All Chapters of Divorce Suits Me Better: Chapter 111 - Chapter 118

(Sabrina’s POV)I was on the couch with a book I was trying to read when I heard the outer door.Adrian had gone to my Grandma’s—mine, the other one—for the night to sit with her, and Charlie was upstairs on a work call. Eric had gone home hours ago.The house had been quiet for so long I had almost begun to enjoy it. The photograph sat on the coffee table beside a mug I hadn’t touched.I had been looking at her more than I’d been looking at the book.I heard a knock on the door, heavy and short.Nate.I knew it was Nate before I opened the door, hating that I knew.My hand was on the wood before my brain had caught up. He was under the porch light in the coat he’d worn in the hospital, his jaw rough with a day of stubble, and there was a wildness in his face I hadn’t seen in months. Not since the gate.“I need five minutes,” he said.“Nate, it’s ten o’clock at night.”“Five minutes.”I stepped back. He came in. He didn’t take his coat off or sit down. He stood in the front hall like

(Sabrina’s POV)I woke up too warm and wrong.The bed was not the bed. The pillow was too soft, and the sheets were too smooth, and the smell of the room was wrong, faintly citrus, and there was no traffic under the window, no anything under the window.My mouth was thick. My hand was cold and heavy.I sat up too fast and everything swung. I put both hands flat on the mattress and waited until it stopped.The room was beautiful.That was the first thing wrong with it. It was beautiful, and it was not my hotel room, and I had gone to sleep in my hotel room.Now I was here, in this room with pale gray walls and a chest at the foot of the bed and a vase of pale roses on the dresser, and I did not know how I had gotten here.I got out of bed.My legs did not want to hold me. I put a hand on the bedpost and stood there a full minute before I could cross the room. My phone was on the nightstand. I picked it up. The battery was full. There was no signal at all.I checked the settings. Airpla

(Nate’s POV)I was dressed before the call ended. Shoes by the door, keys on the counter, wallet in my back pocket.I had been sleeping in the guest room of a rented apartment near the Cortlandt site, and the room was so bare that getting out of it took eleven seconds.I called Eric from the car.He didn’t pick up. I called again. Again. On the fourth try, he answered with the clipped irritation of a man pulled out of something important.“Cooper, it’s two in the morning—”“Where is she?”“Where is who?”“Sabrina. Where is Sabrina right now?”“She’s with Desmond. In Nevada. Adrian cleared the trip. She went voluntarily, Nate, we’ve been through—”“She’s locked in a house in the desert,” I said. “Alexis just told me.”Eric went quiet.“And you’re believing Alexis now?” he said slowly.“I’m believing the woman who has no reason to help me and every reason to hurt me, yes. She told me because she thinks it’ll destroy me. She’s wrong. Give me the address.”“Nate, I need you to slow down—”

(Sabrina’s POV)Three weeks later, Nate was on Grandma Cooper’s couch with his socked feet up on the arm of it and the Sunday crossword folded on his chest and his hand on my belly.Grandma Cooper was in the wing chair opposite. She had a cup of tea on the little table beside her and a shawl over her knees and a look on her face that I could not have described without embarrassing her.She had worn that look every time she walked into the same room as us since we brought her back from Crestwood two weeks ago.She had been discharged over Adrian’s objection, on the grounds that she had things to do that could not be done from a hospital bed.Those things had turned out to be: watching Nate refuse to lie down when he was told to, watching me refuse to eat when I was told to, and informing us both on the hour that our behavior was going to give her a stroke and it would be on both of us.She was very well. She was very well and she was in her house and she was drinking tea from her mothe