Determined to run away from her failed marriage, Cartier Davenport, finds herself escaping failure by secluding herself in a seaside village hidden away in the rolling hills of the English countryside.
Surrounded by her books, paints, and large over...
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c a r t i e r
Divorce.
What a peculiar word.
It's a word I never in a million years would see associated with my name.
Mrs. Cartier Chelsea Davenport. Wife. University graduate. Miss New York of 2010. Artist. Mother even-- someday. But Divorcee? Nothing spells failure quite like divorce.
Well, I guess there is one other thing that categorizes me as a failure. I've failed not only as a wife but also as a human being. As a woman. Perhaps that single thing is the catalyst as to why I'm staring these divorce papers down in my husband's high rise office like a doe watching an oncoming semi truck ready to be made into road kill.
"We both know, Darling, this has been a long time coming." Anthony tells me whilst knoting his cobalt blue tie in the crystal mirror above a metal cart full of his prized whiskeys and scotch.
I've known what he says is true. It's been an unspoken truth for over a year if I wasn't able to conceive via IVF divorce would be a looming dark cloud not far off, "I suppose," I exhale a trembling breath as I skim through the legal document noting all the highlighted tabs where our lawyer has delegated for me to sign.
"I've taken good care of you, Car. You'll get everything fifty/fifty, just as you should."
I can't remove my eyes from the headline of the document with the bold lettering titleing my failure.
My parents would be horrified. Thank God they aren't around to see this.
Oh God, my parents.
It's the thought of them that threatens the tears to spill and my throat to tighten into an aching knot.
"Anthony...I-I can do it. If we just tried for one more month. I know this time will be it for us." My watery gaze lifts from the thick document to watch my husband--soon to he ex, turn to face me.
Dr. Anthony Davenport always so put together. Always so in control. His light brown hair gelled into a wavy style, his light amber eyes peircing with defiance at my pathetic excuse for a plea.
Sensing my inevitable breakdown, Anthony circles back and kneels next to me taking my trembling hands from the table top into his own and sighs.
"Car-Bear, Darling, no matter how hard we tried we will never be parents. It's time the two of us stop wasting each others time and look elsewhere. I'm thirty-nine and want to start my own family, my father passed his practice down to me and the same with his father." His voice and words hold no malice but they still act like a knife cutting up my heart into a million little pieces. "All I want is a son-- or daughter, but I want a Davenport to continue the legacy my family started generations ago. It's nothing against you, Car. You know you own a peice of my heart and you always will."
