was as if everything they’d done last night had been swept away, dropping them back into the same angry arguments from their past.
‘I’m being ridiculous?’ His tone was dangerously soft. ‘Funny you should say that, because I seem to remember a whole lot of ridiculousness that went on during our marriage. That journal you kept being one of them.’
The words slapped at Annabelle, leaving her speechless for several seconds. He considered their attempts to have a baby ‘ridiculousness’?
The pain in her gut and the throbbing in her chest were duelling with each other, seeking the nearest available exit: her eyes. But she couldn’t let the gathering tears stop her from trying one last time.
‘Max, I wasn’t serious about what I said in the bathroom.’
It was as if he hadn’t heard her at all. ‘We should have used some kind of protection. I meant what I said three years ago. I don’t want children.’
His words stopped her all over again.
‘Ever?’
‘Ever. I thought I made that perfectly clear.’
He had. But that had been three years ago. A lot had changed since then. Maybe more than she’d thought. He’d never once mentioned still loving her. Not last night. Not this morning. The closest he’d come was the word ‘spark’.
Oh, God, how could she have been so stupid? And just to prove that she was, the words kept pouring out.
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’
‘No? I’m saying this was a mistake, Annabelle.’ He glanced one last time at the open bag on the bed. ‘When we get back to Cheltenham, I’m going to find those divorce papers and sign them.’ There was a long pause, and she suddenly knew the hammer was going to fall and crush her beneath its blow. ‘And if you haven’t already, I’m going to ask that you sign them too.’
‘Please don’t say that, Max. Let’s talk about it.’
‘There is nothing to talk about. You wanted a divorce? Well, guess what, honey, so do I.’
THE TRIP BACK to Cheltenham had been made in total silence. She could have tried to plead her case, but she doubted that Max would have heard anything she had to say.
Just as in their marriage, he had shut down emotionally. His face and the tight way he’d gripped the wheel had seemed to confirm that, so Annabelle had stared out of the window at the passing countryside, doing her best not to burst into tears.
He wasn’t any more willing to fight for her—for them—than he had been three years ago. And she was done trying.
She loved him, but she was not going to kneel at his feet and beg him not to leave.
After working her afternoon shift—during which she hadn’t seen Max a single time, not even to check on Hope—she’d spent a long sleepless night, first in her bed, and when that hadn’t worked she’d lain on the sofa.
This morning, she was exhausted, but resigned. If he wanted to sign the papers, she was going to let him. She unpacked her bag, staring at herself in the mirror for a long time.
Was he right? Had some subconscious part hoped she might become pregnant because of what they’d done? Maybe. And if she was honest with herself, there was probably some long-lost side of her that would always harbour a tiny sliver of hope. How could she just extinguish it?
She couldn’t. And evidently Max would not be able to love the side of her that wanted children.
Okay. She would just deal with it, as she had the last time.
She went to the shelf and picked up the manila envelope, blowing three years’ worth of dust off it. Sitting at her desk, she withdrew the papers inside, her hand shaking as she laid them out flat, realising she’d never really looked at what her solicitor had sent over. Max wasn’t the only one who had put off walking this through to the end.
Petition for dissolution of the
marriage between
Maxwell Wilson Ainsley
and
Annabelle Brookes Ainsley
She was listed as the petitioner and he was the respondent. In other words, she was asking for the divorce and it was up to Max to respond.
Which he had, yesterday.
The night before last she’d felt such hope. And now here she was, back where she’d started three years ago.
Only worse. Because back then, when he’d issued his ultimatum about discontinuing the IVF attempts, she hadn’t completely believed him. Until she’d caught him looking at that ovulation journal. She’d seen his face and had known it was over.
But that was all in the past. At least she’d thought so until yesterday. She’d had no idea he harboured such terrible resentment of their time together.
After they’d made love, Annabelle could have sworn that those old hurts had been healed. Obviously she’d been wrong.
Annabelle stared at the document.
She was the petitioner.
The word swirled through her mind again and again. Just because someone asked for something didn’t mean the other person had to give it to them, did it? No, but Max seemed more than willing to let her have what she wanted. Only she wasn’t sure she wanted it any more.
Why? Because he’d hurt her pride? No. That hurt went far deeper than that.
What if she, the petitioner, withdrew her request? Was that even possible? She could try to stop the process and, if Max insisted, let it turn into a long drawn-out battle in the courts. She could try to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. But that wasn’t what Annabelle wanted. She didn’t want to hurt him. Or to fight with him.
She didn’t want to fight at all.
But that didn’t mean that wasn’t what should happen.
Hadn’t her parents always taught her to fight for what she believed in? And wasn’t that what she’d expected of Max all those years ago?
Yes.
Even now, despite his angry words, she believed they had a chance if they let go of the past. But did Max believe the same thing? After yesterday, she wasn’t sure.
Why had he got so angry after she’d joked about her getting pregnant?
Because he thought she still wanted children and he didn’t?
That was what he’d implied when he’d mentioned hitting the ‘magic’ window: If so, you’ve got the wrong man.
She didn’t know
