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Flowers for Her, Divorce for Him

NovelShort new Completed

Billionaire CEO HotOmegaLuna

Chapters (4)

Chapter 1

In three years of marriage, my mate had never brought me flowers. Even on the night of the winter moon, when every wolf in our pack seemed to have a gift for someone, Morris Matthews came home from the pack clinic, ate the dinner I’d kept warm, and went to bed. “You married the pack physician,” my friends told me. “He’s respected. He comes home every night. You know he’d never stray. What more do you want?” For a while, I managed to believe them. Then, on my birthday, I walked past the best restaurant in town and saw Morris through the window. He was sitting across from Cassandra Summers, his first love, who’d just come back from overseas. There were flowers at her elbow and three wrapped gifts on the table. Cassandra started to untie one of the ribbons. Morris leaned forward, smiling before she’d even opened the box. In three years, I’d never once seen him look that happy to give me anything. That night, I went through the files on his laptop and found a link to a blog he’d kept under a name I didn’t recognize. There were thousands of entries. A photo of Cassandra on the night of her first shift. A whole paragraph about the way she took her coffee. In one post, he’d written down something she’d said at dinner because he was afraid he’d forget the exact words by morning. The last entry was dated the day she left the country. I’d spent three years telling myself Morris simply didn’t know how to show love. For Cassandra, he’d found a thousand ways. I closed the laptop and called Gordon James, my business partner. His latest proposal for an overseas office had been sitting in my inbox for a week. “I’ve made up my mind,” I said. “I’ll help you open up the overseas market. I’m coming with you.” …… Morris usually came home at seven. At eleven, I heard his key in the lock. An hour had passed since I called Gordon. I’d spent most of it at the kitchen table, trying to forget a photo Morris had posted of Cassandra asleep in his shirt. He stopped when he saw me. “You’re still up?” I didn’t answer. He hung his coat by the door and came over to put an arm around my waist. “Something went wrong with the data from one of our trials,” he said. “I couldn’t leave the lab.” His arm felt stiff around me. I knew my mate’s scent well enough to pick him out in a crowd. Tonight there was perfume on his collar, too. It wasn’t mine. “I’ll come home early tomorrow,” he went on. “I’ll cook. We can celebrate your birthday then, okay?” “So you remembered.” I slipped out of his arms. Last year, I’d booked a table and sent him the reservation twice. The server replaced the bread basket without asking if I was still waiting for someone. By the time Morris answered his phone, I’d been there three hours. “Why are you still waiting for me?” he’d asked. “Was there something special about today?” I’d apologized for calling him at work. I remembered that more clearly than I remembered what I’d ordered. This year, he remembered. He’d spent the evening watching Cassandra unwrap presents. For me, he’d offered to come home early tomorrow. “Regina, what’s wrong with you?” His brow drew tight. “I said I’d make it up to you. What more do you want?” For three years, I’d worked around his clinic hours and his research schedule. When he stayed late, I put his dinner away without calling. Once I went to the lab because I missed him. He met me at the door and asked me to text before I came by again. I was about to ask how long he’d been planning Cassandra’s dinner when his phone rang. He glanced down. The crease between his brows eased before he even answered. “Morris?” It was Cassandra. Her voice carried in the quiet kitchen. “I think I have a fever. I feel so weak.” He was halfway to the door before she finished. “Get dressed if you can,” he told her, pulling his coat from the hook. “I’ll take you to the hospital. I’m on my way.” He ended the call, picked up his wallet from the hall table, and checked for his keys. “Morris.” He stopped with his hand on the door. “Cassandra just got back. I’m the only person in the pack she feels comfortable calling.” He looked over his shoulder. “Don’t make this into something it isn’t, Regina.” Then he left. The lock clicked. His arm had left a trace of that perfume on my sleeve. Three months earlier, I’d woken before dawn with a pain low in my abdomen. I tried to sit up and couldn’t. By the time I got hold of Morris’s hand, he was already dressed. “Take me to the hospital,” I said. When he looked at the clock, I asked him again. I remember saying please. He pulled his hand away and checked the time. “I’m traveling with my research supervisor today. You know how important this project is.” He picked up his bag. I remember thinking he might put it down again if he saw me try to stand. I didn’t make it far enough to find out. “I’ll call my mom for you,” he said. “Just lie down and wait.” It was acute appendicitis. Morris left before anyone got me to the hospital. Tonight, all Cassandra had to say was that she felt weak.

Chapter 2

That morning, I passed out before anyone came for me. When I woke after surgery, my mother was beside the hospital bed with her coat still on. “His mother called him when they took you into surgery,” she said. “He knew you were having your appendix out, and he still got on that train.” “Mom. I’m fine.” “You’re awake, Regina. That’s all you know so far.” I remember looking down at the blanket because it was easier than looking at her. “You know how he is about his research. Once he gets his teeth into a problem, he sees it through. It’s one of the reasons I fell for him.” My mother reached over to straighten the blanket. I’d been awake less than five minutes, and I was already trying to make her think better of him. I took off the sweater that still smelled of perfume. Then I went to the fridge and pulled out the dairy-free cake I’d bought for my birthday. The woman at the bakery had asked how many forks I needed. I’d said two. I lit the candles and blew them out before midnight. Then I ate a slice standing at the counter. I was crying by the time I finished it, but I finished it anyway. I’d told Gordon I was going overseas. For once, I’d made a decision about my future without stopping to ask what Morris would think. The next morning, I opened his blog again. He’d posted at two in the morning. It was his first entry in four years. After all this time, you’re still the only one who makes my heart race. In the photo, Cassandra was asleep in a hospital bed. The blanket over her was mine. I’d left it in Morris’s car because I always got cold on the drive home. At the edge of the frame, Morris’s hand was cupped around the IV line where it ran across the blanket. I recognized his watch. He used to take it off as soon as he came home so he wouldn’t have to think about the time. He’d sat with her long enough for her to fall asleep. I closed the page and called a cab. At my request, Gordon had started the paperwork weeks ago. I’d wanted the option, even when I wasn’t ready to go. My work visa and residence permit had already been approved. All I had to do was bring my passport and pick them up. I meant to stay overseas long enough to build a life there. Before I left, I’d have a lawyer draw up the divorce agreement and check how to remove my name from our joint household record with the pack registrar. In the cab, Morris sent me a text. I’ll be abroad for a week. A lab overseas wants to compare trial results. I read it once and put my phone away. I saw them through the glass as the cab pulled up outside the visa center. Morris and Cassandra were sitting near the door, with a chair between them. Neither had a hand on the other. If I hadn’t seen how often he turned to look at her, I could have taken them for strangers waiting for their numbers to be called. I took the long way around the chairs. They didn’t notice me stop behind them. “Morris,” Cassandra said, “your lab’s so busy. You really don’t have to come to Finland with me.” “I promised I’d take you to see the northern lights,” he said. “I couldn’t afford it then. I can now.” He said it softly. I’d heard him use that voice with frightened patients at the pack clinic. I’d never heard him use it to tell me he remembered something I wanted. “And afterward?” Cassandra asked. “Afterward, I’ll come home and be a proper husband again. You don’t have to worry about that.” I put a hand on the back of an empty chair. He made it sound so simple. He’d give her a week, then come home and pick up his marriage where he’d left it. When we got married, I’d shown him a photo of the northern lights over a frozen lake in Finland. I’d even found a cabin near a stretch of forest where visiting wolves could shift without being seen. “Look,” I’d said. “We could go there for our honeymoon.” He’d gone still for a second. Then he handed me back my phone. “Finland’s too far. I can’t take that much time off.” I’d taken his arm and tried to coax him. “Just look at the cabin first.” “I said no, Regina.” He pulled his arm away. “Pick somewhere else or we can forget the honeymoon altogether.” I’d picked somewhere close enough for him to get back to the clinic if they needed him. Now he’d found a whole week. I wiped my cheeks and went to the check-in desk. If he was going to be away for a week, I could have the divorce papers drawn up and be gone by the time he got back. It was dark by the time I collected my documents. I took a cab home with the envelope flat across my lap. Morris and Cassandra were standing outside our building when I pulled up. She turned toward the street as if she meant to leave. He caught her by the arm, and she turned back so quickly she ended up against his chest. They didn’t notice me at first.

Chapter 3

Cassandra saw me first. “Regina.” She backed up so fast her heel caught on the front step. Morris steadied her, his hand still on her arm. “Morris, let go,” she whispered. “Regina’s home.” “What are you afraid of?” He turned to me. His hand was still on her sleeve. “A pipe burst in Cassandra’s apartment,” he said. “I told her she could stay with us for a couple of days.” He said it the way he might have told me he’d left a package in the hall. It had already been decided. All I had to do was make room. “Wouldn’t she be more comfortable in a hotel?” His brow furrowed. “I’ve already told her she can stay. Don’t start, Regina.” “I don’t have a problem with her staying.” I shifted the envelope with my passport and permits under my arm. “I’m busy this week, though, so you’ll have to look after your guest yourself.” He looked as if he’d already decided what to say to my next objection. I waited just long enough for him to realize there wasn’t one. “I’m going upstairs. Take your time.” Once, at dinner with a few friends from the pack, a man who’d had too much to drink asked Morris whether he’d ever really gotten over Cassandra. I waited until we got home to ask what he meant. Morris set his watch on the dresser and told me I was embarrassing myself. I followed him into the kitchen, asking questions I knew he wouldn’t answer. For the next three days, the only thing he said to me was to ask where I’d put his keys. For months, I couldn’t hear Cassandra’s name without wanting to know who’d brought her up and why. I’d ask a question, hear myself getting the tone wrong, and spend the rest of the night trying to ask it better. Every time I got upset, Morris found another reason to tell me how easy she’d been to talk to. Tonight, he could wonder what I was thinking. Upstairs, I slid the envelope into my bag. Later, the mattress dipped behind me. Morris slid an arm around my waist and drew me back against him. His thumb moved over the back of my hand in slow circles. Early in our marriage, I used to wait for that little gesture after an argument. It usually meant he’d decided we could speak again. “I know I’ve been neglecting you,” he said. “I know it’s been hard. But there’s nothing between Cassandra and me. We’re friends.” I almost laughed. If I hadn’t seen the flowers and the gifts, I might have believed him. If I hadn’t heard him promise her the northern lights in the same voice he was using now, I might even have turned over and put my arms around him. “When I get back from this trip, things will be better,” he murmured into my hair. “We’ll have a good life together. Nobody’s going to come between us again.” I couldn’t tell which of us he needed to believe that. His thumb went on tracing the same circle. I closed my eyes and waited for him to fall asleep. Gordon called the next morning. Morris’s side of the bed was empty. From the kitchen came the sound of a cupboard closing. “Did you get your permits?” Gordon asked. “Yesterday.” “Good. I can get you on a flight in five days. Does that give you enough time?” I counted forward. If Morris left when he’d said he would, he’d still be in Finland. “Five days works.” “Have you told him you want a divorce?” “Not yet. Can you find me a lawyer? I need someone to draft the agreement and handle the paperwork with the pack registrar.” “I’ll get you a name today.” I thanked him, hung up, and opened the bedroom door. Morris was wearing the apron I’d bought him our first winter together. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him tie it on. There were eggs, crisp potatoes, fruit, and a plate of pancakes on the table. He poured Cassandra a glass of milk and handed it to her before he noticed me. “Regina!” Cassandra waved me over. “Come eat. Morris made enough for everybody.” She pulled out the chair beside hers. It was the one I usually sat in. “I was overseas for so long,” she said. “His cooking was what I missed most.” Morris still had the milk carton in his hand. “Honestly, I envy you,” she went on. “Getting to eat like this every day. He must make you something different for breakfast and dinner all the time, right?” Morris went still. On my birthday, he’d promised to cook the next day. The next day had come and gone without either of us mentioning it. I smiled at Cassandra and shook my head.

Chapter 4

Morris had never made me breakfast. I looked at the milk and the butter melting over the pancakes. Morris knew I was lactose intolerant. He still poured milk into my coffee if I didn’t stop him. “Enjoy it while it’s hot,” I told Cassandra. I went to the bathroom, closed the door, and ran cold water over my hands until I could trust myself to come back out. Two days later, they left for Finland. I’d just come home from meeting the lawyer Gordon had recommended when I saw the new post on Morris’s blog. One last indulgence. Let me love you one more time. There was no photo. I read the line twice. Then I closed the page and blocked the account. The lawyer had drafted the divorce agreement, set out how we’d divide our assets, and marked the pages I’d need for the pack registrar. A yellow tab stuck out beside the place where Morris was supposed to sign. I emailed him the agreement. He didn’t reply. Over the next three days, I packed a suitcase with what I’d need right away. My assistant arranged to ship my books and work files to the overseas office. I donated the rest of what I didn’t plan to take. I kept finding things I’d bought in pairs. Two mugs from our first winter together. Two key rings from a shop near the clinic. I’d had to ask Morris three times before he took his out of the box. It still looked new when I dropped it in the trash. I tore up our photographs last. In one of them, taken not long after we met, he was looking down at the table while I laughed at something outside the frame. It reminded me of the night I told him I liked him. He’d gone red all the way to his ears and spent so long looking anywhere but at me that I’d started to think I’d have to take it back. “Y-yeah,” he’d said. Then he’d cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. I’d like that, Regina.” I laughed out loud in the empty apartment. I could still hear the way he’d stumbled over it. For years, whenever I wondered whether he loved me, I went back to that moment. I’d thought he was too shy to say what he felt. Then I saw what he wrote when he had something he wanted to say. I tore the photograph in half. By the time my car was due, there was one suitcase by the door. I stood beside it and called Morris. Someone picked up on the second ring. “Morris, did you check the file I sent?” “He’s busy, Regina. I’ll tell him to call you back.” Cassandra. She sounded nothing like the woman who’d called Morris saying she felt too weak to get dressed. “Just tell him to open the file,” I said. “It’s urgent.” A pause. Then she gave a little sigh. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m the one he loves. It must’ve been hard, spending three years with a man who never wanted you the way he wanted me.” “I’d rather be in my shoes than yours, Cassandra.” She went quiet. “Morris doesn’t know why you really came back. Do you think I don’t know?” “Regina…” “I’m staying out of whatever you two have going on. Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.” I hung up and went downstairs. The driver put my suitcase in the trunk and asked which terminal. It felt good to answer a question that simple. I was waiting to board when Morris finally texted me. Regina Swanson, what did you say to Cassandra? A second message came through before I’d finished reading the first. Fine. I lied. Cassandra and I are together. If you’re angry, take it out on me. What does she have to do with it? Then came the part I read twice. When we get back, you’ll apologize to her. Then we can put this behind us. I laughed. The woman ahead of me glanced over her shoulder. He’d ignored the agreement for days. Cassandra had gotten him to send three messages in the time it took me to get to the airport. I typed my reply. Morris, I want a divorce. I emailed you the agreement. Sign it and send it back. The line moved. I switched off my phone and took hold of my suitcase. For three years, I’d kept my name beside his in the pack’s household register. I’d let him decide which dinners could wait, which promises counted, and when I was allowed to be hurt. At the gate, the agent checked my passport and handed it back to me. “Have a good flight, Ms. Swanson.” “Thank you,” I said, and walked on.