“Eric will get back on his feet.”

I let things go.

Again.

And again.

And again.

By our sixth anniversary, I felt like a guest in my own house.

Then Celeste returned.

That was when everything broke.

PART 3

Grant Wanted A Divorce But He Wanted My House Too

Grant told me he wanted a divorce on a Tuesday evening.

He had just returned from a three-day “business conference” in Miami.

I had already seen photographs of him at a hotel bar with Celeste.

One showed her hand resting on his chest.

Another showed them kissing.

I did not confront him with the pictures.

I wanted to see what he would say.

He walked into the bedroom.

He closed the door.

Then he sighed.

“Allison, I’m not happy.”

I was sitting on the bed.

“I know.”

He frowned.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

He had prepared a speech.

My answer disrupted it.

He sat down.

“I think we’ve grown apart.”

“Okay.”

His frown deepened.

“That’s all?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

He rubbed his hands together.

“I expected this to be harder.”

I almost laughed.

“You’ve already made it easier.”

He looked at me.

“What does that mean?”

I opened my phone.

I showed him the photographs.

His face changed.

“Allison.”

I locked the screen.

“We don’t need to pretend.”

“It isn’t what you think.”

“It rarely is.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

Silence.

Then Grant said something extraordinary.

“I want this to stay respectful.”

I stared at him.

“Fine.”

“No lawyers destroying everything.”

“We’ll both need lawyers.”

“I mean aggressive lawyers.”

“Grant.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Then came the real reason he wanted cooperation.

“The house.”

I looked at him.

“What about it?”

“I think we should agree that Mom can stay.”

“For how long?”

He hesitated.

“Indefinitely.”

I laughed.

He did not.

“You’re serious?”

“She’s lived here for years.”

“In my house.”

“Our house.”

“No.”

His face tightened.

“There you go again.”

“Again?”

“Acting like I’m some guest.”

“Legally, you are not an owner.”

“We’ve been married eight years.”

“Yes.”

“I contributed to this home.”

“You lived here.”

“I paid for things.”

“You paid household expenses.”

“I renovated the basement.”

“My inheritance paid for most of that renovation.”

He stood.

“This is exactly why we failed.”

I stared at him.

“Because I understand property records?”

“Because you keep score.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“I started keeping score after your family forgot whose house they were living in.”

Grant walked away.

The next morning, I hired Rebecca.

She asked me to bring every document connected to the property.

Deed.

Inheritance records.

Insurance.

Tax statements.

Renovation invoices.

Household contributions.

I did.

She reviewed everything.

Then she looked at me.

“The house is strong separate-property territory.”