“Because according to this—” she lifts the folder between us, giving it a little shake “—it is very much your problem.”
I huff out a breath, dragging a hand over my jaw like I’m bored, like I’m not standing here trying to hold myself together with duct tape and spite.
“What is it?” I ask, feigning annoyance when what I’m really feeling is a volatile mix of anger, confusion, and something a hell of a lot more dangerous.
“Well, Benji,” she says, and there’s a sweetness to her tone that’s so fake it grates over my nerves, “when you sent me those divorce papers, you forgot one tiny, itsy-bitsy little detail.”
My temper flares, fast and mean.
“You’re not getting any damn alimony,” I snap.
Her mouth falls open for half a second, genuine disbelief flashing across her face.
“I didn’t ask for any!”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” I fire back, taking a step closer, crowding her space without even thinking about it.
She doesn’t back up.
Of course she doesn’t.
She just glares right up at me, chin tipped, eyes blazing.
“You forgot to sign it, you jerk!”
I blink.
The words don’t land right at first.
“Wh—what?” I frown, the anger stuttering for just a second. “What does that mean?”
Her expression shifts—not softer, not really—but heavier somehow.
Like the weight of everything between us just dropped right there at our feet.
“It means,” she says, slower now, like she’s making sure I hear every word, “you’re still my husband. And I-I’m still your wife.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Everything in me goes tight.
Because that? That changes everything.
And I don’t know if I want it to.
“Still married?”
The words hit me like a shovel to the sternum.
Everything in me slams to a stop.
Silence drops over the porch, heavy as wet wool.
Behind me, Bit makes a tiny, startled sound.
I hear Sawyer shift his weight, but I don’t look at either of them.
I can’t.
