Michaela came back to the living room a minute later, her face pulling into a puzzled frown when she saw me in the same spot. She leaned into my chest, her hands coming up to my jaw.

“Did you have a long day? You look like you’ve been out for a run.”

“Yeah, I ran.” My fingers circled her wrists. “What’d you do this morning?”

Again, her eyes shifted. “Mac and I ran an errand, then we stopped—”

“You saw your ex.”

Her lips pursed, and she nodded. “Yes, he texted while I was out this morning. But how did you know?”

“Everyone fucking knows, Michaela. Were you too wrapped up in that dickhead to see the paparazzi shooting pictures of the two of you? You looked real fucking cozy together.”

She pushed away from me. “What are you doing?”

“What areyoudoing? Why are you even here?”

She took another step back. “I thought you wanted me here.”

“I wanted mywifehere. Not someone else’s wife. I’m such a fool, Mic. I’ve been falling in love with you, and you’ve got a contingency plan tucked away in your boxes—which youstillhaven’t unpacked…” I stormed over to the dining room table, holding up the thick stack of papers that had the power to end our fragile marriage.

Michaela’s hands balled at her hips. Any confusion left her beautiful face, replaced by the wall she so easily erected in my presence.

“You’re proving how wise I was to keep that contingency.” She pointed a finger at me. “You, of all people, know how easily pictures can be misconstrued, but the second I walk in the door, you’re accusing me of…what? Having an affair with my horrible ex while I’m hugely pregnant with your child? Is that really what you’re saying?”

“Don’t turn this around on me. My heart fucking broke finding those divorce papers. And then I got to see you withhimwhen you won’t go anywhere in public with me.” I shoved my hand through my hair. “I need…”

“What? What do you need? My signature in blood? To erase my past? Tell me what you need, Mo.”

Exhaling, I met her shimmering eyes. “Space.”

She barely reacted. One hand went to her stomach as she gave a slight nod. “I’ll leave.”

What kind of man threw the mother of his child out? I had a lot of shortcomings, but that wasn’t one of them.

“No, you won’t. I’m going to go over to Murray’s, give myself a chance to think. I don’t want to yell at you, Mic. I won’t. But right now, I’m too worked up to be around you.”

She turned away from me, blinking fast. “Go then.”

I did. It fucking shattered me. I didn’t want to. It felt wrong to leave, Iknewit was wrong to leave, but I walked out my front door anyway—walked out on my only love, who’d broken me down and forgotten to build me back up. I left, and I didn’t know if she’d ever let me come back.