"However, if you expect me to start caring about a stranger ... I’m afraid I can’t do that," he said hauntingly.
Good. Very good. A stranger, huh? Is this how he sees me now?
I lowered my gaze and stepped back.
“Then let’s get a divorce. I don’t want to stay married to someone who doesn’t love me," I said calmly.
I turned away. I did not want him to see the tears that welled up in my eyes.
After all these years, this was where Jack and I had ended up.
“No!” he said in a loud voice.
His unexpected response made me whirl around. There was a disbelief on my face. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes, but just as quickly, his expression returned to its usual coldness. He shrugged casually and said, “We’ll talk about divorce when I get my memory back.”
“There’s no rush.”
My heart sank.
By the time he “got his memory back,” I might already be gone. From divorcee to widow ... what a cruel joke.
“Do whatever you want.” I turned to leave, but just as I grabbed the doorknob, something occurred to me.
“Oh, by the way, since you probably don’t want to live with a stranger, I’ll move back to the house in West City.”
I opened the door, ready to walk out.