“I want a divorce, Greta.”
“Look at me and say it, Robert!”
His jaw tightened, but he faced me.
“I don’t want you here.”
I searched his face.
“Is this fear talking?”
“No.”
“Then why are your hands shaking?”
“Is this fear talking?”
He shoved them into his pockets.
“I want to spend the time I have left with the person I love.”
My fingers closed around the pill.
“Who?”
“Claire.”
I laughed once.
“I want to spend the time I have left with the person I love.”
Not because it was funny, but because Claire had always seemed like an ordinary coworker.
“Your coworker?”
“She understands me, Greta. More than you.”
“I’ve known you since you owned one suit and thought canned soup counted as dinner.”
“Knowing my habits isn’t the same as knowing me.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Long enough.”