Page 37 of Crashing Without Justice

Chapter 25

Harding~

While meeting Paige at the house was an epically bad idea, I wanted this shit over with enough to risk it. When she had texted me, accusing Trista of being the one to serve her the divorce papers, that’d been the final straw. While I was willing to allow Paige to exist inside her pain and anger, I couldn’t allow her to be completely delusional. So, against my better judgement, I had agreed to meet her at the house without any witnesses, determined to make her really hear me.

There was also the fact that I’d gotten a request from Officers Boone and Clinton to meet with them, wanting to inform me of how Paige had called their supervisor to report them for harassment. Just when I’d hoped that all the embarrassing moments were over, I’d been given a new dose of humiliation by two officers that had just been doing their jobs.

Awesome.

At any rate, even though I still had a key to the house, I’d chosen to knock, making sure to set the right tone for this meeting. I didn’t want to give Paige the wrong idea of why I was here, and if I acted like this house was still mine, she’d get that exact idea.

When the front door finally swung open, Paige looked surprised, and also a bit too dolled up for a random Sunday morning. “Why didn’t you just use your key?”

“Because I didn’t think that it was appropriate when you consider that I don’t live here anymore, Paige,” I answered evenly, praying that she didn’t fly off the handle.

Surprisingly, she smiled up at me. “Don’t be silly, Harding. This is still our house.”

Choosing to ignore that, I walked into the house as she stepped aside to let me in. I glanced around as I entered the living room, and while everything still looked the same, it all felt very different now. Despite me having a key to the front door and how most of my stuff was still here, this wasn’t my home any longer. I no longer belonged here or with Paige.

“Knowing you like I do, I know that you haven’t eaten breakfast this early yet, so I can make something afterwards-”

“Paige, I’m here to talk and that’s it,” I said, cutting her off. “I’m here to make it clear thatI’mthe one that had you served with the divorce papers, not Trista.”

She immediately stopped her rambling as she looked up at me, her brows furrowing with the news. “What?”

“I’m the one that decided to move forward with serving you the divorce papers, Paige,” I repeated. “No one else was involved.”

Paige started shaking her head, already refusing to listen. “I don’t believe that.”

I let out a sigh as I straightened to my full height. “Well, it’s the truth,” I informed her. “After everything that’s happened, I feel that we’re beyond the possibility of ever working things out.”

“You don’t mean that,” she said, her voice surprisingly even. “I’m not sure whatshehas on you, but I know that it’s her forcing you to say all this.”

“Paige, our marriage was over way before Trista ever entered the picture, and you know it,” I said, refusing to let her deflect. “Where we are today doesn’t rewrite history, and our marriage has been on the rocks for quite some time already, and you know it.”

“Harding-”

“Honestly, Paige,” I said, cutting her off again. “How often were we even sleeping together anymore?”

Her eyes widened, warning me that sex was the last thing that I should have mentioned. “Are you seriously throwing away our marriage over sex?”

“No,” I answered truthfully. “I’m ending it because there’s no longer anything there. We started drifting apart months ago, and that’s the reason behind the lull in our sex life.”

“We were not drifting apart,” she argued. “We still came home to each other every night.”

“So do roommates, Paige,” I pointed out. “And it’s more than just the lack of intimacy and emotional connection. It’s…it’s the outrageous busyness of all the stuff you need to include yourself in. If you put that kind of effort into our marriage, then we’d probably be fine right now.”

She gasped like a true victim. “What on earth are you talking about? You’re punishing me because I’m a caring person and offer my help on occasion?”

Christ on The Cross, she really was delusional. She really didn’t see any flaws in herself, and that was the very definition of a narcissist.

“What about all your entrepreneur ideas and all the money that it cost us?” I reminded her. “You always have these grand ideas, but you have no desire to put in the work to make them happen. I’ve dumpedthousandsofdollars on your fleeting schemes, and for what? For you to dismiss them all like it’s no big deal?”

“You act like we went hungry or something, Harding,” she huffed.

“That’s not the point,” I almost snapped. “I’m just trying to make you see how…how trying our marriage has been these past couple of years, and how my affair came way after the writing was already on the wall.”

“So, what?” she sneered. “You expect me to just sign the papers, and then let you go live your life like you don’t owe me?”

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