I know we’re lucky. We have a place to go and a roof over our heads, but we’re otherwise displaced. Paige didn’t want to leave California and she hates me for it. I’ve torn her away from her friends, her boyfriend, everything she knows, for reasons I won’t go into with her. She deserves better, and I’m determined to give it to her.
“I’m not asking for anything unreasonable,” I say, steadying the tremble in my voice.
How can I be yelling at a complete stranger one minute, but quivering in front of a man I’ve shared a bed with almost every night for twenty years the next?
“I just want enough to rent a small place for me and Paige. Somewhere stable. Close to her new school.”
Gerard snorts. “You wouldn’t need that if you hadn’t run away andkidnappedour daughter.”
My gasp hits the walls.
“I haven’t kidnapped her. You know where we are and I’m not stopping you from seeing her.”
“You’re asking me to spend money I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t run away.” He cocks his head to one side. “In addition to the beautiful home I’ve provided for my family, you wantmore?”
Oh God, when he puts it like that, I seem selfish and petulant. But I’m not. I moved out to keep Paige and I safe.
“You could move to a smaller place—you won’t need such a big house without us there. You could get a bachelor pad.”
I’m trying to put a positive spin on it but by the looks of his curling lip, I’m way off the mark.
“Moving house is an inconvenience I don’t have time for,” he says, a new flatness to his tone. “And I didn’t ask for this separation, Erin. It’s all you. Why should I be punished?”
Punished? He thinks he’s the one being punished?
I blink. “I don’t think I’m asking for too much, Gerard. I supported your career, I raised our daughter, I moved across the country for you. I put my career on hold for our family.”
“What career?” he retorts, looking genuinely puzzled. “You’ve never had a real job. You stayed home as soon as we began trying for a family. No one forced you to do that.”
I swallow, the memories of that time still painful now.
We struggled to conceive. In fact, it took us almost four years of invasive tests, hormone treatments, and eventually IVF to get pregnant. Gerard didn’tforceme to stay out of the workforce but he didstrongly suggestI give conception my all, seeing as my supposed “hard-partying past” was probably the reason why we were having difficulties.
For the record, I didn’t party hard—I’ve always been too sensible for that—but I did go slightly off the rails when my father passed. Mom always made me out to be a lot more delinquent than I actually was. She enjoyed Gerard’s sympathy.
“You chose to stay home,” he continues. “I never forced you.”
I almost laugh, the bitterness scratching at my throat. Instead, I look at my lawyer, who is blinking like he’s trying to remember what century he’s in.
“We have documentation,” he says, gruffly, “showing Mrs. Applebaum contributed substantially to the household?—”
“By doing laundry?” Robert interrupts. “With respect, that’s not exactly a marketable skill.”
My face burns while Gerard watches on, amused.
“Raising a child isn’t nothing,” I say.
“It’s not a career,” Gerard says. “You didn’t generate income. I did.”
“And I made that possible,” I shoot back. “You didn’t have to worry about anything at home. Ever.”
He shrugs. “That was your choice.”
My fingers are trembling beneath the table. “I don’t understand,” I start, my voice climbing in pitch. “You often talked about how wonderful it was to have a strong, loving, supportive mother for our little girl, to have someone at home nurturing our family. You seemed to be so… so proud.”
For the first time since I sat down, Gerard looks off balance. His half-sneer falls along with the corners of his eyes.
Sensing my husband buckling, Robert jumps in smoothly.
