"Stop, stop, he's coming out."
The door opened, and Troy scanned the room, his gaze finally resting on me.
"Honey, come on in."
As I got up, the people behind murmured, "It's over, we're doomed."
Once the door closed.
Troy was over the moon about a deal my dad had introduced.
Hearing I was there to discuss a divorce only added to his joy, his fists clenched in barely concealed excitement.
Leaving, the salespeople looked at me dejectedly.
I smiled slightly and shook my head gently at them.
They smiled back, understanding the gesture.
After all, they weren't wrong. Troy really was a fool.
In my past life, I loved him for his good temper and the way his smile lit up like sunshine.
So I didn't mind that he wasn't well-off.
But as time went on, I realized that his easygoing nature didn't mean he was easy to communicate with.
Sometimes, when we disagreed, he'd shut down, his indifference more painful than any harsh words could be.
And you could never expect him to empathize with you.
The day Helen sued me, he was out dining with clients.
When our daughter was pushed in front of a truck, the police took Helen away.
I thought, as a father, he'd at least offer some words of comfort.