It plinks off a picture sitting near his open laptop. It’s from our daughter Maggie’s first birthday. He’s holding her with the biggest smile plastered on his face, and I’m behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder.
His eyes are on her, and my eyes are on him.
He sighs. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
I half laugh, dragging my eyes from the photo to him. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you screwed the receptionist. Youdefinitelyshould have before you fell in love with her.”
I wish there was more bite to my voice, more hatred, butinstead it just sounds pathetic. Like how a child might sound when no one chooses them to be on their kickball team in PE. Not mad, just embarrassed and rejected.
I don’t hate him. I couldn’t. I’m so utterly in love with this man that I might actually throw up. If I thought it’d make a difference, I’d get down on the floor and beg him to change his mind.
But I’ve begged a man to stay before and all it got me was a big ol’ scoop of humiliation to go with my broken heart.
He rests his forearms on the desk. His gold watch taps against the wood.
It feels like I should be crying right about now, but no tears well in my eyes.
I clear my throat. “Maggie will be crushed.”
He twists his mouth to bite the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be around. It’s not like splitting up makes me any less her dad. Whatever we have to do, we’ll make it work for her.”
Whatever we have to do?How about don’t screw women who aren’t her mother? That would work.
Oh, too late.
I should yell at him, right? I should stand up and tell him that he’s a piece of shit, or say fuck you for doing this to our family and fuck her too. I should pick up the papers on his desk and throw them. Maybe slap him.
But I don’t. With a curt nod, I mutter, “Okay.”
“I’m gonna stay at my brother’s for a while. So, you have time to find a place.”
Something cracks, but I don’t know if it’s my heart or my sanity.
I laugh. Not a little giggle—a full-blown maniacal laugh. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.
My pulse rages, and I stop. “Thank youso muchfor beingsoconsiderate after blowing up my life.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“Shut up! Okay?” My hands fly up. “Stop talking. I’ll be out of your house, and you and your little girlfriend can have it all to yourselves.”
I storm toward the door, pressure building in my chest. My only thought—get the hell out of here.
Before leaving, I add, “Oh, and I quit.”
I slam the door behind me, and every head in the office turns in my direction.Do they know?
I didn’t even have to continue working at his stupid record label after we got married. I only did because I genuinely liked working here. Now it feels like the place is swallowing me whole.
I take a deep breath and glare at the receptionist, who seems to be busy staring at her computer screen to avoid my dirty look. Wouldn’t it be fun to run over there and rip every brown hair out of her stupid head? I could get a good fistful of it and slam her face on the desk.
She wouldn’t be so pretty with her perfect little button nose smashed in, would she?
Holy shit, Ash. Get a grip.
Since I’m not completely off my rocker yet, I flip her off and stomp to my desk instead.
Let him have her. She’s probably terrible.
