It doesn’t.”
Another contraction began.
This one stole every argument from my mouth.
I gripped the table until my knuckles whitened.
Adrian moved before I could protest.
One arm came around my back, steady but careful.
“Breathe.”
“I know how to breathe.”
“Then do it.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Only Adrian could turn a contraction into an order.
When the pain finally eased, I opened my eyes and found him watching me with naked worry.
It disappeared the instant he realized I’d noticed.
He reached for the phone again.
This time I didn’t stop him.
Within minutes, the divorce meeting had become something else entirely.
Mr.
Henderson returned after Adrian called him back.
One glance at my face was enough to erase whatever legal question he had intended to ask.
“The papers can wait,” Adrian said.
Henderson nodded immediately.
I looked at the signature line.
“No.
They can’t.”
Adrian turned toward me.
I pushed the folder farther away.
“I came here to finish this.”
“You came here in labor.”
“I came here to sign.”
“And now you’re going to a hospital.”
His tone would have frightened almost anyone else in New York.
Eight months ago, it probably would have silenced me too.
But I had spent those months working twelve-hour shifts with swollen feet, carrying grocery bags up three flights of stairs, sleeping alone through nights when every noise outside my door made me wonder whether Adrian had found me.
Fear had changed shape inside me.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“But after this is handled.”
Adrian looked down at the papers.
Then he did something that shocked both lawyers.
He took the folder, closed it, and placed it under his palm.
“No.”
Henderson cleared his throat.
“Mr.
Whitmore, legally—”
“Not now.”
I stared at Adrian.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“No,” he said quietly.
“But I get to decide whether I stand here pretending this is an ordinary divorce after learning my wife has been carrying my daughter alone for eight months.”
My throat tightened.
“Don’t call me your wife like nothing happened.”
His eyes held mine.
“I know something happened.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Then tell me.”
I glanced at Henderson and the second attorney.
Adrian understood.
