Chapter 4

On the seventh and final day, Daniel asked me to return to the house.

The game was ending, he said. He would personally return the key, the bracelet, and my resignation papers. Then we'd settle the question of our marriage.

The door stood slightly open. Through the gap, I saw the same setup he used every year to announce that the game was over: champagne, a cake, and confetti.

Photographs of my worst moments from the last three years covered the walls. Beneath them, our friends had placed bets on how quickly the divorce papers would make me surrender.

Natalie sat on the couch in my nightgown. Daniel was beside her.

Before I entered, someone began teasing them.

“Everyone knows you want each other. Claire's not here. Take advantage of it.”

“Come on. She always calms down and comes back. You two can quit the act. I saw you leaving a hotel together on the sixteenth last month. You both had marks on your necks.

“And we're supposed to believe you're only friends?”

I stopped outside the doorway.

On the sixteenth, the pain in my stomach had been so bad I could hardly stay on my feet. I'd called Daniel three times.

He said he couldn't leave his meeting. Take something for it, he'd told me. If it got worse, I could get myself to the hospital.

There hadn't been a meeting. He'd been in a hotel with Natalie.

She looked at him from the couch. When he offered no denial, she rose, caught his tie, and went up on her toes to kiss him.

He let her.

After she drew back, he frowned as though he'd only just remembered something.

His voice lost its teasing tone.

“Claire's gone too far with this. Maybe we should stop these games after today.”

I nearly laughed. Even an affair was part of the game to him.

I drew a breath and opened the door. No one was teasing anymore, but the room hadn't quite recovered from their kiss.

The divorce settlement lay in the center of the coffee table.

Daniel looked briefly uncomfortable. Underneath that, he still seemed certain I'd give in, as I always had.

A friend laughed.

“You cried so much over those pretend divorce papers two years ago you could barely hold a pen, Claire. Keep this set dry, okay?”

Natalie spoke gently.

“Don't get upset. Daniel only needs to know you love him.”

He settled back against the couch.

“Say you're jealous. Apologize to Natalie and put your ring back on. I'll rip these up.”

I opened the document.

The division of our assets wasn't pretend. Neither were the property provisions. Our marriage details were correct, and the agreement had been prepared for actual signatures and filing, not as a party prop.

He'd instructed a lawyer to draw up a real settlement so I would believe the threat. He still hadn't considered that I might sign it.

One of his friends had a phone trained on me, ready to record my fourth breakdown.

They started counting down. I reached for the pen before they finished.

Daniel smiled already. He must have expected the same thing he'd seen two years earlier: me crying and asking if he really wanted to leave me.

I didn't argue. I didn't shed a tear. I wrote my name carefully on the signature line.

The laughter died.