Chapter Twelve
Mackenzie was packing her things. Four years she’d lived in Kevin’s house. Her whole life had been gathered between these walls. She had nothing anywhere else, since she’d maintained no other apartment. This place was as much of a home as she’d ever had, her home. She’d never been married, and never divorced, though it seemed so at this moment. The marriage had been in spirit, and now the divorce was as rich a pain as one that required legal papers to execute.
It was more than just her personal things everywhere around the eight room townhouse. There was so much they’d shared. Who’d keep the self-portrait oil painting in the hallway that she’d painted for his birthday? Or the album of nude black and white photographs she had taken of herself? (On the eve of their
