Once His Daddy, Now Just Mr. Hawthorne

The day my seven-year-old son stopped calling his father "Dad" and started calling him "Mr. Hawthorne," my husband still had no idea he'd already lost his family.

For years, I'd stood by Rafe Hawthorne, the CEO I'd sacrificed my career and dreams for.

I thought our marriage meant something. I thought our son meant everything to him.

Then his first love, Marigold, came back with a little boy in tow.

Suddenly, Rafe was always at her side. He missed our son's school events, repeatedly broke his promises, and even handed Jasper's one-of-a-kind birthday gift to her son.

Every time I asked him to put his own family first, he accused me of being unreasonable.

So I stopped asking.

I signed the divorce papers, packed our bags, and took Jasper to Coral Bay. For the first time in years, we could live without waiting for Rafe to come home.

But when the truth about Marigold finally came out, Rafe realized how thoroughly she'd manipulated him.

He came chasing after us, begged me to give him another chance, and promised he'd never put anyone ahead of his family again.

Only, he'd forgotten one thing.

I'd spent years waiting for him to choose us. Now, even his own son called him Mr. Hawthorne.

The first time Jasper called his father "Mr. Hawthorne" without being prompted, Rafe and I both went still.

For the past twenty-eight days, I'd asked Jasper to use that name whenever Rafe chose Marigold over us.

It was my way of reminding myself that the man I had married was no longer someone I could count on.

I thought Jasper was only repeating what I'd told him.

He was seven. He used to think his father could do anything.

Whenever I reminded him to say "Mr. Hawthorne," he'd pause, then force the words out in a voice so quiet I could barely hear him.

Today, he didn't hesitate.

"Go ahead, Mr. Hawthorne," he said, taking my hand. "You have somewhere else to be."

Then he turned to me.

"Come on, Mom."

He led me toward the photography studio before either of us could say a word.

The family portrait had been Rafe's idea. He'd missed Jasper's birthday, and this was supposed to make up for it.

Jasper had talked about the photo for two weeks. He'd even picked out the shirt he wanted to wear.

I followed him with a tight ache in my chest.

This hadn't started with the photo. It had started with a restaurant receipt.

A few weeks earlier, Rafe had come home with a receipt still tucked inside his jacket.

It was from a high-end restaurant downtown, the kind of place couples booked for anniversaries and special occasions.

The bill was for two.

I'd recognized the name immediately.

For our last wedding anniversary, I'd asked Rafe to take me there.

I wanted one evening together, just the two of us, somewhere that reminded us of when we'd first fallen in love.

He'd barely looked up from his phone.

"Seraphina, I have a company to run. I don't have time to plan some romantic dinner."

Three days later, he took Marigold.

I saw the photos on her Instagram.

She and Rafe were seated by the window, champagne glasses raised, the city lights behind them.

Her caption read: [Some people know how to make a woman feel special.]

Marigold was Rafe's first love. They'd been together when they were young, before his family made it clear she wasn't the woman they wanted for him.

They'd gone their separate ways, and he'd eventually married me.

Then she came back with a little boy and a sad story about how hard life had been.

Rafe seemed to believe he owed her for every year they'd spent apart.

That night, I confronted him. It became the worst argument we'd ever had.

I told him I wanted a divorce.

He stared at me as if I'd said something ridiculous.

"You're really going to break up our family over a dinner?"

"It's not about dinner. It's about every time you leave Jasper and me because Marigold calls."

"She's on her own with a child. What do you expect me to do? Turn my back on someone I once loved?"

"You don't have to turn your back on her. You just have to stop turning your back on your wife and son."

Rafe called me selfish. He said I was making him choose between helping a woman in need and keeping his family happy.

Then he brought Jasper into it.

"How can you do this to your own son? Do you want him growing up without his father?"

Jasper had been standing near the stairs.

His face had gone pale, and he looked as if he was afraid we might both disappear.

I swallowed the rest of what I wanted to say.

I knew how much Jasper loved his father. If I took him away in the middle of all this, he'd spend the rest of his childhood wondering why his family had fallen apart.

But I also knew I couldn't keep asking him to accept being second place.

So I made another plan.

A month ago, I put a stack of school enrollment forms in front of Rafe and asked him to sign where I'd marked. The divorce agreement was among them.

He signed without reading it, too busy taking a call from Marigold.

I'd taken the papers to my lawyer, Merritt Thorne.

He read the agreement, then looked at me for a long moment.

"Once the thirty-day cooling-off period ends, the court can issue the final divorce judgment," he explained. "Until then, either of you can reconsider. If you decide to withdraw the application, bring the documents back to me. I won't notify Rafe."

I told him I wouldn't change my mind.

For the next thirty days, I did everything I could to help Jasper accept that our family was going to look different.

Today was day twenty-eight.

And my son had finally called his father "Mr. Hawthorne" all by himself.

His hand trembled in mine. He wasn't smiling. There was no satisfaction in his face, only the kind of sadness a child shouldn't have to carry.

We'd barely made it a few steps when Rafe seemed to come back to himself.

"Seraphina, wait."

He started after us. I thought he might finally ask why Jasper had spoken to him that way.

Then his phone rang.

Marigold's voice came through the speaker, thin and tearful.

"Rafe, where are you? Kai won't stop crying. I can't get him to calm down."

Rafe stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. He keeps asking for you. I can't handle this by myself."

Rafe glanced at us, then answered, "All right. I'm coming."

A moment later, my phone buzzed.

[We'll talk later.]

That was all.

He turned and hurried away without another word.

I watched his car pull out of the parking lot. The sound of the engine faded, and Jasper stopped walking.

He pressed his face against my side. A few seconds later, I felt the warmth of his tears through my shirt.

"Mom?"

I bent down. "Yes, sweetheart?"

He hesitated before asking the question I'd been dreading.

"Can we just not have a dad anymore?"