I stepped into the living room—and froze.
She stood beside him: tall, elegant, her lips curved into a smirk that could cut glass. Her hand rested on his arm, like she owned him.
“Well, darling,” she purred, eyes sliding over me, “you weren’t exaggerating. She really let herself go. Such a shame—she has decent bone structure, though.”
For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.
“Excuse me?” I managed to whisper.
Stan sighed. “Lauren, we need to talk. This is Miranda… and I want a divorce.”
I blinked, as if the word might dissolve if I waited. “A divorce? What about our kids? What about us?”
“You’ll manage,” he said flatly. “I’ll send child support. But Miranda and I are serious. I brought her here so you’d understand—I’m not changing my mind.”
Then came the final blow.
“Oh, and by the way—you can sleep on the couch tonight or go to your mom’s. Miranda’s staying over.”
I stared at him, trying to recognize the man I’d loved for fourteen years.
