“He told me the condominium was partly his mother’s investment and that you were already moving out.”
“Did my clothes look packed?”
“No.”
“Did my wedding photograph look like it belonged to a former wife?”
“It was facedown when I saw it.”
“I turned it over after I found your belongings.”
Aubrey stared at me.
“I thought Grant had done that.”
“Of course you did.”
“He said you had gone away to think.”
“I had gone away because I watched him carry you into the emergency room.”
Her face lost what little color remained.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“I was sitting down the hallway holding my ultrasound.”
Aubrey’s hand froze on the stroller.
“He did not tell me that.”
“He did not know until several days later.”
“He told me you had called him from a clinic.”
“He said you announced the pregnancy to punish him.”
I felt my anger sharpen into something almost clean.
That was Grant’s talent.
He rearranged every fact until the person he hurt became the aggressor.
“Why did you contact me?” I asked.
Aubrey looked toward the window.
“After he learned you were pregnant, he told me I needed to move out.”
I had expected those words.
They still disgusted me.
“He said he would pay for an apartment and visit our son every day.”
“He kept saying that repairing your marriage was the best outcome for both children.”
“And you were surprised?”
