Chapter 3: Divorce

Willow’s POV

Before I could react, the man’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me back. I barely had time to register what was happening before my back hit his chest.

I blinked slowly, disoriented, and realized I was still in his embrace.

My head tilted up, and right in front of me, a car had stopped inches away. The driver leaned halfway out the window. “Oh my God, sorry!”

He tightened his hold just slightly, then shot a sharp look at the driver. “Watch where you’re going next time!”

Then he turned his attention back to me, his eyes softening. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, still catching my breath. “I—I’m fine. Thanks… for saving me.”

I glanced at my watch. Time was running late. “I should get going,” I said, giving him a quick nod. “Thanks again.”

He nodded slightly and walked away, and I couldn’t help but steal one last look at his back as I turned.

So gentlemanly. Those compliments… I probably wouldn’t hear them again. I shrugged it off and went back into the restaurant.

“What took you so long?” Logan snapped at me. Then he glanced down at the flowers. When Logan saw the massive bouquet of white roses in my hand, his eyes widened.

“Stupid florist,” he scoffed. “They screwed up the order,” he replied sharply. I was just about to tell him that I’d changed the order, and thanked him for the beautiful bouquet of birthday flowers, when he snatched them from my hands.

I watched, dumbfounded, as he handed them to Beatrice.

“Welcome back,” he said, smiling sweetly at her. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. Although these aren’t what I ordered. I ordered you daisies.”

It dawned on me then that the flowers had never been for me. Logan had ordered the bouquet for Beatrice, as a welcome home gift.

Which was why they were daisies – her favorite flower.

I was speechless. The cake, the spicy food, the plan to divorce me and marry Beatrice, Zoe, and now the flowers?

I’d never felt so invisible in my entire life.

“Thank you, they’re lovely,” Beatrice gushed, holding the flowers up to her chin. She smiled demurely at Logan.

“You know what,” I said. My voice sounded tinny, like it wasn’t mine. My hands were trembling. All eyes turned to me. “I've given it some thought, and I agree to the divorce.”

I had a falsely selfless expression on my face.

If Logan wanted a divorce, then a divorce he would have.

Logan was shocked at first, but then his face broke out into a smile.

“I’ll make it up to, I promise,” Logan said to me. Then, without missing a beat, he reached into his briefcase.

Divorce papers.

He’d already had divorce papers drawn up?

He slid them across the table to me.

I felt like I was having an out of body experience. It all happened so quickly. I flipped through the papers and then signed them.

I stared down at my own fresh signature.

Just like that, we were divorced.

Logan turned his attention back to Beatrice. They began talking animatedly about the new wine label his company was launching.

“It’s a merlot, shiraz blend. It’s exquisite. Taste tests from our research sample groups were very positive,” he told Beatrice.

“But you already have a popular red blend,” I chipped in. “Won’t this new label compete with that?”

Logan chuckled and shot me a condescending look. He was basically patting me on the head like a child with that look.

‘That’s cute. But it’s time for the grown-ups to talk. Now run along and play, dear.’

That’s what his look said.

So I shut my mouth and didn’t intervene even further.

They continued to talk. Beatrice told him all about her new perfume launch. They shoveled the spicy jerk chicken into their mouths. I sat, my hands folded on my lap.

I leaned in close to Leo.

“How about we get out of here?” I whispered playfully. “Go and get some ice-cream? Two scoops?”

I figured Leo would jump at the chance to grab some ice cream, but to my surprise, he shook his head.

“You’re so embarrassing, Mom,” he quipped at me, his eyes locked on his phone screen. “I’ll just order ice cream here.”

Hurt and cast out, I stood up and slipped out of the room unnoticed. Their laughter followed me all the way out of the restaurant.

Outside, I crouched on the stone steps, dejected.

The night wind blew fiercely, tangling my hair. Through the massive floor to ceiling windows, I could see Beatrice, Logan, Zoe, and Leo all chatting away, serving themselves my birthday cake.

They looked like a big, happy, perfect family.

I held my phone in my hand, holding onto one more thread of hope. Logan would notice I was gone and would text me to ask where I was.

Right?

I mean, he HAD to.

But time ticked by and my phone remained silent.

A group of elegantly dressed women walked past me and entered the restaurant. I overheard them say something about a ‘girls night.’

I looked down at my own old, worn-out dress. It paled in comparison to the women’s hot and trendy designer outfits.

What happened to me? I asked myself.

I used to be one of those women. I used to have friends. I used to have ‘girls nights’.

I used to be beautiful.

But now?

Somewhere along the way, I’d let my marriage define me. I’d become a boring, cliché housewife, with a closet full of leggings and a drawer of old, crusty, expired make-up.

And I had nothing to show for it! I’d just divorced Logan so he could marry my half-sister. I’d gone along with his little plan.

Why?

I guess it was because, deep down, I didn’t want to be married to Logan anymore. I didn’t want to just be “Mrs. Anderson.” Or “Leo’s mom.”

Or the woman whose husband doled out her birthday cake before she even got to the restaurant.

The woman who picked up flowers, on her own birthday, for someone else.

But that’s exactly who I’d become.

I sighed and rested my elbows on my knees.

I realized, in that moment, that I just let my marriage define….

…I’d completely lost myself.