I dug my nails into my palms until the pain pushed back the wave of nausea. I had no doubt that one more second and I'd vomit all over them and that revolting pink waterbed.
Fortunately, Alice's frantic urging meant Dustin didn't so much as glance at the documents.
His pen slashed across every signature line, fast and careless, like he was swatting away a fly. Then he lifted his head and fixed me with a look that said get out. Now.
I didn't linger. I grabbed the papers, turned on my heel, and slammed the door behind me.
The bang echoed down the hallway like a declaration—three years of marriage, shattered beyond repair.
I made it to the top of the stairs before my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, curled against the wall, and crumpled into myself. A bitter laugh escaped, tangled with tears I couldn't stop and blood that hadn't yet dried.
A long time passed before I wiped the mess of blood and tears from my face and forced myself upright.
"Cecily."
I turned. Dustin had followed me out. He'd thrown on loungewear, but it did nothing to hide the angry red marks across his chest—hickeys and scratch lines, vivid as accusations.