“No, I had a handful of pretzels too,” I replied, a little too proud of having eaten the bare minimum all day.
Callan let out a sigh, acting like not using his money to buy me food actually bothered him, and I watched him put on a performance because he liked the way it made him look, without believing it for a second. For whatever reason, he always put on that show of concern when it suited him. Maybe he felt guilty and needed to prove to himself he wasn’t a total dick, yet to me, hewasa total dick, and nothing he said or did would change that.
“There’s pizza and sushi in the kitchen. Eat something. You can’t go to bed having eaten only a sandwich.”
“And a handful of pretzels,” I corrected, tilting my chin up for emphasis.
He shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, Lana. You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I answered, keeping my voice flat.
“Bullshit.” He looked angry now, serious enough to pass for actual concern, but I couldn’t take him seriously because this was about him feeling better, not about me. If he genuinely cared, he wouldn’t have people in and out of the house all the time, and he would’ve made sure I had a place inside his home where I felt safe instead of invisible.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “I’m going upstairs.”
His hand grabbed my arm before I could turn away. “Lana.”
I glared at him. “What?”
“Please, go eat something before going to bed. It’s not healthy eating just a damn sandwich all day.”
“And pre—”
“Don’t be smart with me, Lana.” His voice dropped, and his face went serious.
“I’m not. I’m just saying I’m not hungry and I want to sleep because it’s been a long day.” The last part came out hard and sharp, with no real emotion lingering in the words I said. Then, because I felt just a little spiteful, I added, “Mom says hi, by the way.”
He didn’t look amused. “What, did you go see her?”
“No, but she called to ask about you,” I said, dropping my gaze to his hand still gripping my arm. I rolled my shoulder to free it, then looked at him again. “You know, because she only ever calls me to ask about you. Funny, no?”
I wanted to laugh to make it bearable, but nothing felt funny. My face stayed flat, and my voice came out even.
Callan exhaled through his nose and shook his head. “No. It’s not funny. It’s cowardly and neglectful.”
“Maybe you should tell her that to her face, because she’s not listening to me. She’s your wife, after all.”
“No, she’s not.”
“She’s not?” I tilted my head, confused.
“No. We got divorced. Signed the papers last week.”
Oh…
Oh!
“Wait…then why am I still here?”
He had no answer to that, because he probably didn’t know either. He just looked at me like he wanted me to stop asking. But the questions kept coming.
“Why didn’t I know?” I asked, then realized I could answer that myself, so I pushed on. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?”
His brows drew together. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”
“No, but—”
“Then you’re staying.”
