Chapter 2

My phone vibrated.

It was a text from Lucas: *Did you get home yet?*

I didn't reply.

Another text popped up: *Who drove you home?*

I sent back one word: *A friend.*

The screen showed "typing..." for a long while before he finally sent: *We'll talk when I get home.*

I locked the screen.

When I arrived at our apartment, the living room was dark.

I slipped off my shoes, tossed my purse onto the sofa, and went into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

The phone buzzed again.

Lucas: *She just moved back. Her place is a mess, and there's a ton of heavy boxes to move. I have to help her sort it out. I'll be home late.*

I stared at the text and slowly typed: *Take your time. You don't have to come back at all.*

I took a shower, changed into pajamas, and started packing my things out of the master bedroom.

Item by item, I moved them into the guest bedroom.

The guest bed was smaller, but plenty for one person.

I smoothed out the sheets, fluffed the pillow, and cracked the window open to let in some fresh air.

Just before midnight, the front door clicked open.

Lucas was back.

His footsteps paused briefly in the living room.

When he saw me making the bed in the guest room, his brows instantly furrowed.

"What are you doing?"

"Moving my things."

I placed the last stack of clothes into the guest closet.

"You're back just in time. We need to talk."

He walked over and stood in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room.

"Moving what things? Why are you sleeping in here?"

I shut the closet door and turned to face him.

"Lucas, we aren't right for each other. Let's get a divorce."

"Since we're splitting up, sharing a bed is inappropriate."

He froze.

He stood stunned for several seconds, the blood visibly draining from his face before darkening with anger.

"What did you just say?"

"I said divorce. I'm pretty sure you heard me."

"Over dinner tonight?!"

His voice rose sharply.

"Chloe, aren't you being ridiculously petty? She just got back in town and bought us a meal to catch up! Is that really worth this?"

I leaned against the closet, crossing my arms over my chest.

"She evaluated my outfits right in front of me, sneered that I wasn't artsy enough, and said I didn't fit your past tastes. You call that catching up?"

"She was just making casual conversation! Why do you have to take everything so personally?"

"And what about you?"

I held his gaze.

"Right in front of your wife, you peeled shrimp for your ex, and said marriage and romance are two different things. Whose face were you trying to slap?"

Lucas's face tightened, his lips pressed into a hard line.

"I was just stating a fact. Marriage is practical by nature. Did I say anything untrue?"

"No, you didn't."

I nodded calmly.

"So I also stated a fact tonight: marrying you was just about suitability, not love. Did I say anything untrue either?"

He took a step toward me, looking down with an imposing glare.

"Chloe, you've changed. You never used to be this aggressive."

I had no desire to bicker with him.

"I've thought it through. We don't fit. We're getting a divorce."

"You think you can just call it quits whenever you want?"

He slammed his hand against the doorframe, his voice booming.

"Chloe, do you even realize what you're saying? Divorcing over something so trivial? Are you five years old?!"

"Trivial?"

My voice matched his volume instantly.

"Your ex comes back, you treat her like a queen, leave me out in the cold the entire night, insist on driving her home while telling me to take the subway—you call that trivial?"

"What counts as serious to you then? Waiting until the two of you crawl into the same bed?!"

"Watch your mouth!" he roared.

"Watch my mouth? If you have the guts to do it, don't be scared when someone calls you out on it!"