Page 6 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Like my heart is an inconvenience.

Like my life is an accessory he can toss into a drawer when he’s bored.

I end it right there.

“Clara, don’t be rash?—”

“Rash? That’s really not a word I’d toss around carefully when you’ve apparently been fucking other people, Geoff. But at least I can get rid of that ugly fucking island now.”

“What? You love that island!”

“No, I don’t. And you know what else?” I ask, and I’m so shocked I am almost laughing. “I don’t think I love you, either. I’m not even that mad. Stephanie, good luck to you. Oh, and just so you know, he farts in his sleep,” I tell her, noting the way her nose scrunches up.

I feel lighter.

Emotional, sure.

But also, I feel like I dodged a bullet.

“I’ll have my people pack your things and ship them to Stephanie’s place by the end of the day. Goodbye, Geoffrey.”

“Wait! My ring!” he yells.

Now, I actually laugh. I turn to look at him, this man who is so far beneath me morally that I wonder how I ever let myself get tricked into agreeing to marry him, and I shake my head.

“It’s my mother’s ring, you asshole. Security will be here in ten minutes. I suggest you be gone before then,” I tell him, simultaneously sending a text to the doorman.

See, the thing is—Geoffrey has a good job and a lot of ambition, but the money? The real money?

It’s mine.

Or, well, it’s my parents' money.

But I have quite the healthy trust fund, and since I’m thirty-five, I have total access to it.

That’s probably why Geoffrey proposed to me on my birthday.

The thing is, he doesn’t even look shaken until I start walking toward the door.

Then his voice changes. He gets sharp. Mean in that controlled way that I loathe.

You know, the way some men do when they realize they can’t charm their way into control anymore.

“You’ll regret this,” he says, following me.

I stop at the doorway and turn back.

I expect to feel something—fear, grief, panic.

Instead, I just feel light.

Like I’ve been holding my breath for months and just now remembered how to inhale.

“My only regret is wasting the time I did on you,” I say, and I walk out.

I take my mother’s ring off in the elevator.

By the time I hit the lobby, my fingers are shaking.