My Husband Threw Me Out Because I “Couldn’t Give Him a Family” — Eighteen Months Later, I Walked Into His Wedding Holding the Hands of Three Children
Not guilty.
Not nervous.
Irritated.
Like my heartbreak was an inconvenience delaying his evening.
Then a woman stepped into view behind him.
I recognized her immediately.
Savannah Price.
Thirty years old.
Blonde.
Perfect teeth.
Perfect posture.
Perfect little cream-colored dress that looked carefully chosen to say, I already live here.
She had been Grant’s “executive consultant” for nearly a year.
Apparently she had been consulting him on more than business.
Savannah rested one hand on the back of the sofa.
The sofa I had ordered.
In the living room I had decorated.
Inside the home where I had spent eleven years trying to become a mother.
Then Grant’s mother appeared.
Elaine Whitmore.
Pearls.
Silk blouse.
Wine glass.
The same disapproving expression she had worn at every Christmas dinner, birthday party, anniversary brunch, and family vacation since the second year of my marriage.
Elaine looked at my suitcase and sighed.
“Please don’t turn this into something ugly, Claire.”
I almost laughed.
Something ugly?
My marriage was ending while my husband’s mistress stood barefoot in my living room.
But apparently I was the one in danger of making the evening uncomfortable.
Grant finally walked outside.
“I didn’t want you finding out this way.”
I stared at him.
“You packed my clothes.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You knew things haven’t been working.”
“No. I knew you stopped speaking to me unless you needed something.”
“That’s not fair.”
I looked through the doorway at Savannah.
“Which part?”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Elaine walked onto the patio before he could answer.
