Chapter 153: He's Not that Dumb, Is He?

Divorce.

It's a nasty word. Especially when you've been married less than seven days. I guess if I try to stay positive, it's longer than some celebrity marriages.

I flip the channel on the television again and scowl at the innocent black box when I stop on a soccer tournament. Look, the wives of those men know where they are. What a novel concept.

The last message I received from Ryland came last night, almost twenty-four hours ago. I've been to work. I've had dinner. What I haven't had is a conversation with my husband. The day started with me irritated, by lunch I hit frustrated, at dinner I became highly annoyed, and now I'm livid.

My fingers tap on the edge of the couch, but the motion loses effect when my nails don't make sound on the soft fabric. I'm about to turn off the television when my phone vibrates.

Ryland: Where are you?

He didn't? He didn't text me demanding to know where I am. Did he? He's not that dumb?

Me: My living room.