Anything.
Tell his mother to stop.
Defend me once.
Show me that eight years had meant something.
Instead, Grant looked away.
That tiny movement answered every question I had carried throughout our marriage.
Had he ever truly chosen me?
Had he ever been willing to stand between me and Patricia when it mattered?
No.
The answer had always been no.
I simply hadn’t wanted to accept it.
Patricia shook her car keys in the air.
“Come on, everyone! Lunch is on me. Today we celebrate!”
And they did.
The whole family streamed down the courthouse steps, laughing and congratulating Grant.
They called him a free man.
Someone told him his best years were still ahead of him.
Vivian said something that made the group roar with laughter.
Then they climbed into two black luxury SUVs and headed toward Buckhead.
Patricia’s favorite steakhouse was there.
The staff knew her by name.
