Chapter 10

A week after Mari and I signed our contract, and three days after Mari moved into my place, I cursed myself for being the greatest fool alive.

Live together, I’d said, it’ll be fine, I’d said.

Except it wasn’t fucking fine. Mari was in my space, her smell, her voice, her very being taking up both my physical and mental space.

She’d filled my fridge with chick food. I was pretty sure she’d bought at least one bottle of rosé and one bottle of chardonnay, both of which I never allowed near my kitchen for obvious reasons. She’d filled my bathroom cabinets with so many items—how did women have so much stuff?

It had been so long since I’d lived with a woman I’d forgotten they collected products like magpies collected things for their nests. They had soap for each body part. They had tweezers and clippers and tiny scissors; they had lotion and razors and hair spray. And so much makeup. Thankfully Mari had kept most of her makeup in her bedroom—my second bedroom—because there wasn’t room f