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“They won’t do anything,” I told her. “They’ll help you grab your stuff and that’s it.”

“I hate violence,” she said slowly.

“There won’t be any violence,” I told her.

“You promise?” she asked, still looking at the guys.

They both mumbled out that yes they promised.

“We won’t touch him tonight,” Chester added with a bland smile.

Well, that did not bode well for Raoul the Creep, I mused.

It took her less than twenty minutes to grab her stuff from the creep’s apartment, and he never made an appearance, thank God. Chester threw two overstuffed suitcases in the trunk as Jovie slid back into her seat beside me.

“That’s all your stuff?” I asked her in surprise.

“I’m a minimalist. It suits me. You never know when you’ll need to bolt.”

I used to be like that. Before the wedding, my life could’ve fit into two suitcases, as well, so I don’t know why it threw me off. Perhaps because I couldn’t travel overnight without more junk than that nowadays. How quickly I was becoming accustomed to my strange new extravagant existence.

The instant Jovie entered my apartment something changed. Something about the space and something about my life. Both became more full of an intangible something I hadn’t known I’d been craving. Chester and Vincent were great company, all things considered, but Jovie was something else. Her vivacious energy was food I hadn’t known I was missing.

We stayed up way past my bedtime talking for hours and doing all the fun girly shit we could think of.

I got her hooked on DramaFever and she got me hooked on BTS. It was very easy. Both were highly addictive.

“Where’s your husband?” she asked at some point. We were drinking unsweetened green tea kale smoothies and she was braiding my hair.

I shrugged. “Working probably.” It was only a little lie.

“Did you tell him I was staying here?” she asked, pausing her quick motions against my scalp.

I shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. He rarely stays here. This place is mine.” I felt pleasure as I said it even if it wasn’t strictly the truth. It was true enough.

She was quiet for a while. “That’s cool,” she drew the words out. “But if he doesn’t stay here, where does he stay?”

I tensed up. I’d literally signed my rights off to give away candid details about my marriage, but I wanted to spill my guts to this girl I’d only just met. It was stupid, and I made myself exercise caution.

“Hey listen,” she finally said when it was obvious I wasn’t going to answer the question. “Forget I asked. I’m way too self-absorbed to be all up in your business.”

I smiled because that was bullshit.

She proved me right a minute later when she just couldn’t help but pry more. “Is marriage how you always hear it is?” she asked.

“How do you always hear it is?” I couldn’t help myself either. I wanted to hear her fourteen-year-old take on it.

“You know. Mistresses, resentful blowjobs, and fights about serious shit that really doesn’t mean anything. Like grownup stuff.”

We laughed for a long time at that, and I never did have to answer the question.

I went to bed after midnight with a smile on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun.

At about two a.m. there was a light knock on my bedroom door.

It was Jovie. She didn’t want to sleep alone, so I let her bunk with me. I didn’t mind. The big bed always felt too empty with just me in it.

Soon after she got settled, she started crying very quietly then louder until she’d worked herself into wrenching sobs.