Every Wrong Reason

“But isn’t that the point? If he’s trying to get me back, shouldn’t I understand what he’s doing? So far he’s done nothing but make this more miserable than it needs to be and hurt me beyond repair. If Nick didn’t want the divorce, he wouldn’t have gotten the lawyer he did or write the list of demands that he did! If Nick didn’t want the divorce, he would never have moved out of our house!”


Jared’s upper lip curled back with distaste. “That shows you exactly how little you know him.” I opened my mouth to launch into another argument, but before I could say anything he added, “And it shows how very little you realize the damage you’ve done.”

He turned around and stalked out of the building, forgetting his coffee on the counter. I watched him go, wondering if I should chase after him with the abandoned cups or if I should leave before he came back in for them. In the end, I just sat there and he never came back.

The confused barista eventually threw the coffee away.

“God, he’s an asshole,” Kara declared.

“Such an asshole.”

“How dare he!” she continued, then launched into a rant about his stupidity and how he had never done anything with his life and never would.

I only half-listened though. I couldn’t get his words out of my head or write him off so completely.

It shows how little you know him.

It shows how very little you realize the damage you’ve done.

I told my students all the time that if they wanted to do anything with their lives, they had to take responsibility for their actions. That was why I chose the classics I did. The Scarlet Letter… Romeo and Juliet… Ethan Frome.

I practically preached responsibility.

And yet I had done nothing but blame and blame and blame Nick for destroying our marriage… for making our divorce as awful as possible.

I let him take all of the blame without ever owning up to my end.

Kara and I finished our coffee and then headed off to do some minor Black Friday shopping. But I never got over Jared’s accusation.

And I couldn’t shake off the bitter feeling that he was right.





Chapter Sixteen


23. He doesn’t think things through.




Can we meet for dinner?

I want to talk.

Please, Kate. Just hear me out.

I slid my cell phone back and forth in my palm and looked at my last hour class. I had the strongest desire to ask their opinion on Nick’s out of the blue invitation. Sure, they were freshman… young… immature… pimpled. But maybe if I explained the situation to them they would have some kind of genius insight and give me the advice I had been searching for.

Or maybe I had accidentally started taking LSD and I could no longer separate my hallucinations from reality.

Was that possible?

I looked down at my pink thermos.

Maybe these little bastards were slipping it to me when I wasn’t looking.

“Mrs. Carter!” a gangly kid named Gabe shouted from the back of the classroom. I was so startled by his outburst that all I could do was look at him. He took that as permission to continue. “Do you want us to answer all of these questions? Or just the ones we know?”

I blinked at him. “This is a test.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if you wanted us to guess or not.” He rubbed his nose with his palm and I could hear the slick slurping of snot from here.

“You’re not supposed to have to guess, Gabe. You were supposed to study last night so that you would know all of the answers today.” And honestly, had he never taken a test before? Did he really not understand the concept?

He canted his head to the side and looked as confused as ever. “So you do want us to guess?”

Some of his classmates snickered at his bewilderment and I shushed them. “Yes, Gabe. Answer all of them. You might even get some right.”

“I’m not going to get them right,” he mumbled.

I pressed my lips together to keep from commenting further. I squeezed my phone between my hands and decided it would be a very, very bad idea to ask these kids.

They couldn’t possibly understand Nick’s intentions any more than they could the Canterbury Tales. And that wasn’t saying very much.

I held my phone under my desk and discreetly typed, Where?

If he said Starla’s I would use this in court against him.

His response was immediate. The Purple Pig.

Ooh, fancy. I taunted.

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