Then someone else joined in, “That wife of his though... I’d keep her quiet and sweet like that.”
“Please. Dominic’s hopeless. Loriana says her feet hurt and he’s already on his knees.”
I didn’t even realize I was crying until my vision started swimming.
Then, his voice. “Who’s got my phone?” Calm. Cold.
“Uh, no one. It just—must’ve answered by accident.”
I could hear footsteps. Then silence.
When he spoke again, his tone changed completely. Sweet. Gentle. Like he was playing husband again.
“Baby? You still up? I’ve got a late meeting tonight. Go rest. I’ll come home and take care of you and the baby, alright?”
My throat hurts. “Dominic, I called to say I want—”
Then I heard her. A woman. Soft voice, close to the phone. “Dom, my feet hurt!”
He went quiet for a moment. Then quickly said, “Rosie, be good. Go to sleep. I’ll be home soon.”
And the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, then I started laughing. Not because it was funny. But because there was nothing else left in me.
When I stopped, my cheeks were dry, and I was looking at two things on the table…my divorce papers, and the small box they gave me at the hospital. The one with what was left of my baby.