“This Chad guy sounds like a real champ,” he says.
“I’m the moron that married him.”
I pick at the edge of the table to keep from meeting his eyes.
Chad was not my best work. Not my best choice, or the greatest guy I’ve ever dated, nor am I proud that I went through with the whole thing. But I did it and I can’t change it. I need to figure out how to accept all that.
“I’m sure you had great intentions,” Holden says.
“I did. Want to know how deep his intentions ran?” I strum my fingers against the tabletop as I look up at him. “He left me by sticking a note to the kitchen table with a dollop of strawberry jelly.”
I blow out a breath and regret word-vomiting all that. It was too deep. Too raw and real. Opening up to Holden is too easy, and I probably just ruined the mood.
He watches me for a few seconds before grinning. “He didn’t even use grape? Rude.”
I smile, relieved that he didn’t dig deeper. “Right? He didn’t even use grape on his sandwiches.”
“Big red flag right there,” he says, pointing a finger my way.
“You know, Gramma always said not to marry a man that cuts the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“And why is that?”
“Because that’s an indication that someone doesn’t like boundaries. Guess I should’ve listened to her. He even cut the crusts off his grilled cheese.”
He gasps, his jaw falling to the table in mock horror. “That’s serial-killer shit right there.”
“Hey, I don’t know what he’s been doing the last couple of years of his life.” I take a napkin from the dispenser. “You might be right.”
“So why did you marry him? You didn’t get serial-killer vibes from the start?”
It’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times, because down deep, I knew it wasn’t right for me. I just ignored my gut and did it anyway.