Delaney James was wearing Chanel the night her husband told her he didn't love her anymore.
In an instant, her picture-perfect Manhattan life-complete with a brownstone on the Upper East Side, a blossoming career as a fashion journalist, and a devas...
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"What are you doing here?"
The question comes out sharper than I intend, but the sound barely registers. For months, I'd wondered how it would feel to see Will again. Now that he's standing on my parents' porch, all I can do is stare.
There had been a time when I'd imagined this moment more times than I could count. I'd imagined it lying awake in bed long after midnight, while helping my mother in her classroom, during quiet mornings spent watching the ocean wake up. More than once, I'd wondered what I would do if Will ever showed up and asked for another chance.
In every version, I had something clever to say. Something devastating. Something that would leave him speechless.
Now that he's actually here, all I can think is that he looks older. Tired. And somehow completely unfamiliar.
"I came for you," Will says, and something about the certainty in his voice turns my stomach.
He isn't asking for a conversation or hoping for a second chance. He's standing here acting as though the last several months never happened, as though he still has the right to make decisions for me.
"I came to take you home."
Beside me, Greyson goes so still I can feel the tension rolling off him.
"You what now?" he asks quietly.
"What do you mean you're taking me home?" I cut in before he can say anything else. "We're in the middle of a divorce."
His jaw tightens. "A divorce that's a mistake."
"Is that right?"
"I messed up."
A humorless laugh escapes Greyson as he folds his arms across his chest. "Damn right you did."
Will doesn't even glance at him. His attention stays locked on me, and that's when I realize he's looking at me the same way he does when he's trying to win a case – focused, determined, already convinced he knows how this ends.
"You're my wife, Delaney. We shouldn't throw our marriage away over one stupid mistake."
I stare at him in disbelief.
One stupid mistake. That's what he's calling it.
Not months of lies. Not sneaking around behind my back. Not the countless nights I spent wondering why the man I loved had suddenly become distant and cold. Somehow, he's managed to reduce the destruction of our marriage to a careless lapse in judgment, as though forgetting an anniversary and having an affair belong in the same category.
"And Chelsea?" I ask. "You expect me to forget all about her?"
Will takes a step toward me, and Greyson immediately shifts beside me. He doesn't move between us, but the message is loud and clear.
