Page 41 of Seasons of Sin

He frowned.

“There shouldn’t have been anything for me to find out.”

He nodded, belatedly comprehending. “Right, of course. Saffy, it’s over with Anita. It should never have begun. I loveyou.”

“No,” she smiled wistfully. “You don’t.”

“I love you,” he responded firmly.

“If you loved me you could never have hurt me like that.” She ignored her own dull, throbbing denial. After all, she loved Thaddeus, and yet she’d hurt him. Badly. “If you loved me, you would never have slept with my closest friend behind my back. If you loved me, you would never have treated me with such disrespect. You don’t love me. And maybe you never did.”

“How can you say that?” His expression was perfect; he looked, to all the world, like a truly wounded man. Only Saphire understood him so much better now. She knew what motivated him, and it wasn’t love. Nor was it loyalty.

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I don’t love you either. I can’t pinpoint when I started to fall out of love with you. But gradually, and a long while ago, I did. I don’t love you. I want a divorce.”

He stood up and paced across the room. Despite the earliness of the hour, he poured himself a measure of whiskey and threw it back.

“I won’t let you do this to me,” he said when he spun around.

She grimaced. “What did you think would happen? You must have known I wouldn’t put up with it.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he blathered, spittle pooling in the corners of his lips.

“No,” she shook her head, and her laugh now was genuine. “But I did. And that was your mistake, not mine.”

“You were having lunch with your mother.”

“God, Jordan, it wasn’t the first time you slept with her. Presumably it wasn’t the last. If I hadn’t walked in on you, I would have found out soon enough another way. Secrets like that can never be kept. You’re a lawyer. You should know all this. No secret is perfect.”

“It’s over. Anita’s nothing to me.”

“Don’t say that,” Saphire’s words were haunted. “If it was truly just meaningless sex then it would all have been for nothing. I’ve lost my best friend. I’ve lost you. And what for?”

“You haven’t lost me! And Anita’s missing you like crazy.”

Saphire honed in on the statement. “So you’ve seen her since then?”

His mouth worked over time. “I’ve … yes. But only because we had to talk. About you. She’s full of remorse. As am I.”

Another lie; she would have bet her life on it. “Great. So you should be. But that has little effect on my decision.”

“Divorce? I don’t want that.”

“I don’t care.” Saphire stood with a purposeful elegance from the chair and picked an imaginary piece of lint off her dress. “This isn’t a debate. It’s a decision, and I’ve made it.”

“Come on, Saff. We’ve been together for a decade of our lives. Surely you can’t just throw it all away …”

“You’re the one who did that,” she reminded him firmly. “I came here today with a heap of questions for you. Curiosity is natural under the circumstances, I suppose. I wanted to knowhow long it had been going on. I wanted to know if there’s been anyone else. I wanted to know why you even married me. But as soon as I saw you I realized how little any of that matters.”

“It all matters. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just stay. Just talk to me. Please.”

“No.” Her smile was sympathetic now. “You don’t understand. I feel nothing for you. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I’m not jealous. Everything I ever felt for you has disappeared. It’s just not there. I can’t snap my fingers and bring it back. You killed it, but I’m glad.” She walked towards the door.

“Stop.” He followed and put his hand on it. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes were darting around the room now. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go to my father,” she said gently, understanding his fear. “But don’t worry. I have no interest in dragging your name through the mud. I’m only going to inform him of our pending divorce.”

“He can’t act for you. That would be a massive conflict of interest.”