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Gabriel Whitmore never imagined that Alexandra “Lexa” Hawthorne, his once–docile and compliant wife, would one day stand so resolutely on the path to divorce.
As he looked into her furious eyes, a strange ache pierced his chest, numbing him. He forced himself to calm down and think.
Was it because she didn’t want to take care of his parents? But wasn’t it a daughter–in–law’s duty to be dutiful?
Was it jealousy over Serena Sterling? But for three years, Lexa had never shown a hint of envy.
After mulling it over, he concluded: Lexa was throwing a tantule,
That had to be it. Lexa only ever acted out like this when she was upset.
Relaxing his tightly pursed lips, Gabriel chuckled. “Aren’t you a bit old to be throwing childish fits?”
A tantrum?
He thought this was a tantrum?
I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Gabriel, I’m dead serious. That $18.80 divorce settlement? It’s a bargain–both a life lesson and liberation for me. Honestly, it’s the best deal I’ve ever made.”
The faint hope lingering in his eyes instantly vanished. His lips trembled as he asked, almost helplessly, “Lexa, what do you want me to do?”
“You know I’m busy. I admit I haven’t been as attentive as I should, but I’ve done my best for you. The only thing I haven’t given you is the wedding, and I promised you that–just one more year. Can’t you wait?”
Hearing his justification, I felt nothing but revulsion.
His “best“? Was it making me care for his parents while he stayed conveniently absent? Was it expecting me to cook and clean while enduring debilitating cramps? Or was it hiding me away like a mistress instead of the wife I was supposed to be?
As his wife, I wasn’t even entitled to the respect a mistress received. And now, even after everything, Gabriel couldn’t see where he’d gone
wrong.
I didn’t bother wasting any more words. Pulling out the divorce papers I’d prepared, I held them out with icy resolve. “What you can do for me is sign this.”
“Stop joking around,” Gabriel said, his tone incredulous. “You’re just upset.”
His eyes widened in disbelief when I didn’t reply. Then, in a fit of rage, he grabbed the papers and tore them to shreds. “I won’t sign. I’m not divorcing you!”
“Is it because you don’t want to care for my parents? Because you’re jealous of Serena? Because I didn’t throw you a wedding? Is that really worth ending a marriage over?” His voice rose in desperation.
I stared at him, expressionless. “Keep tearing. I’ve got plenty more.” Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a stack of ten identical copies and threw them into the air.
As the fluttering papers rained down around us, I picked up his Rising Brew Coffeehouse order from the entryway. “Consider this your $18.80. The divorce papers? Don’t forget to sign them.”
