Chapter 2

When I got home, the house was empty.

I placed my bag on the kitchen counter but left the ultrasound photograph inside.

For almost two years, I had imagined bringing that picture home to Harrison.

Now I could not even look at it.

I sat at the kitchen table and waited.

A little over an hour later, the front door opened.

Harrison walked in carrying two large takeout bags and a cream-colored shopping bag.

The smell reached me first. Pepperoni pizza from my favorite place, garlic knots, tomato soup, and the chocolate cake I always pretended I was too full to eat.

The moment he saw me, he smiled.

“There you are.”

For eight years, that smile had meant home.

Now all I could see was him walking into Sabrina’s hospital room with white roses and a blue baby blanket.

“I know I missed your appointment,” he said, setting everything on the counter. “So I brought peace offerings.”

He lifted the cream-colored bag.

Inside was the cashmere coat I had stopped to admire months ago but refused to buy because it was too expensive.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.”

He took it out and placed it around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry about this morning.”

Then he kissed my forehead.

“How did the appointment go?”

The ultrasound photograph was still inside my bag.

Seven weeks.

A heartbeat.

The happiest news I had ever planned to give him.

“Nothing new,” I said.

His expression softened.

“We’ll keep trying.”

I looked at him.

Less than two hours earlier, he had been in the maternity ward with the son my cousin had already given him.

Now he was standing in our kitchen telling me we would keep trying for one of our own.

He opened the pizza box and put the largest slice on my plate.

“You barely ate yesterday.”

He remembered that too.

That was what hurt most.

Harrison still knew exactly how to take care of me.

He had not forgotten how to be my husband.

He had simply learned how to be someone else’s man at the same time.

He poured wine into two glasses.

“I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Why?”

“The medication has been making my stomach feel strange.”

Concern crossed his face.

“Did the doctor say something?”

For one second, I almost told him.

Some part of me still wanted to see the expression I had imagined for two years.

Then his phone rang.

Harrison glanced at the screen.

“I need to take this.”

He went upstairs.

A few seconds later, the old tablet on the counter lit up.

It was still synced to his phone.

Sabrina’s name appeared.

He finally stopped crying when you held him.

Another message followed.

I think he already knows his daddy.

Then a photograph appeared.

Harrison sat beside Sabrina’s hospital bed with the newborn sleeping against his chest.

He looked completely natural.

Like he had done it before.

I stared at the screen until it went dark.

Then I took out my phone.

My best friend, Claire, was a divorce attorney.

I sent her the photograph I had taken at the hospital.

Then I typed:

I need to ask you about getting a divorce.