Chapter 4

I'd meant to talk to Chad about the divorce, but he wouldn't pick up.

I called five or six times, and every one went dead. I sent three texts, all read, none answered.

I dug out the key to the marital house, figuring I'd just slide the divorce agreement through the gap in the door.

The door opened onto a lit living room, a takeout box on the coffee table, chopsticks laid across the rim, a half-finished glass of red wine beside it.

I took two steps in and was about to call out when Sapphire poked her head out of the bedroom doorway.

She had on my loungewear, her hair loosely pinned up, her face pink and fresh, her lips flushed, nothing like the pale, sickly woman from the hospital that day.

She held a slice of watermelon, and when she saw me she didn't flinch. She smiled instead.

"Oh, hi, big sister Deidre. Here to collect your things?"

I ignored her and glanced into the bedroom.

She leaned against the doorframe. "Don't bother looking. Chad's not here. He went out to dinner with friends. Said he won't be back tonight, told me to stay here for now."

She tilted her head at me. "Your face healed up fast, huh. I thought it'd leave a scar."

"That would've been perfect. Standing next to my Chad, you'd carry that mark forever. Suits you."

I set my bag on the entryway cabinet and bent to change my shoes.

"This is my home. Get out."

"Your home?" She laughed out loud and dropped the watermelon rind on the floor by her feet.

"Sure, your name's on the marriage certificate with Chad's, fine. But put your hand on your heart and ask yourself. Is there one single thing he didn't put me first for?"

"He picked this house. He oversaw the renovation. Even that slap on your face, he asked me about it first."

I crouched down, picked up the rind she'd thrown, and dropped it in the trash.

That only egged her on. Her voice climbed higher.

"Deidre, you really think you can keep him? When I met him, you weren't even in line yet."

"He feels for me. He tells me everything. He said you're a dull person, every little calculation of yours written right on your face, that marrying you was just settling."

"He said before the wedding you clung to him every single day, annoyed him to death."

"Said aside from your looks being passable, there's nothing about you he thinks twice about. Said you can't even cry right. You can't even fake it convincingly."

Her voice was sweet and soft, like she was chatting about something worth being happy over. "Big sister, if I were you, I'd be too embarrassed to come knock on this door."

I stood up and pressed the lid back down on the trash.

"Are these your things?"

I pointed at the pile of clothes on the couch.

"Chad bought them for me." She lifted her chin. "What, jealous?"

I didn't answer. I rolled up her pile of clothes and set it on the mat outside the door.

She started up again, sharper this time.

"You went to all that trouble to get married, and for what? For his money? For that face of his? Isn't your mom a divorce lawyer? Didn't you pick up a trick or two on how to keep a man tied down?"