“Actually,” she said loudly enough for Brenda to hear, “we have more than she knows.”
A chair scraped on the other end.
Then Thomas grabbed the phone.
“Emma, stop this before you destroy the family.”
Amanda’s pen froze.
I looked at her.
There it was again.
Not an apology.
Not concern for our baby.
A warning that my refusal to keep absorbing the damage was somehow the destructive act.
“Which family?” I asked.
“The one that watched me leave?”
“You walked out.”
“After you asked for a divorce.”
“I was angry.
Brenda was pushing me.
You know how she gets.”
Across the desk, Amanda wrote three words on a yellow legal pad.
Keep him talking.
“So Brenda made you ask your pregnant wife for a divorce?”
“I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
“You knew after I showed you the orders.”
He lowered his voice.
“And then you left anyway.”
