She was angry, too. Breathing hard and glaring at me.
“We’re not getting a divorce,” I said. “We’re not over. Not with a baby on the way.”
“The baby has nothing to do with what is going on between us,” Emzee argued and I wanted to laugh. Because what the hellwasgoing on between us? I still couldn’t figure it out. The way she jumped from crossing state lines to run away from me to seducing me in my own apartment to throwing divorce papers in my face had given me more than enough whiplash.
It felt like she was slipping away, even though she was standing right in front of me.
“I love you,” I reminded her. “The past was a long time ago, and I’m sorry. I fucked up. Let me fix it. Let me fixus. I have faith in our relationship, and I know we can be okay again.”
She shook her head and I began to feel hopeless, until I remembered the whole reason I had followed her today.
“Wait a minute,” I said, and then pulled out my phone, scrolling through my messages until I found the one I’d gotten from my parents. “What the fuck is this nonsense about me signing the divorce papers? My parents are already trying to set me up on dates.”
I shoved my phone at her. At the picture my parents had sent of some random girl.
Emzee frowned. “Who is that?”
“I have no idea,” I told her. “But I’m sure she won’t be the last mystery date they set me up with, because apparently I’m now legally divorced. You know anything about that?”
The color drained from Emzee’s face. My stomach dropped to my feet.
“Emzee,” I said. “What did you do?”
“I…sort of forged your name on the papers,” she admitted.
Mind blown, all I could do was laugh, even though I was seeing red. “You did what?”
“You refused,” she argued. “I couldn’t keep waiting.”
Sinking back down on the bench, I put my head in my hands. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Then I looked up at her again.
“You forged my name and hid a pregnancy?”
“Yes. I did.”
The ground felt like it was actually tilting beneath my feet. I tried to take a few deep, calming breaths to fight the vertigo. This could not be happening. This was not my life.
“First of all,” I told her. “There is no way in hell you’re getting rid of me when you’re pregnant with my child. Secondly, that signature is not legal, and I’ll contest it. And win. You know I will. I know some great lawyers.”
“Ford, don’t—” she started to say, but I held up my hand to silence her.
“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t be around you right now.”
No matter how much I loved my wife, I couldn’t stand the thought of being with her for one more second. I was too pissed. Too hurt. It was painful enough that she’d walked out on me and moved to New York on the sly, but the fact that she hadn’t told me about the baby—our baby—had shattered something inside of me. My chest ached. I needed some time alone to process everything.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked quietly. “How could you keep this a secret?”
“You had secrets too,” Emzee said, her voice taking on an edge. “And you kept them from me for years.”
I couldn’t believe she was comparing the two. Okay, sure, I knew that the whole modeling/prostitution ring was a big deal, and yeah I should have come clean ages ago about the locker graffiti and the whore rumors I’d started about her, but God, that was so long ago. It was in the distant past. Whereas this, all this with the baby and the divorce and the New York stuff, this was happening right now. It was the presentandthe future. Our future. Baby’s future.
“This doesn’t even begin to compare,” I told her. “And you know it.”
I stood up and started pacing again, unable to help myself. I didn’t know what to do or say, and it was clear that Emzee didn’t either. How had our lives become so messed up so quickly? And how could we ever make things right again? For our baby’s sake if nothing else.
Finally, I walked back over to her and took a deep breath. I’d made my decision.
“This is my child,” I told her. “And I love you, Em.”
