The Light on the Seine Never Reached the Me He Remembered

Adeline's POV

I straighten up after three back-to-back all-nighters, my stomach aching so badly I can barely stand up straight. At one in the morning, I head to the twenty-four-hour diner below my studio for a bowl of soup, just to keep myself going.

Steam rises off the bowl, and when I look up, my blood goes cold.

Beckett Wexford, my husband, head of the Wexford Group and a man with a serious germ phobia, sits right there, completely out of place in this greasy late-night diner.

He patiently picks the onions out of her burger, one piece at a time, while the girl next to him laughs, bright and carefree, her profile eerily close to what mine looked like at twenty.

"Beckett, you're so bad at this. It's just an onion."

The man who's been ice cold to me for years has a look in his eyes I've never seen before, soft, doting, like she's something precious to him.

"Hold on, almost done."

Eight years of marriage, and I turned myself into some neurotic housekeeper. Turns out all that tenderness was just going somewhere else.

I pull out my phone and open the divorce agreement I drafted a while ago.

Eight years. It's time to get myself out of this.

I sit there and watch them feed each other like any ordinary couple.

The stomach pain is gone. In its place, a numbness spreads up from somewhere deep inside.

Then Beckett gets up to pay, his eyes sweep the room, and stop on me.

There's no panic in his face. Just irritation at being interrupted.

He walks over, jaw tight. "Adeline, are you following me?"

Typical. The first thing out of his mouth is always an accusation.

"I've been working late. I just came for some soup," I say evenly.

Beckett scoffs, clearly not buying it. "Since when did you start pulling shady moves like this, Adeline? Checking up on me? You think this is gonna get my attention?"

"Who's she?" I ignore the jab and ask directly.

"A friend." He tugs at his tie, annoyed. "Don't make a scene here. We'll talk at home."

"What kind of friend gets you picking onions out of her burger? What kind of friend gets you coming to a dump like this?" I ask, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

He doesn't answer, just stares at me, something complicated flickering across his face.

Something twists in my chest. Years ago, we used to do exactly this, sit shoulder to shoulder at some cramped little table in a diner like this one.

Back then he didn't care if the place was dirty or messy. He'd laugh and joke with me.

Beckett sighs and pulls out his phone, dialing a number. "Knox, get some guys over here. Adeline's losing it on Ninth Avenue."

Ten minutes later, two sports cars screech to a stop outside.

Knox shows up with a few mutual friends from their circle, all in a hurry.

They glance at me, then at the girl standing off to the side looking lost, and immediately get it.

"Addie, what are you doing?" Knox steps between me and Beckett, forcing a smile. "Beckett was just out here handling business. Don't go jumping to conclusions."

"Business, at a diner?" I look at him. "You all knew, didn't you?"

"We've always known. We just didn't want you finding out and making a thing of it. Every time Beckett went to see Winnie, we'd take turns coming by to play cards with you, keep you distracted, cover for him," another one of the friends mutters.

Knox sighs, impatient. "Addie, we're all adults here. Beckett's under a ton of pressure, so what if he wants to unwind a little? Winnie just graduated, she's sweet, he's just looking out for her. You're his actual wife. Can't you show a little grace?"

So I'm the only fool in the room.

All of them had been running cover for Beckett's grand romance behind my back, watching me humiliate myself trying to hold this marriage together like some kind of joke.

"Had enough yet, Adeline?" Beckett says coldly. "If you're done, go home. Stop embarrassing yourself out here."

I take a deep breath, and for the first time in years, I feel light.

"Beckett. Let's get a divorce."

His pupils contract for a second, then his face twists into something even more mocking. "What game are you playing now, Adeline? Throwing out the divorce card to get me to come running home?"

"I'm not playing games. I mean it. I want a divorce," I repeat.

"Get her in the car. Don't let her near Winnie. I'm taking Winnie home first." Beckett's patience runs out completely, and he barks at Knox.

Knox and the others grab my arms, one on each side, and shove me toward the car.

"Addie, quit fighting it. You really want to push Beckett this far?"

As the door slams shut, I watch through the window as Beckett hurries over to Winnie, gently calming her down, his face full of a tenderness he never once gave me.