Chapter 3
The moment they left, I went to the study, opened the safe, and took out a folder.
Inside was the divorce agreement I had prepared a while back.
Three months earlier, when I first saw Emily's photo on Jonathan's phone, I had a bad feeling.
Two months earlier, when the late nights started and he stopped coming home, the feeling got stronger.
A month earlier, when I caught perfume in his car that wasn't mine, I had my lawyer draw the papers up.
I wasn't a fool, and I wasn't actually that understanding.
I had been waiting for the right moment.
And that night was the right moment.
Thanksgiving was the night everyone was supposed to come home.
He brought another woman home, played house with her in front of me, and walked through their history.
He assumed I would swallow it and keep acting like I knew nothing.
He was wrong.
Claire Sutton had never been anybody's doormat.
But for three years, I had packed my own light away for the sake of that marriage.
It was time he saw who I actually was.
At eleven-thirty, Jonathan came back.
I was in the living room waiting with the divorce papers in my hand.
"Claire, why are you still up?" He looked surprised.
"I was waiting for you," I said, standing up and walking over to him. "Jonathan, I want a divorce."
"What?" Jonathan froze, as if he thought he'd misheard me.
"I said, let's get a divorce," I repeated, my tone cool and unwavering.
"Claire, are you kidding me?" His face went pale.
"It isn't a joke." I handed him the papers. "Read it. If there's no problem, we go to the courthouse tomorrow."
Jonathan took the papers, his hands shaking.
"Claire, what is this? Is it because Emily came for dinner tonight?"
"It isn't tonight. It's the three years." I held his eyes. "Jonathan, do you think a marriage like ours is worth keeping?"
"Of course it is. Claire, we've been married three years and we've been fine. You can't end it over something this small."
"Small?" My laugh came out bitter. "You brought your first love home for Thanksgiving and sent me upstairs so the two of you could be alone. That's small?"
"Emily and I are work colleagues. She just got back and doesn't know anyone. What's wrong with helping her settle in?"
"And have you ever done that for your wife?"
Jonathan was completely at a loss for words.
"Jonathan, think it through. In three years, how long has it been since you sat down to a real meal with me? Since you talked to me? Since you touched me?"
Every question landed like a round in a vital spot.
"Work has been busy."
"Busy enough to bring another woman home on Thanksgiving? Busy enough to drive her to a hotel at midnight?" I cut in. "Jonathan, don't treat me like an idiot."
Jonathan stayed quiet a long time before he spoke. "Claire, I admit I've neglected you lately, but we can work on it. It doesn't have to be divorce."
"It's pointless now," I said, shaking my head. "Jonathan, three years has worn me out, and I'm done with this marriage."
"Claire, calm down. Don't do something you can't take back."
"I am calm." I met his eyes. "Jonathan, sign it."
Jonathan held the agreement, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Claire, do you really want this?" His voice caught.
"Yes." I didn't move an inch.
"Why? Because Emily came for dinner tonight?"
"Not only tonight." I sat back down. "Jonathan, tell me the truth. Are you still in love with Emily?"
That question left him completely stunned.
"I..." He opened his mouth and nothing came out.
"So you aren't sure yourself." My smile came out bitter. "Then what is there to discuss?"
"Claire, feelings don't work like that. Emily and I are in the past. You're my wife."
"The past?" I stood and walked right up to him. "Tonight she walked through your history in front of me. You didn't stop her, and you enjoyed it. That's the past?"
"I..."
"And why did you make her CFO? She has been back three months, and you trust her that much?"
"She's good at the job, and there's more to it."
"More to it how? Because she's your first love, so she gets special treatment?" I laughed coldly. "Jonathan, do you take me for blind?"
My question left him without an answer.
"Jonathan, let's sit down and do this properly." I settled back on the couch, calmer. "I'm going to ask you a few things. Answer honestly."
He sat too, but he left space between us.
"First question. In the three months since Emily came back, how many times have the two of you met alone?"
He hesitated. "The job requires it. Meeting is normal."
"I asked about meeting alone, outside of work."
Jonathan was silent a long time. "A few."
"How many times?" I pressed.
"Seven or eight."
Seven or eight times?
In three months, he and I hadn't been alone together seven or eight times.
"Second question. Did you buy her gifts?"
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Outside of work, did you buy her anything personal?"
Jonathan fell silent again.
"Yes." He admitted it in the end.
My heart sank.
"Third question. Did you talk to her about our marriage?"
That silence ran longer than the others.
"Yeah," Jonathan finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What did you tell her?"
"That things between us weren't good and we fought a lot."
So we fought a lot.
When had we ever fought a lot?
He was the one who shut me out while I talked to the walls.