My Husband Kept Sending Packages to Ex, So I Filed for Divorce novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: My Own Key

Mitch didn't say anything for a while.

Outside, a bird was going off.

"Okay," he said finally.

"Okay?"

"I'm not going to argue with you about having your own key, Becca. I'd be an idiot." He lay back down and looked at the log ceiling. "I'm a little bit of an idiot. But not that much."

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm doing math." He turned his head on the pillow. "How long's a lease?"

"A year."

"So, one year." He nodded at the ceiling. "I can do a year. I did six on the board."

"It's not a waiting period, Mitch."

"I know it isn't. I'm still going to count it."

I found the apartment in July.

It was a one-bedroom on the second floor of a brick building in Kettering, with a little balcony over a maple tree and a kitchen with a window.

It was on Route 14.

Stop sixty-three.

I'd been delivering to that building for six years.

I knew the buzzer that stuck and the lady on the first floor with the parakeet.

The manager handed me the lease across a card table in the lobby.

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