Every Wrong Reason(68)

She let out another big sigh and I took that as a yes.

“Well, listen, if his lawyer puts you on the stand, would you please pick me? I can spoil you too.”

Her brown puppy eyes lifted to stare at me with an indolent, “Yeah, right.”

I stuck my tongue out at her and walked to the front door. “He’s not going to get you. Get that thought out of your head right now.”

It still made me sick that he would even consider taking Annie from me. She was my dog. I was happy that he didn’t hate her like I thought he did. But that didn’t mean he should win her in our divorce.

And I hated him for trying to.

The door was at least locked. That should have soothed some of my anger, but by the time I reached it, I was really starting to get worked up.

What had started as melancholy remorse quickly turned into outraged fury. How dare he try to take Annie from me! How dare he try to take my house and get partial custody of a kid that didn’t even exist!

If he wanted this divorce as much as I did, then why did he have to make it so difficult?

Why couldn’t he just let me go?

Why couldn’t he just walk away and leave me to the embarrassing remnants of my shattered life?

When I turned around and saw Annie happily lounging in the new bed he bought her I saw red. It was even gray to match the living room as if he thought he wasn’t just going to win the house, but everything inside the house too!

I pulled out my phone and jabbed my finger at it. He had officially ruined Christmas for me.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been that great to begin with, but this was the last straw. He had pushed me over the edge and he was going to get a piece of my mind.

“Did you find it?” his rough, low voice asked. There was no hello, no merry Christmas, only the slightly nervous question that stripped all the wind from my sails.

“The dog bed?”

“The picture.”

“What picture?”

“Were you calling about the dog bed?”

“I was… I was calling… What picture?”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

His low chuckle carried through the phone and I felt my anger begin to disintegrate. “I mean, where are you in the house?”

“Oh.” I took a needed breath. “In the living room. By the dog bed.”

“Look up.”

I did. I looked at the far wall and at the new picture hanging there. It had an ornately golden frame. Antique, I thought immediately. The picture wasn’t of people, but words. I couldn’t read them from here. They were written with curly black letters on a soft gray background.

Even though I didn’t know what it said, I could tell that it matched everything perfectly. It looked amazing on the wall. It brought everything together and added a bit of flare.

But why would there be a picture on the wall?

“What is it?” I whispered.

“You should go read it?” His voice pitched lower, trying to disguise his nerves. If I hadn’t known him so well, I wouldn’t have noticed. But I did know him. I knew him so well.

I didn’t move.

“Kate,” he whispered as if he could see my feet stuck in place and the way my hands trembled. “Go read it.”

I shook my head, but he couldn’t see me.

“Please.”

It was the broken plea that scratched from his throat that made me finally move. I couldn’t say no to that. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I wanted to believe I could move on from this man, I couldn’t. Not if he said please like that.

Not if he sounded like he needed me to look at this picture more than he needed to breathe.

I had only turned on the lamp in the living room, so it was still fairly dark as I walked over to the wall. I bumped into the coffee table and clipped my shin because I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to where I was going.

I found it harder and harder to swallow as I made my way to the wall. It took seconds, but I had myself so worked up by the time I reached the picture that I was worried I would pass out.

I propped one knee on a chair and leaned in.

Love that is enough.

Love that is big enough for two.

Love that is endless enough for more.

Love that is just between me and you.

My voice trembled as I asked, “What is it?”

I had heard his breath quiver before he asked, “Do you like it?”

“Nick, what is it?”

His sigh told me everything he didn’t say. He didn’t want to tell me what it was. He didn’t want to explain his actions or motives or anything. He just wanted me to like it.

But I couldn’t do that. I had to know. I had to know where it came from.

What made him do it?

“Do you remember Jared’s old girlfriend? The weird artist one?” I sucked in a sharp breath while he paused. Finally, he admitted, “Last year. I had it made for you last Christmas.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” I closed my eyes to stop the tears that threatened to spill over. Last year he’d gotten me a new Kindle. Mine had stopped turning on and I asked him for one. He’d gotten the exact one I’d picked out.

It had been a great gift. It had been exactly what I wanted.

But this… This was something… else.