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After cleaning upin the bathroom, I decide some warm tea sounds good. I head towards the kitchen before heading back out to Heath. I’ll make him a cup too. Once the Keurig is filled, I search for the pods in the cupboard. Liam’s warning about Heath’s intentions float through my mind, but I shake them free. I initiated that just as much as Heath did, and I’m not going to have Heath end up being the bad guy here. That was some of the best sex in my life, and there’s no way I’m going to have regrets.

“Heath!” I yell from the kitchen, hoping he can hear me, “where did you move the tea pods?”

Yanking the drawer open directly under the pot, I push through a few pieces of mail, until I see what looks like court documents. I reach into the drawer, I grab the papers. When my eyes make out what they are, my stomach drops. The tea long forgotten, I read what they are. Dissolution of Marriage heads the top of the page. The places where its states petitioner and respondent are blank.

He printed divorce papers?Tears instantly spring to my eyes. My legs become weak, and my heart begins to race. He printed divorce papers. My mind races over the past few months, trying to catalogue the conversations, the times when he voiced his fears. All along, he’s taken the time to print up papers that could easily end our marriage. This isn’t what I wanted.

Am I the reason?

“Whit?” His voice startles me, making me flinch. When I meet his eyes, the color drains from his face when he notices what I’m holding in my hand. “No.” He shakes his head, and he takes a step forward.

“No!” I scream back, lifting my other hand signaling that he needs to stop. I drop the papers and rush past him. His hand brushes against my arm before I pull it from his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” I yell over my shoulder grabbing my purse and scurrying from the house.

“Whitney, you have to listen to me.” His voice is right behind me. “You need to let me explain.”

Spinning around, I fling my hand, making contact with his face, slapping him with more force than I thought I was capable of. The sting in my hand radiates up my arm, hitting my heart and crushing everything I thought I knew of this man.

“You don’t get to explain,” I cry.

I make it to my car, pulling at the handle, wanting nothing more than to be in the comfort of my condo. “I don’t get to explain? I don’t get to explain?” he roars. “You can’t be serious right now. You’re the one that has been begging me to talk to you, and now you’re not going to let me explain myself? The one time I need you to listen, you don’t want to?”

I slam the door closed and start my car. Pressing my foot on the gas, the tires squeal in the stillness of the night.