I've had it handled, especially since I've been able to spend so much time away from home.
"Send them in."
Aubree nods before smiling in that way at me again. "I figured you'd be working late again, so there's a sub in the fridge for you. Made by yours truly."
I don't look up when I ask, "Are there tomatoes on it?"
"Yes," she says, her voice brightening, hopeful—but my mouth twists immediately.
"I'm allergic."
"Oh... I'm sorry," she deflates, wincing, but I wave off her apology.
My mouth would break out in these awful sores if I ate anything with tomatoes. Wendy was always so careful withcooking, even being mindful of cross-contamination.
Because that's just my wife—full of care.
"It's alright. See if Jordan wants it tomorrow," I tell her, and she nods, lingering in that doorway a beat too long until she starts shifting awkwardly. I glance back up at her, and she seems to remember why she came in here in the first place.
"Oh, right..." she says as she gestures back to the door. "Should I send them in?"
I nod. She steps out of the office, and I hear her say, "Go on in."
When I look back up, standing there is a black-haired woman, dressed casually, but her face is anything but. Her posture is sharp, eyes assessing me as she asks, "Atlas Durant?"
"Yes?"
She glances at a thick envelope in her hand before holding it out to me. I take it on reflex.
"You've been served," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Have a wonderful night."
She turns and walks out before I can ask a single question. Aubree peeks back into my office, concern written all over her face, but I'm just staring at the envelope in my hand, my name typed cleanly across the front.
Something deep in my gut tells me it's not about the business—and that it'sbad.
My mind goes haywire as I use my finger to rip it open, ignoring the papercut that blooms instantly on my skin.
Fuck, I haven't even properly scrubbed my hands yet, oil and grease smudged across my knuckles, now across the thick white paper.
The words blur together, and I have to blink a few times to clear my vision.
PETITION FOR LEGAL SEPARATION
The floor drops out from under me. I grab the edge of my desk to steady myself as nausea surges. I'm momentarily afraid I might vomit right here.
The marriage is irretrievably broken due to Respondent'semotional abandonment, prolonged absence from the marital home in all but physical presence, and failure to participate in marital counseling as agreed upon.
My chest caves in, my ears ring; the words don't make sense, and yet they do.
Wendy is leaving me.
My body trembles violently, and I close my eyes, willing that when I open them, the papers will say something else, anything else.
Emotional abandonment...
Prolonged absence...
Failure to participate...
