“Of course.”
He entered, noticed the folders and boxes, and didn’t ask personal questions.
I signed my name.
Ariana.
Not Ariana-and-Scott.
Not almost-wife.
Just me.
I signed my name.
Mr. Clement was sliding the signed copy into the envelope when Scott’s key turned in the lock.
His voice came through first.
“Babe, that smells incredible. Please tell me you got the spicy noodles.”
The door opened.
Scott walked in smiling, guitar case in hand.
He saw Chelsea, and his smile faltered.
His voice came through first.
He saw Mr. Clement, and his smile vanished.
Then he saw the boxes against the wall and the folders on the dining table.
For one full second, he stood frozen in the doorway.
“What’s this?” he asked.
I stayed beside the table. My heart beat hard, but my voice stayed steady.
“Dinner,” I said. “Just not the one you expected.”
“What’s this?”
Scott stepped inside. “Why is Mr. Clement here?”
“He brought lease paperwork.”
“What lease paperwork?”
“The notice I signed.”
His eyes narrowed. “You signed what?”
“My notice to vacate.”
“You can’t just do that.”
“What lease paperwork?”
