Chapter 6

I'm still figuring out how to start when the door swings open.

Asher walks in with Chloe tucked under his arm. He sees me and stops short.

The old man's face goes black. "You bastard. You bring that girl into my house?"

Asher just pulls out a chair for Chloe, easy as anything. "Dad, relax. It's just dinner."

Then he glances at me. "Scarlett, head home. I'll deal with you later."

Like I'm an inconvenience he double-booked.

He leans in, lowers his voice like he's doing me a courtesy.

"I didn't think you'd actually show.Tonight Chloe's the one I'm here for, okay?"

I laugh.

She's the one he's here for.

He's running cover for a mistress. Bringing her to family dinner before the ink on our divorce is dry.

I used to think Chloe was a phase. New toy, fresh smell, gone in a few months when he got bored.

Guess I had that one wrong.

Then his mother walks in. Her eyes slide over me, then over Chloe.

"So this is the pregnant one? Lovely. We just collect strays now, do we?"

One sentence. Two women insulted.

The Asher I used to know would've stepped in front of me.

“Scarlett is the woman I chose. Watch your mouth.”

Tonight he just frowns and pulls Chloe closer.

"Mom. Don't talk about my woman like that."

Sharper than he ever was when he was protecting me.

Chloe melts into his shoulder, eyes glistening, the perfect picture of a fragile thing under attack.

She always looks like the world is bullying her.

Not like me. I get insulted and my face doesn't even move. Whatever they throw at me, I just swallow it.

I stand up. "I'm leaving."

The old man calls after me. He can't make me stay.

Asher doesn't even look up.

The second I'm through the front gate, I think about that pilgrimage. The cathedral steps. The bloody knees.

“I don't need to be with Scarlett. I just need her to be okay.”

Well. He got his wish.

---

The divorce moves faster than I expected.

Asher figures we'll be remarried by Christmas anyway— Chloe pops the kid out, they hand it off to the housekeeper, life resumes.

The day we sign the settlement, he shows up forty minutes late.

But he signs. Smooth. No fuss.

Then he leans toward me, voice dropping into something almost coaxing.

"You always wanted a wedding, didn't you?"

"When we remarry, I'll throw you the real thing. The beach you love. The white dress you used to dog-ear in magazines. Whatever you want. I'll give you all of it."

I look up at him.

"Asher. Don't bother."