He Said It Was Just Paper. I Left. novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Active Status

Yvette finds the marriage on the county site and Dalton shows up with roses and a plan to keep the wedding. Willa learns the house she paid for is owned by Dalton and Posy.

Yvette opened the door of our apartment in her pajama pants with a spatula in her hand.

She took one look at my face and put the spatula on the shelf.

"Sit," she said. "Tell me which part to hit him for."

I sat on the couch with the certificate on my knees and told her.

She did not interrupt once, which was how I knew it was bad.

When I finished, she took the paper, read it, and set it on the coffee table very gently.

"I'm going to drive to his house," she said, "and I'm going to throw the oat milk through his window."

"You can't. You're on shift at six."

"I'll do it before my shift."

I laughed, and then I was crying, and she sat down and held my head against her shoulder until I stopped.

"Is it even real?" she said. "Some guy could print this at a copy shop."

That was the first thing all night that gave me hope.

She picked up her phone and opened the county's public records page.

We typed in his name.

The record came up in less than a minute: Lowell, Dalton R. Married. Spouse: Lundvall, Posy A.

The status said Active.

Yvette put the phone face down on the cushion.

"Okay," she said. "It's real."

Someone knocked on the door hard enough to rattle it.

We both knew who it was.

"I'm not here," I said.

"You're here, and I'm holding the door."

She put the chain on and opened it two inches.

Dalton stood in the hallway with a bunch of white roses and the same tired face he had worn in the kitchen.

"Yvette," he said. "I need to talk to my fiancée."

"She's not your fiancée tonight. Try her again in a year."

"Willa." He leaned to see past her. "Please. I'm not angry. I just want you to be home."

I stood up and went to the door, but I kept the chain on.

"I'm not coming home."

"Then let me say it here." He lowered his voice. "I called my lawyer. We annul the marriage on Monday, nobody sees it, nobody ever has to know."

"Your lawyer works on Saturdays?"

"He does for me." He held out the roses. "We keep the wedding. We keep the date. The venue is paid, and my mother has already ordered your dress alterations."

"I ordered my own alterations."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," I said. "That's the problem."

He lowered the flowers and looked at me for a long moment.

Then he did something I had never seen him do.

He stopped being kind.

"You'll regret this," he said. "You're pregnant, you have no savings and you live in a one-bedroom with a girl who cleans bedpans."

"Two bedrooms," Yvette said. "And I clean them well."

"I have savings," I said. "I gave you fifty-two thousand dollars of them for the house."

His eyes flicked down, then up.

"That's in our house, Willa. It's safe."

"Then I'll come get my things on Sunday."

"Sunday's not good."

"Why not?"

"My mother's coming over."

"Then I'll see her there."

He set the roses on the hall carpet and went down the stairs without another word.

Yvette closed the door and slid the chain back on.

"Fifty-two thousand," she said. "You never told me the number."

"I didn't want you to say what you're about to say."

"I'm going to say it anyway." She sat on the arm of the couch. "Whose name is on the house?"

"Mine and his. It's our house."

"Did you see the closing papers?"

"He did the closing. I was at work. He brought me a pen at lunch and I signed where the sticky tabs were."

"Willa."

"I know."

She opened her laptop on the coffee table and typed.

The county auditor's site had a page for every property in the county, and the owner's name was printed at the top.

I did not need her to read it aloud, but she did.

"Owner of record, 418 Maple Run Road. Dalton R. Lowell and Posy A. Lowell, husband and wife."

The date at the bottom was seven months ago.

I had been standing in that kitchen last week stirring soup.

I had been planning a nursery in the room at the top of the stairs.

My name was nowhere on the page.

My fifty-two thousand dollars was in every wall.

Yvette shut the laptop and looked at me.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Now I do want the spatula."

I wiped my face with both hands.

"No," I said. "I want the house."

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