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“Hey.” Harker tapped on the door.
“Yeah.” She stared at the baby. Her emotions were too close to the surface to look at him right now.
“Dinner is here.”
“Good. She's almost asleep.” She stood and walked to the crib. She placed Irene on her stomach, gently rubbing her back when the baby started to fuss.
He stood there for a long moment before saying, “I'll see you in the kitchen.”
She watched Irene fight sleep for a few more minutes before glancing at the doorway. He was gone. “What am I going to do?” she whispered to her daughter. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want a divorce, but I wasn’t very nice to your daddy.” She ran her finger over Irene’s soft baby hair. “He did some things that hurt me, but I should’ve forgiven him.” She blinked back her tears. “Instead, I was stubborn and stupid, and now, I don’t know if he wants me anymore.” She bent and kissed her daughter before walking to the kitchen.
CHAPTER 27: Harker
Harker had been sure Alison and Irene would be gone when he got home. When he’d seen her, he’d wanted to charge across the living room and scoop her into his arms, but just because she was still there, it didn’t mean they were together.
He'd expected her to say something about him signing the divorce papers—tell him she’d talked to her lawyer, that she was filing them or had filed them, thanked him or something. It was strange that she hadn’t said anything. There was no way she could've missed them or his letter. She was probably waiting to bring it up after Irene was asleep. If nothing else, fear of waking the baby would keep them from shouting at each other.
She walked into the kitchen.
“I would’ve ordered extra pitas, but I thought we still had some. You’re right. We need to go shopping.” He cleared his throat when he realized he’d used the word we instead of I. “Here.” He handed her a container from the Greek Restaurant.
“Thanks.” Her voice was soft. She seemed nervous, except usually that meant lots of chatter whereas tonight she was quiet.
He sat across from her, picking at his salad.
She opened her container. “That’s a lot of food.”
“I ordered us both the platters. Is it too much?”
“No. I mean, yeah.” She smiled, but it slipped away quickly. “I understand why you ordered me this much. I’ve been eating like crazy lately.”
“You are feeding our child.”
“Yeah, but I think I may have been eating for more than the two of us.” She touched her stomach which was still round.
He found it unbelievably hot—the softness and strength of her body. She’d carried his child inside her, and it hadn’t been easy. She’d been swollen and tired and hormonal, and she’d gone through it all for him and their baby. He wanted to take care of her and to fuck her senseless, but unfortunately, he’d messed up everything so badly that she didn’t want either of those things anymore.
They ate in silence, the only sound their utensils scraping on the dishes. Their meals used to be filled with her chatter and jokes, happiness.
He couldn’t take it anymore. “You saw the papers and the letter. Right?” He stuffed a french fry into his mouth. It was like trying to chew sand.
She nodded.
He dropped his gyro onto his plate as he stood. He couldn’t sit here and pretend anymore.
“Is everything okay?”
He stared at her, wanting to say that no everything was not okay. He was about to lose the only family he'd ever had. Instead he said, “Yeah, I’m just not very hungry.” He turned and left.
CHAPTER 28: Alison
Alison’s throat tightened as she watched Harker walk away. She’d never realized that by him giving her a choice, he was making one too. He’d decided; it was over for him. She'd been screwing up her marriage and their relationship since the moment she walked down the aisle. She should file the divorce papers and sell the company back to him. She couldn’t keep working here, seeing him every day, remembering what they’d had—what she’d ruined.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and put their uneaten food away. She wiped the table and washed the few dishes, doing anything she could to avoid going back into the living room and seeing those papers—the end of her marriage—sitting and waiting for her.
She dropped the fork. He’d said something about a letter. She hadn’t seen a letter. Of course, she’d never actually touched the papers because touching them would’ve somehow made them more real.
She hurried out of the kitchen and over to her laptop. She tossed the divorce papers onto the couch. Her hand trembled as she picked up the envelope that’d been under them. She opened it as she dropped onto the couch, not caring that she’d sat on the papers. She pulled the note from the envelope.
