“If Philadelphia wins tonight, we get divorced.” Marcus said it without looking at me, his eyes fixed on the television as if he had suggested ordering another pizza instead of ending our five-year marriage.
Chapter 1
The Eagles were comfortably ahead, and everyone crowded into our friends’ living room was already celebrating. Beer bottles crowded the coffee table. Someone had started passing around victory cigars that nobody was supposed to light indoors. I stared at Marcus while the roar of the stadium spilled from the speakers, wondering whether he had rehearsed the sentence or whether cruelty had simply become casual for him.
“What do you say, Claire?” he asked.
That afternoon, I had seen a post from his executive assistant, Hailey Bennett.
Marcus says if Philadelphia wins tonight, we can finally stop hiding.
Underneath those words was a photograph of a positive pregnancy test.
Eight weeks.
Marcus had commented beneath it with three heart emojis and the words, Soon, sweetheart.
For three years I had known something was happening between them. For almost as long, Marcus had denied it, minimized it, or twisted the facts until I wondered whether I was imagining things.
I wasn’t imagining anything anymore.
There were sixty seconds left in the game when I turned toward him.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take the bet.”
Marcus finally looked at me.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
The room exploded seconds later. Philadelphia had won, and people jumped from couches, hugged, shouted, spilled drinks, and pounded Marcus on the shoulder because they thought his stunned expression had something to do with football.
I leaned closer so he could hear me through the celebration.
“You won.”
He stared at me.
“So I agree to the divorce.”
For the first time that night, Marcus looked afraid.
We left before anyone noticed something was wrong.
Halfway home, his phone connected automatically to the car speakers. A voice message began playing before Marcus could stop it.
“Marcus! They actually won!” Hailey squealed. “So that means you’re really going to do it, right? We can finally tell everyone about us. No more hiding. The baby and I are waiting.”
The message ended.
Neither of us spoke for several blocks.
Marcus glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Claire—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“It wasn’t supposed to play.”
“I know.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “The bet was just something stupid I told her before the game. She gets emotional lately.”
I watched streetlights slide across the passenger window.
Then Marcus sighed.
“But since we’ve been together this long, maybe it’s time I stopped pretending this isn’t serious.”
There it was.
Not remorse. Not shame.
Relief.
I nodded. “Have your attorney prepare the papers.”
He looked over sharply. “There’s no reason to rush.”
“We wouldn’t want to delay your big announcement.”
His jaw tightened.
For three years, Hailey had occupied the invisible space between us. Marcus had refused to leave me, yet he had also refused to leave her. I understood why now. He wanted to protect her reputation until he could rewrite the story neatly enough that she would appear after our marriage instead of during it.
A few minutes later he slowed the car.
“Hailey’s building lost power,” he said. “She’s scared of the dark.”
I almost laughed.
“Drop me at the corner.”
“Claire.”
“It’s fine.”
He pulled over.
As I opened the door, he said, “I probably won’t come home tonight.”
I looked back at the man I had loved for eight years.
“Okay.”
That single word seemed to disturb him more than any accusation could have.
I walked the rest of the way home.
An hour later, another notification appeared on my phone.
Hailey had posted again.
Philadelphia won. Marcus won his bet. Our little family can finally begin.
The picture showed her hand over his, both resting on top of an ultrasound report.
My fingers moved instinctively toward my own abdomen.
Inside my purse was the medical report from the appointment I had attended the previous morning.
Four weeks pregnant.
My second pregnancy.
I stared at Hailey’s happy announcement until the words blurred, then opened my contacts and called my attorney.
“David,” I said when he answered, “I need you to prepare divorce papers.”
I hesitated, my hand still resting over the life Marcus did not know existed.
“And I need them as soon as possible.”
