She Walked Up To Me On The Beach After Three Years Of No Contact… And I Knew Why She Was There.

That’s not brave. That’s cruel. Day three: She tried calling the hotel chain’s corporate office.

Drew had already notified them of the situation. Told them I was taking an indefinite leave. They forwarded her call to legal.

Legal told her they couldn’t discuss personnel matters. She posted a vague story on Instagram about being shut out of conversations that affect your life. Day five: She tried to access her joint bank account.

Locked. Called the bank. They told her the account was flagged, pending legal review.

She called Drew’s office. His assistant told her all communication had to go through official channels. That’s when she called the police.

I was sitting in a diner in Vermont, eating a turkey sandwich and reading a book about woodworking, when Drew called. “She filed a wellness check,” Drew said, sounding almost amused. “Told the cops you disappeared, that she was worried you might hurt yourself.”

I set down my sandwich.

“And they found your car at the commuter lot, ran the plates, saw no red flags, called me because you’d listed me as your attorney of record. I told them you were on a planned sabbatical, that you checked in with me this morning, and that you were under no legal obligation to inform your estranged spouse of your whereabouts.”

“Estranged spouse,” I repeated. “That’s the first time anyone’s called her that.”

“Get used to it,” Drew said.

“She’s going to realize soon that she has no leverage here. No access to money, no access to you, and a visa that’s about to expire.”

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