Page 35 of Size Doesn't Matter

“You knew I wanted kids, knew I wanted to start a family of my own. You got pregnant on purpose, knowing I would marry you. And as soon as that ring was on your finger—” He bit off what he was going to say, the pain lancing through his heart as fresh as the day he’d discovered her treachery, the day he’d discovered her miscarriage wasn’t all it seemed to be.

“Tell me why, Lisa,” he said through gritted teeth. “You owe me that much. Was it for the expense accounts? The big house? The fancy cars? Because you had all of thatbeforeI married you. So tell. Me. Why.”

Lisa stared at him for so long, remained silent for so long, that Jack thought she wasn’t going to answer him. But then she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and any hint of remorse she might have felt, even if it was self-serving, vanished completely. “It was never going to work, Jack.”

“Then why did you do what you did, knowing you would fall pregnant, knowing I would want to marry you?” he said, his impatience loud and clear in every word.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.” He needed to know, to hear her say it.

“Fine,” she said and crossed her arms. “Because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Are you happy now?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow exhale, tried to quell his temper. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he repeated slowly, trying to make sense of the words and failing. “Which part of any of this seemed like a good idea, Lisa?”

“Mostly, the part where I got away from my controlling-as-fuck father. How was I supposed to know you would be just as bad?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the doctor appointments, and the vitamins, and the yoga classes, and the parenting books, and the food restrictions. The never-ending stream of rules. I enjoyed your control in the bedroom, Jack, but your control outside of it was just too much to bear.”

Jack stared at his ex, his brow furrowed and his jaw slack as he tried to understand what she was saying. “So, because I showed an interest in your health and wellbeing, and that of our unborn child, I was too controlling?”

“Yes.”

“And instead of talking to me about it, you decided the best course of action was to have an abortion and try to pass it off as a miscarriage. Do I have that right?”

“Be glad I did, Jack,” she said, flicking an invisible piece of lint off her skirt, “or this whole situation would have been a lot more complicated.”

Jack bristled at her flippant attitude. How could she be so cold? So indifferent to the hurt she’d caused?

Closing his eyes, he counted to ten.

He only made it to four before his hurt morphed into rage and he was out of his chair, leaning over his desk and glaring at hiswifewith every ounce of hatred he possessed. “Sign the papers, Lisa,” he snapped. “I’m done.Thisis done. Take the two million and get the fuck out of my life. And if I have to ask you again, I will not be so polite.”

Lisa stared at him for what felt like an age, then huffed out a sigh, the sound heavy and resigned. “Very well.” Slowly, she pushed herself out of the leather chair, then took her time straightening her dress, until finally she picked up his fountain pen and flicked through the divorce papers, scribbling her signature next to all of the little yellow tabs. When she was done, she placed the pen on top of the pages, grabbed her handbag, and turned to leave, but not without uttering one more barb.

One more reminder of his failures.

“If I’m being completely honest,” she said, tucking her bag under her arm, “I’m not even sure if the kid was yours.”

“Get out,” he snarled at her, then watched every step she took until she reached the door, until one final thought had him calling her name. “Lisa.”

She didn’t say anything, just glanced back over her shoulder, waiting for him to speak.

“I truly hope you geteverythingyou deserve.”

Her eyes narrowed and her mouth pinched, the subtle jibe hitting its mark. Then she yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind her for what he hoped would be the last time.

Picking up the document, Jack flicked through the pages and made sure everything was in order, then dropped them back on his desk. A heavy breath of relief shuddered out of him as he lowered himself back into his chair, but his relief was short-lived as another knock sounded on his door.

“What?” he barked.

The door cracked open. “Jack?” Ethan stuck his head through the gap. “I just saw the harpy getting in the lift,” he said, his unasked question obvious in his expression.

“She signed them.”

“Thank fuck,” Ethan said, looking as relieved as Jack felt. “So, you up for a celebratory lunch?” He held up a takeaway bag from his favourite sushi restaurant and a cup tray with two chocolate shakes from his favourite retro cafe.

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