Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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He cut me off. My God, he cut me off.
I guess I should have expected this considering how he's handled things thus far, but I was hoping he'd wait until the divorce is final. Then again, I'm sure Chelsea is chomping at the bit to get him single so she can sink her claws into him. She wants the life I had. She wants the million-dollar house, the notoriety, and the materialistic luxury he can offer her. She thinks he's the one and that he'll change for her, but you know what they say, if they cheated with you, they'll cheat on you.
My phone shakes in my trembling hand as I read his text again. He can't do this. This can't be legal. How is this legal? You can't just leave your spouse financially high and dry. Can you?
No, fuck this. Fuck. This.
I pull up Google on my phone and search until I get the answer I'm looking for.
Me: You can't do this. Google says you can't legally remove me from your health insurance while our divorce is pending. I just looked it up and it says once divorce proceedings begin, you can't remove me.
That bubble – that notoriously ominous bubble – appears a couple times, and a few minutes goes by before I get a response.
Will: I removed you before I filed. I know the laws, Delaney. Don't try and fight me on this. You'll lose.
Me: What about the checking account? You can't just take all the money. I won't have anything.
Ten minutes goes by this time before a response comes through.
Will: Not my problem.
I pull up his contact and hit call. It rings once before going straight to voicemail, but instead of leaving a message, I hold my middle finger up to my phone screen when I hear his voice telling me I've reached his phone.
I know. Very mature.
Me: You can't do this!
Another bubble.
Will: It's already done.
My blood pumps in my ears. The world around me spins. My heart thuds in my chest at a speed that can't be healthy. My hands and feet ache with pins and needles and an overwhelming sense of dread comes over me as the realization of my situation sinks in. No joint checking account means I have no money, besides what I got from Nico and the minimum wage I get from the church. But I can't live off that forever. Hell, I'll be lucky if I can live off that for the rest of the summer.
And what am I supposed to do about health insurance? I can't afford it on my own, the church doesn't offer benefits, and I'm too old to be on my parent's plan. Also, if Will took me off his benefits before he filed for divorce, there's no way I had coverage when I was admitted to the hospital after the Ambien disaster. So, if I don't have insurance, who paid that bill?
