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For some reason, if time has passed, they are less likely to turn away because of a body.
The house would be worth another two million at least, some of which I was thinking of using to build on to Noah’s house, make it livable for a family. Put on a garage so I could get in my car without worrying about bears. It was the right place to raise children. Surrounded by the wilderness in a house their daddy built with his own two hands, filled with furniture three generations of Smith men had carved. Maybe if we had a son – or a daughter – Noah could bring them to his workshop, teach them how to work with the tools, make things that could last too, be passed down to future generations.
Bertram had left me alone.
For the most part.
I’d gotten a note about his upcoming election campaign that, in very careful wording, told me to butt out.
Which I was happy to do.
I was so far beyond that. Beyond him. Beyond the woman he once knew me as.
I was simply waiting for the day when he thought he no longer needed to have any contact with me at all.
I had a feeling it would be after the ring on my fourth finger had a new ring sitting with it.
We weren’t in a rush, though, to be married. It was all paperwork.
I loved him.
He loved me.
That was what was important.
Invitations, centerpieces, cakes, bands, that was all the superficial stuff.
We’d get around to it. Eventually.
I was, though, a bit anxious for a new last name, if I were being perfectly honest.
I would become Jennifer Smith. A more average, unassuming name I couldn’t have come up with myself.
No more tires to politicians, to old money, to big corporations.
Just a woman. A wife. A, hopefully, mother.
The front door opened and slammed, making me walk out of the kitchen, finding Miller walking through my entryway, making me follow to find her throwing herself down on the couch in the great room like she was a weighted, boneless mess.
“Bellamy?” I asked with a knowing smile.
“Bellamy,” she agreed with a pained whimper as she pressed her palms into her eyes, likely banging with her hangover.
If we had children, what an odd, ragtag group of aunts and uncles they would have with this group of people that were so close we couldn’t call them anything other than family.
I noticed as she reached for the coffee and pain medicine I handed her that there were little pig noses clinging to her earlobes.
And the smile then was huge.
Smith – 1.5 years
“What? I thought you would be happy!” Nia said, rolling her eyes.
“That you hacked into doctor records, invading not only my – but Jenny’s – privacy?” I shot back.
Nia wasn’t great with boundaries.
Any information that could be found, to her, meant it should be.
Most of us didn’t live in that world. We knew that some shit was private, some issues were meant to be brought up between couples, not to one party, betraying the other.
“I just thought you would like to know,” she said, shrugging a shoulder.
“You’re saying that as though Jenny wouldn’t have told me herself.”
“But if she was going to tell you, wouldn’t she have told you before she set up the appointment?”
Alright, that was a sound bit of logic. It didn’t make her snooping any less invasive, but it did raise some questions.
Like why Jenny set up an appointment with her gyno without telling me.
Sure, we had shit pop up that we didn’t always talk about the second it happened. It wasn’t like I knew the date of her last breast exam or anything. But this was different.
This was an appointment to get her IUD taken out.
Next week.
And she hadn’t discussed it with me.
That was, well, not like her. Not like us.
We didn’t do things behind each other’s backs, make plans without comparing notes.
So, yeah, Nia needed to learn to keep her nose out of our medical records, but it also looked like I needed to have a talk with Jenny.
A few hours later, long enough that Nia wouldn’t think I was rushing home to confront my wife even if that was exactly what I was doing, I made my way to our house.
Formerly, my house.
Half of it was tented, something I worked on in my off time. The addition. Off the side. Then eventually up. We’d have to take over the spare bedroom for the staircase, but we’d be gaining new rooms on the second floor, so it was a sacrifice we were willing to make even if Jenny had been using that as her workspace since moving in after the wedding.
“Jenny?” I called as soon as I opened the door.
“You’re home early,” she said, walking out of the bedroom with furrowed brows. “Is everything alright?”
“Is something wrong with your IUD?”
