Divorced And Rich: Falling For The Mechanic

The afternoon sun was too bright. Adeline stood on the front porch, pruning shears in hand, snipping dead heads off the climbing roses. The physical work felt good. It was honest. Cut the dead stuff, let the living stuff breathe. A pickup truck rumbled up the gravel driveway. It was an older model, mud-splattered, with a dented bumper. She recognized the driver immediately. Mitch Wallace. Bailey's high school buddy. The one who still lived in his mom's basement and sold used car parts. Mitch parked the truck but didn't get out right away. He sat there, staring through the windshield like he was trying to memorize the dashboard. Adeline set the shears down. A cold feeling crept up the back of her neck. Finally, the passenger door opened. Mitch jumped out, avoiding her eyes. He reached into the cab and helped a small boy slide down to the ground. The boy was maybe nine. He had a shock of blonde hair-the exact same shade as Bailey's. He was wearing clothes that were too big for him, held up by a belt cinched tight. Mitch walked over, his feet dragging. The boy followed, looking around at the big house with wide, nervous eyes. "Hey, Adeline," Mitch mumbled, kicking at the gravel. He pulled a crumpled envelope from his back pocket. "Bailey told me to give you this. And, uh... this is Leo." Adeline didn't take the envelope. She stared at the boy. He had Fronia's chin. Bailey's eyes. It was like looking at a miniature version of the man she married. The boy looked up at her. "Are you Adeline? My dad said you would give me a place to stay." Dad. The word hit her like a physical blow. Mitch shoved the envelope toward her. "Look, I don't know the details, okay? Bailey just said to drop him off. He'll call you later." He practically threw the letter at her, jogged back to the truck, and peeled out of the driveway like the devil was chasing him. Leaving her alone with the boy. And the letter. Adeline looked down at the envelope. Her name was written on the front in Bailey's sloppy handwriting. She took a breath. The air felt thin. She ripped it open. The paper was cheap, torn from a legal pad. The ink was smudged. Adeline, I know you're going to be mad. But I need you to be understanding for once. Leo is my son. I met his mom a few years ago on a trip. It was a mistake. I was drunk. She can't take care of him anymore, so he's coming to live with us. Don't make a big deal out of it. He's a good kid. Just treat him like family. I know you couldn't give me kids, so maybe this is God's way of giving us the family we always wanted. See you soon, Bailey Adeline read it twice. The words "couldn't give me kids" blurred, then sharpened into focus. Her chest tightened. It felt like a vice was slowly crushing her ribs. She couldn't breathe. The air was gone. Three years. Three years of separate bedrooms. Of being called cold. Of enduring Fronia's hints about her "barren womb." And the whole time, he had a kid somewhere. A living, breathing get-out-of-jail-free card that proved it was all him, not her. She folded the letter. One fold. Two folds. Perfectly aligned. She slid it back into the envelope and put it in her pocket. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. The anger was so hot it burned itself out instantly, leaving nothing but ash. "Ma'am?" Leo shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Do I go inside?" Adeline looked at him. He was just a kid. He hadn't asked to be born into this mess. He looked scared. She pulled out her phone. She dialed the number she had called yesterday. "David? It's Adeline Mcconnell." Her voice was steady. Completely hollow. "Start the divorce. Today. I don't want a settlement. I don't want alimony. I just want out. Immediately." She hung up. The pressure in her chest released, leaving a strange, hollow echo. She looked at the boy. "Go inside, Leo. Your grandmother is going to be very happy to see you." She held the door open. He walked in, his sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor. Adeline stayed on the porch for a moment longer. She looked out at the perfectly manicured lawn, the expensive cars, the house that had been her prison. She was done.