The Divorce Club (24 page)

"You mean,
our house
, babe. You never
bought out my share, so technically it's my house too," Greg
says.

I sit up, wishing I could run over there and
smack him over his head. "That's not true. I took out a loan and
gave you half of the money."

"Yes, but did you put it in writing?" He
winks from the door before he closes it behind him.

"No. Come back," I yell even though no one
hears me. Too bad all that security stuff won't raise alarm and
wake up the entire street because I never bothered to learn how to
switch it on when I'm outside the house.

I sink into my pillow, contemplating what I
might've done to deserve this. First, Jamie shows me that in spite
of his words I'm no more than a cheap booty call he thinks he can
bribe so the missus doesn't find out. And then my cheating ex
sneaks back into my life.

My self-pity's interrupted when the nurse
pops in to bring me lunch and brief me in on my coming tests. I'd
rather get a nap from all the drama and headache, but she promises
we'll stop by Sam's room if I play along. I fight back the nausea
as I heave myself out of bed and into the wheelchair, and prepare
for a long afternoon of probing hands and whirring machines.

The corridors are alive with the sick and
their visitors. No one pays us any attention as the nurse wheels me
from one examination area to the next. By the time we finally reach
Sam's room it feels as though hours have passed.

She's lying on her back, eyes glued to the
blaring TV, and only notices my presence when the nurse closes the
door behind her. The surprised expression on Sam's face turns into
a smile.

"Mum, they said I couldn't see you yet." She
sounds like a child, her voice choking with emotion.

I veer myself forward until the wheelchair
thumps against the iron bed and grab her arm, drawing deep breaths
as I take in the bruises on her face and the white cast reaching
from her foot all the way to her thigh. There's the clumsy sketch
of a little teddy bear. The name below reads
Jamie
, in fancy
cursive, next to,
Get well, soon!
I don't know what to think
of the gesture.

"I'm here now, sweetie." My hand starts
rubbing her back.

She leans forward and wraps her arms around
my neck. "When we crashed Jamie tried to wake you up, but you
wouldn't move. I thought you were dead."

"I would never leave you." I press a soft
kiss on her cheek, forgetting everything else. My daughter's alive
and that's all that matters.

***

The next day, my test results come in. Apart
from a mild concussion there's nothing wrong with me. Doctor Morris
decides to keep me here for another night just in case, but the
bed's needed. If it weren't for my headache I'd be sent home
straight away.

Even though Mel assures me she's cancelled
the club meeting, I call the ladies nonetheless, skipping Jamie
because he should be the one to make the first step. He
doesn't.

On Tuesday morning, the nurse helps Sam and
me to pack our things. I expect Greg to pick us up as promised, but
instead Mel jumps in. Sam's jaw sets, the disappointment's clearly
visible in the way her shoulders drop. The anger flaring up inside
me makes my skin crawl. Allowing him back into our lives isn't
going to happen, not least because I have the nagging feeling that
if he can't even pick up his injured child from the hospital
there's no chance he's changed his cheating ways.

Mel helps us inside the house, then leaves
for work. Greg's not around, but then again, why am I even
surprised? I prepare tea and cookies while Sam settles on the sofa.
With her leg still in plaster she won't be able to climb up the
stairs. Until it's removed she'll have to make do with the privacy
of the living room and a sofa, albeit one with lots of cushions, as
her bed. Sam doesn't complain for a change. It must have something
to do with having the TV set all to herself and no parents to
supervise how long she's keeping it switched on.

As I place the plate on her lap she smiles up
at me. I kiss her cheek and excuse myself, eager to get to the
solitude of my bedroom for a moment. I still haven't heard from
Jamie. My stalker hasn't bothered me since Saturday. Not for the
first time I'm thinking Jamie might be involved. The fact that both
seem to keep their distance at the same time makes me wonder what's
going on.

Greg arrives home shortly before dinner. I'm
in the kitchen, heating up a ready meal lasagna when he comes in
and plops down on a chair, huffing. If I didn't know better I'd
actually think he's tired after a long day in his full-time job,
but he hasn't had one of those for more than six months.

I slam two plates on the table without
looking at him.

"Don't be this way. I'm staying here for a
while so you'll need to get used to it." He kisses me on the cheek,
then reaches for the plate and slides it over. "You won't even know
I'm here."

I slap his hand away. "The plates are for Sam
and me."

"No dinner? You're kidding. Prison inmates
get treated better than this."

I narrow my gaze. "Do you think I'd come home
from the hospital all swollen and bruised up and cook your sorry
butt dinner?" He nods, grinning. I can't believe it. "Seriously?
You should be cooking for me."

"I don't know how to cook. You always did
it."

"What? You're not microwave-compatible?"

Greg shrugs. "What's a bit of cooking to you?
I know you're a little banged up, but how hard can it be for a
woman to throw a frozen dinner in the oven?"

"That's the point I'm screaming to you."

"You're the woman," Greg says. "You didn't
mind all that cooking when we got married. I need to read the book,
How To Fight Like A Wife
."

I turn, furious. "I'm not your wife. Let's
get one thing straight here, you're sleeping on my sofa and
spending time with Sam. That doesn't make me your maid, your
waitress, or even your cook. I'm not a friend with benefits."

He winks, obviously not taking me seriously.
"Are we talking about housekeeping and cooking benefits?"

"I'm a friend with absolutely
no
benefits. As a matter of fact, I'm not even your friend," I say.
"I'll tolerate you the way I tolerated your stinky feet in our bed
when we were married."

He grabs my middle and tries to drag me on
his lap. "In our bed, stinky feet was the last thing on your
mind."

"You think you deserve dinner?" I pull back,
eager to put some distance between us. "You couldn't even be
bothered to pick up your own daughter from the hospital."

"I forgot how sexy you look when you're
angry," Greg whispers.

"Remember what I did to those chocolates in
the hospital? I'm getting ready to do the same thing to this
lasagna with one major difference: exchange the wall for your
face."

"Ouch." He grins. "You're shooting me drama
queen vibes, but you still look adorable when you pout."

He doesn't get it. Whatever I say, he still
believes I'm interested in his old butt. I scoff. "That cheap line
should score you a plate of food? You and Cat Lady are best friends
now. Go over and see if she'll cook you something. Maybe you can
catch up on some more gossip since she loves to spy on me."

"Sounds like a good idea. At least I'll get a
home cooked meal."

"You're unbelievable." I shake my head,
wondering how I could stay married to him for fifteen years. "Do I
need to remind you I just got home from the hospital?"

"Don't pull that number on me, Sarah. Sam
told me you cook like this all the time. Do you really think our
daughter is getting the nutrition she needs from frozen meals? What
happened to you? You used to make homemade meals with salad and
fresh vegetables. The dining room used to look like Martha Stuart
herself had set the flowers, candles and china. Now, look at the
state of this kitchen." He points around him. "The dishes and
laundry are piled to the ceiling, for goodness sake."

"It's called having a job. You dropped a bomb
on my life and totally deserted Sam and me. No contact. No money. I
do the best I can to make ends meet. I work for a living. You see,
single mothers need to do that." I toss the cutlery on the
table.

Greg laughs. "What you do is not even a job.
I could do that in my sleep. How can you even blame me for being
single considering you chose to kick me out the door? You brought
this on yourself."

Seriously, I've no idea why I didn't ask Mel
to change the locks while I was still at the hospital. I can't
imagine being in the same house with this man for a few hours, let
alone days. "You're cold and mean. How much lower can you
stoop?"

"That's an easy one," Greg says. "Have you
hit the booze yet?"

"Taking off the boxing gloves? Let's see." I
tap a finger against my lips. "Not yet, but I might just head to
the liquor store to forget the sad memory of you ever entering my
life."

Greg's eyes glisten with something. It's
probably conniving manipulation because it sure can't be love.
"Listen, I don't know how many more times I have to tell you I'm
sorry. Just try to keep this house in better shape." His voice is
so gentle, I know he's just hungry and wants to make me give him
some of the lasagna after all.

I shrug, smiling. "Sure, and while we're at
it, why don't you put your toothbrush back in the toothbrush
holder? You just left it sopping wet on the edge of the sink with a
gob of toothpaste next to it."

His gaze narrows. "You slurp your
cereal."

I shoot him a glare. "You leave the toilet
seat up. Oh, and flushing every now and then would be a nice touch.
We don't want to see how bad tacos mess you up."

"I shivered for years because you wouldn't
turn up the thermostat."

"We couldn't afford to pay the heat
bill."

"This seems like good, old times. I remember
that argument quite well. No more fighting unless you want sweaty
make-up sex." Grinning, he pulls me close, covering my neck in
sloppy kisses.

I jerk back, disgusted. "How dare you? When
hell freezes over."

He gazes into my eyes. "Nobody will love you
the way I do."

Now, that must be the most overused line
ever, invented to crush anyone's confidence and hopes for a better
future. "I'm not buying what you're selling. You knocked up another
chic. Remember?"

"Low blow. If you didn't push me away, I
would've been way more of a responsible adult than you."

I roll my eyes. "Says the man who spent our
life savings on his tramp. You come in here for a whole five
minutes and now you think you can mark your territory and call all
the shots? Speaking of responsibility, why didn't you pick us up
from the hospital, Greg? In case you forgot, our daughter has a
giant
cast on her foot. So what happened? Did your car get
repossessed?"

Surprise crosses his face. "Didn't Mel turn
up?"

"She did, but she's not her father, is she?"
I rub a hand over my face where the bruises tingle. "I don't want
you to stay here. It's not good for Sam."

"You're wrong about that part." He gets up
and grabs my arm, forcing me to face him. The golden flecks in his
hazel eyes don't melt my heart any more. I feel sad and
melancholic, but that's about all there's left between us.

"You should've seen Sam's face at the
hospital," Greg says. "She lit up when I told her I wanted you
back, that I wanted us to be a family again. All we need is some
time to heal."

For a moment, I'm flabbergasted, staring at
him because my mind's numb. "Why would you tell her that?"

Greg shrugs. "It's true, and I know deep down
you feel the same way. You're just angry. I left because it was
your idea to separate and break up our family."

I snort. "Yeah, you bet it was. Please excuse
me for not staying with a liar and a cheater. I'm going to buy you
a dozen red roses, a gold necklace and some chocolates."

He tries to pull me close again. "I knew you
weren't over me."

I push him away. "Don't jump to conclusions.
I'll buy them, and you take them to your little precious sweetie
and apologize. Maybe she'll take you back. Besides, she looks like
a model. She'll make excellent arm candy. You can still keep in
contact with Sam. "

"But I don't want a hot model. I want you,"
Greg whispers.

If she's the attractive one, what does that
make me? I smile. "Aw, that's sweet of you. I'm almost tempted to
believe it, but you know the saying 'once a cheater, always a
cheater'."

"That's not the point. You feel betrayed, I
understand that, but you shouldn't take it out on me by destroying
our daughter's happiness." He squeezes my arm as though to comfort
me. More likely it's just another attempt at manipulation. If there
was an award for the best cheater and liar, Greg would be serious
competition for any participant.

"I'm trying to understand where you're coming
from, but my head won't go that far up my butt. You have until
tomorrow to find a place. If you don't I'll toss your stuff on the
street and change the locks."

He glares at me when thumps echo in the hall.
Sam appears in the doorway, a frown's perched between her brows.
"Are you fighting again?"

"No, sweetie." Smiling, I dart over and help
her to her chair. She peers from me to Greg, mistrust written on
her face. I'd love to strangle him for putting her through this
whole mess. He might still have a right to half of the house, but
I'd rather deal with him in court, represented by a lawyer, than in
my home.

The cheese topping's starting to turn into
brown goo. I slip on my mitten and pull the dish out of the oven,
fuming that Greg doesn't seem to get the message and just disappear
into thin air. I place a lasagna plate in front of Sam and nudge
Greg in the back.