The Divorce He Refused to Sign Chapter 03
Julian didn’t come home for days.
Isabella kept me updated on their latest adventures through anonymous accounts.
“I heard you’ve always wanted to go riding. Julian took me today.”
“He brought me to the dock where you two first met. I had that palm tree you planted cut down. He just laughed and called me naughty.”
“I once mentioned wanting him to cook for me. He remembered. After all those years together, you never got that kind of treatment?”
Every offhand remark landed like a punch to the stomach.
On the sixth day, Julian finally showed up.
He was wasted, reeking of whiskey and smoke. The second he saw me, rage flared in his eyes.
“Rory, I was gone for days and you didn’t even look for me?”
“You used to call me every hour. Now nothing…”
His tone shifted from petulant to soft, his expression
softening into that of a wounded stray finally allowed
back into the house.
As if hours earlier he hadn’t been dancing with
Isabella on the beach.
I calmly pushed his hand away.
“You’re drunk. I’ll have someone make you coffee.”
I turned to leave.
Crash!
The glass fruit bowl shattered on the floor, shards flying everywhere.
Julian held up his bleeding hand.
“Baby, I’m hurt.”
I ignored the act.
“Stay here. I’ll call the doctor.”
His face darkened instantly.
“I don’t want a doctor. I want you.”
“You weren’t like this before. You’d ask if it hurt.
Now you’re so cold. You’re not my Rory anymore.”
He used to pull this shit whenever we fought. Sulking like a kid, frowning and rambling about how I didn’t pay him enough attention.
I used to find it cute. Now it just sounded like noise.
I pried his fingers off my sleeve and headed for the bedroom.
He stayed there the entire night.
The next morning, he was still sitting there, his jaw tight.
“Rory, do you really want me gone that badly? You left me on the couch all night.”
I frowned. Before I could respond, a voice cut in.
“Wow. Rough start for you two. Looks like we picked a bad time.”
Marco stood in the doorway with Isabella beside him.
A careful distance separated them–nothing like a newlywed couple should have.
Marco grinned and slung an arm around Julian’s shoulders.
“Julian, what did you do this time to upset our queen?”
“Don’t be mad at him, Rory. He doesn’t know how to
treat a woman right. I’ll set him straight for you.”
Julian shoved him off, tone sharp.
“What are you doing here?”
His gaze flicked toward Isabella, full of warning and irritation.
Marco either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Got some good news. Big news.” He looked at
Isabella’s stomach. “She’s three weeks pregnant. We confirmed it this morning.”
I stared at her flat belly, fingers trembling.
They were having a child.
I had one once too. I was already nine months pregnant.
But three months ago, Julian took me on a trip up
north. A driver who’d downed two bottles of vodka slammed a Buick straight into us head–on.
I was hurt so badly the doctors had to remove
everything, including my uterus. I lost my baby–and with it, any chance of ever having another child.
And now Isabella was pregnant.
Julian’s anger vanished. He smiled and clapped Marco on the back.
“Congrats, brother.”
I knew he was happy for himself too.