All Chapters of MY EX HUSBAND’S REGRET : Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

I didn’t wait until I got home to call Natalie back. The second I stepped out of the building onto the Fifth Avenue, I hit redial, pressing the phone against my ear hard enough to hurt, but who cares?The street was packed with people rushing home from work, a river of suits and briefcases and exhaustion flowing around me.Pick up, pick up, pick up.“Ivy.” Natalie answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”“Just left work. What did Marcus find? What’s wrong?”“Are you somewhere you can talk? Like actually talk?”My stomach dropped. “Nat, you’re scaring me.”“I know. I’m sorry. But this isn’t a phone conversation. Can you come over?”“Now?”“Yeah. Please. I’ll order food. We can eat while we talk.”I looked at the subway entrance, then in the direction of Queens where my empty apartment waited. I didn’t want to go home, and sit alone with whatever bomb Natalie was about to drop.“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I said.The subway ride to Natalie’s neighborhood felt endless. My mind

Friday came faster than I expected. The week had passed in a blur of new employee training, content calendars, brand guidelines, and trying to remember everyone’s names without looking at my phone under the desk. Work was actually good. Better than good. It gave me something to focus on besides the wreckage of my personal life, somewhere to put all the energy I’d been wasting on crying and replaying those horrible birthday party moments in my head.Sarah was a good manager. Direct and no nonsense but fair, the kind of person who would told you exactly what she wanted and left you alone to deliver it. She’d already given me two projects to run independently, social media campaigns for two of Rhode Enterprises’ smaller brands, and seemed genuinely pleased with my initial ideas.“You’re picking this up fast,” she’d said on Thursday, looking over my campaign proposal. “I expected at least two weeks before you were ready for independent work.”It felt really good to hear that. Like maybe I

Monday morning arrived with sharp cold that reminded you winter was coming whether you were ready for it or not. I was already up at six, dressed by seven, sitting at my small desk with a cup of coffee, with my laptop opened, searching for divorce lawyers in Manhattan. The kind that were good but not so expensive that I’d burn through the last of my savings before the case even started.It was harder than I expected. Every website looked the same with professional headshots and promises of aggressive representation and confidential consultations. Words designed to make desperate people feel like they were in capable hands.I didn’t feel capable of anything right now. But I was trying.I narrowed it down to three names. All women, which felt important for reasons I couldn’t fully articulate. All with strong reviews and reasonable consultation fees. I sent emails to all three before leaving for work, explaining my situation briefly and asking for the earliest available appointment.The