly our title search — and is warning Ryan to get ahead of it."
"Which is worse?"
"They're equally bad.
Either way, Ryan may be preparing to move." She opened a folder on her desk.
"So we file today.
I've had the petition ready since yesterday.
I just need your signature on three documents."
She turned the folder toward me.
I looked at the top page.
*Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.* My name.
Ryan's name.
Emma's name.
My pen hovered.
"Take your time," Carol said.
I thought about the rearview mirror.
*Whatever Travis said to you today.*
I thought about the bracelet receipt.
*Always — R.*
I thought about Emma asking if Travis was still going to walk her home.
I signed all three documents.
Carol filed electronically before I left the building.
She walked me to the elevator.
"He'll be served within forty-eight hours," she said.
"Standard process — a process server goes to his workplace."
"His workplace."
"It's the most reliable location.
I know it feels public.
But it's also the most documented."
I nodded.
"Lauren." She held the elevator door.
"Once he's served, he will call you.
He may be angry.
He may be calm — sometimes the calm ones are harder to read.
Whatever he says, your only response is: *my attorney will be in touch.* Nothing else."
"My attorney will be in touch."
"That's all.
Can you do that?"
"Yes."
The elevator closed.
I drove back to the office and sat at my desk and answered emails and attended a two o'clock meeting and said the right things at the right moments and nobody in that room had any idea that forty-eight hours from now my husband was going to be handed a document that would end our marriage.
Ryan called at five-thirty.
"Running a little late," he said.
"Don't wait on dinner."
"Okay."
"How's Emma?"
"Good.
She had a good day."
"Tell her I'll be home by seven."
"I will."
"Love you," he said.
I paused one beat too long.
"Drive safe," I said, and hung up.
That night, after Emma was in bed, I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea I didn't drink.
The house was quiet.
Ryan was still out.
My phone lit up.
Travis.
*Carol told me she filed today.
You okay?*
I looked at the message.
*I think so,* I typed back.
*It doesn't feel real yet.*
*It will,* he wrote.
*But Lauren — once he's served, be careful.
Don't be alone with him if you can help it.*
*You think he'd —*
*I think he's been hiding things for over a year and he's smart enough to know what exposure means.
Just be careful.*
I set the phone down.
The front door opened at 7:14.
Ryan came in, hung up his jacket, and came to the kitchen doorway.
"You're up late," he said.
"Couldn't sleep."
He looked at me for a moment.
Then he crossed to the cabinet, poured a glass of water, and leaned against the counter.
"Lauren," he said.
"Is there something you want to say to me?"
The question was quiet.
Almost gentle.
I looked at him across the kitchen.
"No," I said.
"I'm just tired."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay," he said.
"Come to bed when you're ready."
He went upstairs.
I sat at the table until I heard the bedroom door close.
Then I picked up my phone and typed one more message to Travis.
*He knows something is coming.
I can feel it.*
Travis's reply came back in seconds.
May you like
*Then let it come.
You're ready.*
