Page 77 of Stealing His Cupcake
This is not happening.
I’m about to break down into tears when the doorbell rings. My heart perks up for a microsecond before I realize Wyatt wouldn’t ring a damned doorbell. Maybe it’s the police?
A glance through the peephole reveals a middle-aged man wearing a polo with an unfamiliar company logo and holding a manila envelope. “Who is this?” I ask through the door. I might be rattled by Wyatt’s disappearance, but I’m not about to let a complete stranger inside. “What do you want?”
“I’m with Bellhorne Legal Services,” the man responds. “I’m looking for Amy Hudges. I have some legal documents for her.”
Legal documents? What the actual hell?
Memories of how Nolan tried to lure me out of the house under false pretenses are still too fresh in my mind, so I stay cautious. “Do you have an ID to prove you are who you say you are?”
“Of course, ma’am.” Shifting the envelope to the other hand, the man fishes out his wallet and holds up an ID card. I don’t recognize the logo of the company, but it’s the same as the one on his shirt and there is a photo resembling the man on the other side of the door. Sure, all of that could be faked, but it seems like a lot of work just to get me to open the door.
He eyes the scorch marks on the door curiously as I open it, but doesn’t comment on them. “I’m Amy Hudges,” I say, wrapping the robe tighter around my chest to cover my pajamas. There’s not much I can do about the tear-splotched face, but the man doesn’t comment on that either. He merely holds up the envelope.
As I grab it with trembling fingers, he nods. “You have been served.”
I gawk at him, incapable of uttering a single word. Served? Don’t they tell that to people who are about to be on trial for some crimes? My first thought is that I’m about to be imprisoned for killing Nolan, but that’s ridiculous. How would they find out about that? And wouldn’t the police come instead of this…delivery guy? “I don’t understand,” I murmur, only realizing I’ve said it out loud when the man gives me a professional smile.
“They’re divorce papers, ma’am. Everything you need to know is in the envelope.” With that, he marches off, like he didn’t just turn my life into crumbling ruins by two simple words.
Divorce papers.
Convinced it must be some sort of mistake, I tear open the envelope, my vision blurred with tears as I stare at the documents.Petition for divorce. Dissolution of marriage. Family court. Division of assets.The words jump out at me, each like a punch to my gut. And the worst of them.Petitioner: Wyatt Archer.His signature taunts me from every page.
Then there is a handwritten note.
“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. You deserve someone better. Have a great life, cupcake. W.”
Papers scatter over the threshold as the envelope slips from my hands. The note crumples in my fist. I crumple with it.
Chapter 55
Amy
Idon’tknowhowlong I sit hugging my knees in the doorway, sobbing so hard my throat is raw and my bathrobe is soaked with tears and snot. The papers flutter around me in the mild breeze, and I should probably pick them up, but I can’t find the strength. I can’t find the strength to do anything but weep, and even that is becoming harder with how numb I feel.
He left.
He actually left.
Not just that. He filed for a divorce, which means he planned this. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. Those last few days when he was acting all strange? I thought it was a belated trauma reaction or some crap like that when, in reality, he was arranging to get rid of me.Dissolution of marriage.Like I’m some persistent stain he needed to remove from his life.
What did I do wrong?
I took care of him as he healed, helped him with everything he couldn’t do with the barely healed hole in his stomach. I cooked his favorite foods, baked his favorite treats. I tried to cheer him up.
It feels like Craig all over again, except Craig at least told me what I did wrong. Wyatt didn’t bother. He just tossed me away. He left without a single word and it hurts. It hurts so much more than being shot. It hurts so damn much I’m not sure if I’ll survive it, and the deafening silence surrounding me doesn’t help.
Alone, alone, you’re alone, it screams, and covering my ears with my hands as I weep doesn’t help. Nothing helps. Wyatt doesn’t want me. Perhaps he never wanted me. Perhaps I was just a bit of fun to him. A prank. Perhaps, just like Craig, he wanted to see how far he can string me along. After all, what is a girl who falls for the man who kidnapped her other than a stupid joke?
Have a great life.
Like I could just go back to the way things were before I met him. As if my life before Wyatt was worth a damn. Is he going to go back to the great life he led before meeting me?
He said I was his. Forever. Is this what forever means in Wyatt-speak? Two months? Two damned months?!
Something scorchingly hot rises from the very base of my soul, spreading through my veins like bubbling lava and burning through the numbness. It’s like when I got angry with Craig for dying and denying me the chance at confrontation. Times a thousand. Except Craig was beyond my reach. Wyatt is not.
