Chapter 4

That night, Mom and I talked for a long time. Before hanging up, she said, "Fine. I can't talk you out of this. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"You can get divorced, but don't leave a single dollar on the table. Sunny's child support, the house, the savings, you fight for all of it. Don't let that Reed guy make things easy for that homewrecker."

I couldn't help laughing. "Mom, how do you know she's a homewrecker?"

"A woman who can wrap your man around her finger like this, what else would she be? Listen to me. Fight for everything that's yours. Don't go soft." Mom said.

"Okay. I'll remember that." I said.

After hanging up, I leaned back against the couch and looked at the moon outside the window. Sunny was sleeping soundly in the bedroom, her breathing light and soft.

I suddenly remembered the way she'd looked when she made her wish today, eyes squeezed shut, little lips moving as she whispered to herself. Then she blew hard, the candles went out, and she looked up at me with a smile, her eyes shining.

And then David smashed that light to pieces. I would never let anyone shatter her light again. Not even her father.

The next morning, David came back. He stood in the living room looking worn out, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept at all.

I was braiding Sunny's hair and didn't even look up. "Sarah," he said, his tone softer than yesterday, "we need to talk."

Sunny turned and looked at him, then turned back around and stayed perfectly still so I could finish her braids. "About what?"

"About the divorce." He walked over and sat across from me. "I thought about it all night. I think you said it in the heat of the moment. What happened yesterday was my fault. I shouldn't have smashed the cake. I'm sorry."

I looked up at him. He had apologized. In seven years of marriage, he had almost never apologized.

Every time we fought, he'd give me the cold shoulder for a few days, then come back acting like nothing happened, and I'd swallow it for Sunny's sake. But this time was different.

"David," I said after tying off Sunny's braid, patting her head, "go play in your room. Mommy and Daddy need to talk." Sunny nodded, ran into the bedroom, and shut the door. I turned back to him. "What is it you want to say?"

"I told you, I was impulsive yesterday." He frowned. "But Sarah, you're blowing this way out of proportion. There's nothing between me and Emily. We're friends. Do you really have to make this into such a huge deal?"

I said nothing. "You can't throw around the word divorce. Sunny is still little. How's she supposed to hold her head up later?" He added.

"Why wouldn't she be able to?" I asked.

"A kid without a dad, you think she can keep her head up?" He said.

I looked at him and suddenly found it a little funny. "David, whether Sunny has a father and whether she can hold her head high are two different things.

If anything, the part that should embarrass her is having a father who smashes her cake and runs to someone else's house every day."

His face darkened. "Do you really have to put it like that?"

"I'm telling the truth." I said.

He took a deep breath, like he was forcing down his anger. "Fine. I get that you're mad. I promise it won't happen again, okay? I'll buy another cake. I'll make up Sunny's birthday. Isn't that enough?"

I looked at his face. He meant it. He really thought he'd made some huge concession, that I should be grateful, take the out he was giving me, maybe even throw myself into his arms crying that I was wrong for making a fuss.

Because in his world, a man saying sorry was some kind of priceless gift. Too bad I wasn't living in that world anymore.