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Isn’t that worth risking a few burns?
Heart lurching, I open my mouth.
Then bite back whatever words I was about to say when my husband finally speaks.
And does it in a tone that’s, unfortunately, become familiar.
Cold.
Sharp.
Resolute.
“I want a divorce.”
Two
Brit, Six Months Later
I’m in hell.
Literal hell.
Staring at the beautiful brunette in front of me.
With kind eyes.
Who’s…fucking my husband.
Ex-husband.
That addendum sends a pulse of pain shooting through the backs of my eyes, the shards of my broken heart digging into my soft tissue.
But they’re familiar hurts.
Because, over the last year, they’ve become familiar.
More familiar than my ex’s new girlfriend, Tiffany.
Yup.
Fucking Tiffany.
And worse, I can’t even be upset.
Because she’s nice.
“I was wondering if you would be all right with me taking Roxie to get our nails done?” Tiffany says, holding her hand up and showing off long acrylic nails that I could never get away with.
Because they won’t fit in a goalie glove.
I wince.
“I won’t get her fake nails, of course,” she says quickly, wrongly reading the grimace I hadn’t been able to keep inside?—
Because I’m not that kind of woman, because I couldn’t give Stefan that.
Because…maybe I wasn’t woman enough for him.
