Chapter 4
"Jonathan, in three years, how many real fights have we had?" I looked at him. "Three. Three, and every one was because you stayed out all night and I was afraid something had happened to you."
"Claire, that isn't what I meant."
"Then what did you mean? Did you want Emily believing our marriage was a wreck so she'd think she had an opening?"
"No!" he shot back, his voice tight with emotion.
"Then why say it?" I held his eyes. "Jonathan, do you want a divorce? Do you want to be with Emily?"
"I didn't."
"You didn't what? You never thought about divorcing me? Or you never thought about being with her?"
Jonathan had nowhere left to go.
His silence was the answer.
"I see." I nodded. "Since that's what you want too, we can each take what we need and go."
"Claire, it isn't what you think."
"Jonathan, stop explaining," I cut in. "Sign it. Let's end this cleanly."
"I'm not signing." He came up hard. "Claire, I won't sign. We are not getting divorced."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't give you up." He grabbed my hand. "Claire, I know I've been terrible lately, but I can't give you up."
I looked at him without anything moving in me.
"Jonathan, not being able to give me up isn't love. You're used to having me here, used to someone doing your laundry and cooking your meals and taking your silence."
"That isn't true."
"It is." I pulled my hand back. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have brought another woman home on Thanksgiving, wouldn't have made me a stranger in my own house, and wouldn't have told her our marriage was bad."
Every line hit, and Jonathan's face kept getting worse.
"Claire, give me one chance. I swear it won't happen again."
"Jonathan, do you know how many times you've said that in three years?" I stood up. "Every time I asked you for anything, you said it would be different. And nothing ever changed."
"This time is different."
"You say that every time." My laugh had no warmth in it. "Jonathan, I don't believe you anymore."
He looked at me, his eyes filled with despair.
"Claire, are you really leaving me?"
"Yes," I replied without hesitation.
"And if I don't sign?"
"Then I file." I had thought it through already. "Jonathan, you're smart enough to know that forcing this gets neither of us anything."
He was silent for a long time before finally speaking. "Claire, I need some time to think."
"Fine. You get three days." I checked my watch. "It's Tuesday. I want an answer by Friday."
"And if I still say no after three days?"
"Then I'll take it as a yes and file at the courthouse."
Jonathan went completely silent.
"Jonathan, three years, and I believed you loved me, or at least cared. Tonight I found out I matter less to you than an ex who has been back three months."
"Claire," he said.
"Don't explain. I understand it." I headed for the stairs. "I'm sleeping in the guest room. Get some rest. I have somewhere to be tomorrow, so there won't be breakfast."
"Claire!" he called out behind me.
I didn't look back.
In the guest room, I shut the door, put my back against it, and finally let the tears come.
Three years of marriage, over like that.
My phone buzzed with a message. Michael: [Ms. Sutton, please bring photo ID tomorrow. I have something important to give you.]
ID card?
What did he have that needed my identity verified?
I wiped my face and answered: [All right.]
Whatever came the next day, I had made up my mind.
That failed marriage needed to end.