I take a step forward.
Immediately, someone blocks my path.
Kieran.
My irritation flares instantly at the sight of him. He stands with his hands in his pockets, calm, unhurried, blockingmypath. He carries himself with a confidence that says he belongs here, in her life, and I don’t.
“You,” I snap. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He gives a slight, unnervingly calm smile. “Stopping you from making a mistake.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my wife.”
The smile stays fixed on his face, almost gentle. The way one might look at an injured animal. “Ex-wife,” he corrects. “That was the point of today.”
The word hits my chest, and I can’t breathe.
Ex-wife.
I haven’t said it once. Haven’t let myself think about it. In my mind, she remains my wife. The woman who irons my shirts. Packs my lunch. Waits for me to come home. Stillmine.
I glare past him at Nora.
She is still standing with Maeve, her back to me, her shoulders relaxed. She doesn’t know I am here. She doesn’t seem to care.
“What exactly do you think you are to her?” I demand, my voice low and harsh.
I want to hurt him. I want to watch the smugness leak out of his lungs until he realizes he is a mathematical insignificance. A mere coworker, a temporary crutch she grabbed because he happened to be nearby when she decided to ruin her life.
He watches me for a second, his face giving nothing away. “Something far better than what you were.”
My jaw tightens, heat rising in my chest.
“This isn’t over,” I say, the words coming through gritted teeth. “I’ll get her back.”
He studies me, his calm composure an insult. “She’s already handled that.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“She filed for a restraining order.”
For a moment, the words don’t register. A restraining order is for people who are dangerous. Threatening. People who cannot be trusted to stay away. For men who punch holes in drywall or carry knives in their pockets. I am none of those things. I am her husband. Iloveher.
I gulp. “That’s bullshit.”
But my mind races anyway. A restraining order. A legal document. That piece of paper will limit my movements, my contact, my ability to reach her.
“You’ll be served,” he continues, his tone casual. “Soon.”
I laugh, loud and harsh. “For what? Talking to her? Wanting my wife back?”
Kieran doesn’t blink. “For refusing to leave her alone. Which you’re demonstrating at this very moment.”
My stomach knots with cold. My body feels foreign, borrowed. But I tighten my jaw anyway. “She didn’t even tell me.”
“She doesn’t have to,” he replies. “You lost that right.”
I take a step forward. My words come out rough. “You think a piece of paper will stop me?”
