Placing a small kiss on his lips, I grabbed my bag before heading to the elevator.
Part of me was ecstatic at the idea of Gavin being permanently out of my life, but annoyingly, there was a part of me, a stupid but still rational part, that didn’t want to see him dead despite all he’s done. And maybe that makes me a good person, but in reality, I know it’s just the years of feeling like I owed something to him stopping me.
After taking Beckham up on his suggestion, I found the rest of my day was relatively relaxing, despite me watching Kira pout endlessly as she was annoyed that Gaslight Gavin wasn’t going to be fully kicked to the curb.
Currently, in my car, I was planning to make my way to Beckham’s. However, I reluctantly found myself passing by my old home, parking in the driveway.
I always wondered what it would look like to see our children running through the yard. The memory is somewhat distant now, not filling my heart in any way that it previously did.
Stepping out of my car, I hesitated as I walked toward the door of what used to be my home. Thankfully, Gavin wasn’t here, but I was sure I wouldn’t have much time to reminisce and grab a few more of my things to take to Beckham’s.
After entering the quiet home, I ascended the steps, sighing as I gazed over to the guest bedroom, which was my refuge when my fights got bad with Gavin. It was my safe space in the home that should’ve been a safe space already.
Thinking back to the number of times I found myself in this room, I tried not to rationalize why I thought fighting once a week and sleeping separately every other week was a relationship worth fighting for, worth crying endless nights over.
Grabbing a bag, I went into my closet to gather more of my belongings. Thankfully, Gavin wasn’t too petty to throw out my clothes or rip and burn them like I probably would’ve done to him after I reached my breaking point.
I couldn’t look at the bed as my mind raced with the thoughts of Beckham and me creasing the sheets—and Gavin potentially doing the same with Jessica.
Stepping out of the bedroom, ignoring the negativity, I descended the steps and paused as the key in the door turned before it was pushed open.
I fully expected to lock eyes on Gavin, however the man I’d actively been told to ignore turned around and made eye contact with me, genuine surprise in his eyes.
“Rosenna…” Brent muttered.
I gulped. Brent stood right between me and my escape.
Deciding to make my getaway, or at least attempt it, I descended the stairs and turned down the hall to the patio sliding door.
Brent followed behind me quickly. Before I could get far, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Wait, we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Brent,” I seethed.
“What are you even doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting some of my stuff. I wasn’t planning on burning the place down, don’t worry,” I muttered, pulling out of his hold.
He rolled his eyes, walking closer as I went for the door once again. “Rose, don’t be like that.”
“Like what? A bitter wife who’s tired of being tossed around? A bitch? A little bit of both?” I asked, finally sliding the door open. However, Brent immediately closed it.
The audacity of him standing between me and the door, like I owed him a conversation.Like I owed him anything.
“Would you fucking stop for once?” he seethed.
I scoffed. “I’m not the one forcing you to talk to your friend’s soon-to-be ex-wife.”
Holding his temples between his fingers as he let out a sigh, he spoke, his words continuing to make my irritation skyrocket. “Rosenna, just give me five minutes to talk, that’s all I need.”
“You have two,” I uttered, unimpressed.
He removed his hand from the door as he ran it through his hair.
I could feel the heat of his body in front of me, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne, something darker, heavier than the one Gavin used to wear. It was grounding and suffocating all at once.
“You shouldn’t go through with the divorce.”
I blinked twice. “One minute and forty-five seconds.”
