Chapter 2

Tiffany

Three months, that’s how long my marriage managed to last. Every other couple in the world was still having sex three times a day, snuggling in the honeymoon period of their relationship. But me? I was sitting in a meeting room at the courthouse, waiting to finalize my divorce. I still couldn’t wrap my hands around how I got here. A couple years ago, I was beaming, being hired by the hottest media company in the world, working my way up quickly to supervisor of the management department, and falling in love with Jordan Banks, the most eligible bachelor in New York. It was like my life had turned into a fairytale, something definitely different from my life growing up. I was born and raised in New York, but my parents had been junkies, and they did nothing but steal to get high and leave me and my brother to fend for ourselves. My brother pushed me to be better than that, showed me every single negative thing about their lifestyle, and made sure I got good grades in high school. When I graduated second in my class, I was offered a full ride to NYU, and though I wanted to get away from the city and all its bad memories, I couldn’t afford not to go to NYU. So, I stayed, working through college so I didn’t have to live with my parents. My brother joined the Army and shipped off immediately, after making sure I was safe and secure.

After that, it was like one amazing thing after the other. I kicked ass in school, I had amazing friends, I was offered the internship that would eventually turn into the career at Banks, and I, in my Senior year, met Jordan. He was so sweet and loving and was absolutely gorgeous on top of it. He had told me he had a crush on me since Freshman year, and I couldn’t believe the son and heir of Banks Media Corp wanted me to be his girlfriend. Of course, I jumped at the chance, what girl wouldn’t? After a few months, I realized I had fallen in love with him. His ambition and charm were intoxicating, and his family was amazing. His parents, Lily and John, took me into the family immediately, and for the first time in my life, I got to experience what a real family was like. We had Thanksgiving dinners, weekends at their estate, Christmas morning presents, and everything else. In a way, I didn’t just fall in love with Jordan, I fell in love with his entire life. That made all of this so much more difficult. Not only was I mourning the end of my marriage, but I was also mourning the loss of an entire family as well, all because of something I couldn’t help.

I guess I should have seen the signs when a month into our marriage, Jordan was hounding me about getting pregnant, but in my love haze, I just thought it was him wanting a family with me. So, I agreed and set an appointment to have a full work up done at the doctors to make sure I was physically ready to carry a child. I remember not feeling nervous at all as the doctor came back into the room, a somber look on her face. She showed me pictures, spouted off numbers, gave me possible treatments, but in the end, all I could hear were my dreams of a family slipping down the drain. Apparently, I had some rare condition that made getting pregnant almost impossible. Everything stopped dead in its tracks, and I rode back to our home in silence, just wanting Jordan’s arms wrapped around me. Little did I know, that would not be his reaction. Instead, he lashed out, screaming that I had tricked him into a childless marriage, that I couldn’t give him what he wanted, that I was a failure and less of a woman.

He moved out that night, packing up to stay at his apartment in the city. I sat quietly in shock in my living room, watching the flames of the fire trickle down to nothing, just like our relationship had done in the blink of an eye. The next week was like a dream, where I was floating in and out of emotional states, trying to get a handle on my life. Just two days after that, I received the divorce papers, which were embarrassingly delivered to my office instead of our home. I signed for the papers, looking up to see Jordan scowling at me from the corner. Since then, it’s been nothing but hell, and though I was completely heartbroken that the man I loved ditched me over something I couldn’t control, I just really wanted everything to be over. I looked up at the clock and sighed. Jordan was late as usual. The silence in the room was deafening, and his lawyer looked up at me with a half-smile. I focused on keeping it together, not breaking down, and not letting him see any more tears from me. He didn’t deserve to bask in my pain, and I realized I didn’t even recognize the man who wanted to end our marriage. I wanted to go home and be alone, where I could start to reassemble my life and get back to normal, whatever that was.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall was echoing through my brain. Where the hell was he? He was the one who wanted this divorce in the first place. Why he couldn’t be here on time was beyond me. Technically, he wanted an annulment, and I wasn’t sure what the difference was. It didn’t matter to me what the title was. All it boiled down to was that I wasn’t the girl he wanted because I couldn’t give him children. I felt like the King’s wife, having been found sterile, banished to the towers to live her life out in shame.

“We’ve waited long enough,” my attorney said. “I think we should just go ahead and move forward.”

“Agreed,” the other attorney replied.

Just then, the door opened and in sauntered Jordan, no hurry or worry on his face at all. I shook my head at his arrogance and placed my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to even look at him, and I realized quickly how anger toward him had turned him completely undesirable to me. Besides, I knew he wasn’t out there mourning the loss of his marriage. He was a playboy through and through, and he had probably started sleeping around before I even got the papers. I grimaced at the thought of being married to a man like that.

“Sorry I was late,” he said arrogantly. “I had a meeting.”

“A meeting you didn’t need to go to,” I replied. He had forgotten I was the supervisor of his floor.

I kept my eyes glued on the table in front of me, not wanting to look at him for even a second. I could feel his eyes darting back and forth across the room as he, too, tried to avoid all eye contact with me. It was horribly awkward and painful to sit through, especially when, three months before, we were gazing into each other’s eyes and committing our lives to one another. I shook my head, thinking about our wedding day, wondering what had happened to make the sweet and kind man I had married turn into an obnoxious primidone with no heart. Then again, maybe it was all for show. Maybe he was never that kind loving man I thought I knew, and after getting married, he realized it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I had heard stories about Jordan before we started dating, but his personality and those stories never seemed to match up. I shrugged them off as nothing more than gossip or jealousy. Now, though, looking back and comparing the stories to this stranger sitting across from me, it all made perfect sense. He was a coward, and I couldn’t believe I’d fallen so hard for his ridiculous lies. There was no way you could love someone the way he said he loved me and then dump them on their ass the next day as if they never meant anything to you. It was cruel and harsh, and I was tired of being treated with no respect.

“Alright,” his lawyer began. “Both parties have agreed this marriage has reached its finality. In regard to their personal belongings, seeing as the couple was married three months prior, they have agreed to the following terms: The house in the Greek District, purchased by Ms. Wells prior to their marriage, will stay in her possession, including all items minus Mr. Bank’s personal effects. The apartment in Manhattan, purchased by Mr. Banks prior to marriage, will stay in his possession, including all items minus Ms. Well’s personal effects. Each will continue to possess their personal vehicles purchased before the marriage. In regard to the joint bank account started two and half months ago, Mr. Bank’s has relinquished all rights, and the money has been signed over in the form of a cashier’s check to Ms. Wells.”

The attorney slid an envelope across the table, and I put my hand over it, shutting my eyes, and trying to remind myself to keep it together. I bet giving me that bank account made him feel good, like he had done the right thing. All twenty-two thousand dollars of it, a price he found fair for putting me through so much grief and agony. I didn’t want the damn money that had been put in there to start a fund for our child’s education, the child we would never have. It was almost like he was taking a jab at me for not being able to have children. I grasped my hand around the envelope and slid it into my purse.

“If all parties are in agreeance,” the attorney continued. “Ms. Wells, you need to initial in these three spots and sign at the bottom. Mr. Banks, you will do the same.”

I clutched the pen tightly as I scribbled my name through the legal document. As he pulled the papers toward him, I could hear the tip of the pen scratch across the paper. With every curve of his name, my heart sunk lower and lower, until the tears were burning at the corners of my eyes.

“Well, if that is all,” my attorney said.

“That was easy,” Jordan said in a jovial tone.

I slammed my hands on the desk and shoved the chair back behind me, looking up and staring deeply into his eyes. He looked taken back, almost scared for a moment, but he wasn’t worth the extra breath to explain what he’d done to me. I turned and walked from the room before he could even stand. I sped through the courthouse, tears beginning to blind me as I pushed out onto the sidewalk and jogged toward the garage where my car was parked. Fumbling with my keys, I dropped them twice before finally getting the car open. As soon as the door slammed shut, I grabbed the steering wheel and let my resolve release. Tears dampened my face as the pain in my chest plummeted to my belly. That was it, the love I thought I had for a lifetime was gone with the stroke of a pen.