“Divorce papers? What the hell, Eve?”
She wipes her hand across her cheek. “It’s time, Rem, and you know it. I’m tired of waiting for you to get better, to snap out of it. We’re both hurting, but you—I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”
Her words are like fists, each one slamming into me. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” Her jaw tightens as she waves her hand at me. “The fact you won’t admit you have a problem.” She shakes her head. “I can smell the whiskey on your breath, Rem.”
“That was hours ago.” I’m not sure why, but I’m so desperate to find the Eve I know inside all that anger that I say, “I think I finished my novel. And it’s good—really good.”
She wears a strange expression, then her face crumbles and she presses her hand to her mouth, turning away.
“What?”
Silas moves a few inches closer to Eve. “Do you work at being the jerk of the century, Rembrandt? Or does is just come naturally? Please. Stop dreaming and start living in the world you created.”
He puts a protective arm around Eve, my Eve.
I stand there, feet nailed to the cold entry way floor, bare chested and wet, the world spinning off its axis.
Especially when Eve looks up at me. “Just sign the papers, Rem, and let me go. Let Ashley go. It’s over.”
Ashley. The name rushes through me like wildfire. “Let her go? What are you talking about?”
I’m about ready to turn and sprint up the stairs to Ashley’s bedroom when Eve gives me such a horrid, broken look I freeze. She draws in a breath and for a second, looks like she might slap me, venom in her eyes.
“I really hate you, Rembrandt Stone.”
My jaw tightens, my throat raw. “Hate me all you want, but you’re not taking my daughter away from me—”
“You’re sick.”
“Where is she, Eve?” My voice is louder than I want it to be, but fear is sneaking up from my gut and I can’t help it.
“She’s dead, Rem. She’s dead, and you can’t bring her back. So wake up!”
Her words sear through me.
No. No— “What are you talking about?”
She shakes her head, turns away.
“Rembrandt,” Silas says, and his voice is oddly soft, as if I might be a hostage taker and he the friendly negotiator. “Ashley’s murder was two years ago now. It’s time to let go. I’m sorry.”
My mouth opens, but nothing emerges. The urge to hurt him is gone, leaving me with nothing at all.
“Sign the papers,” Eve says softly, tears cutting down her face. Behind her grief, I see the Eve I know, the Eve who has gone missing, the Eve I left behind last night. Strong, beautiful Eve who loves me, believes in me. Who sees exactly what this impossible news has done to me.
I stand there, mute, as Silas turns her, his arm curling around her shoulders, and walks her down our front steps. Helps her into the car. Drives her away from our home. Our family. Our life.
Taking the answers with her.
I back away from the door, glance at the envelope, then drop it onto the floor.
I take the stairs two at time.
I stop at Ashley’s door, my hand on the knob, and close my eyes. Please, no.
My breath shudders as I swing the door in.