‘Fine.’ I could hear the anger and impatience in his voice. Well, too bad—I wasn’t going to make this easy for him. ‘But what about what the kids need? We should discuss what we’re going to tell them, before they get home.’

His mention of my babies hit me hard in the gut. This was the absolute last thing I’d ever wanted for them.

‘You want to tell them today?’ I shouted at the door.

‘I don’t see any point in prolonging the agony. We can tell them over dinner and then I’ll go.’

If he really gave a damn about Saxon and Payton, he wouldn’t be doing this. And, if he’d ever truly cared about me, the least he could do was give me a few days to get used to the idea, but he probably couldn’t wait a second longer to get on Tinder. I shuddered at the thought of my husband swiping right (or was it left?) on younger women who had perkier breasts and were far more adventurous in bed than me.

Yanking toilet paper off the roll, I wiped my eyes, unlocked the door and confronted him. ‘Where are you going to go?’

4

‘Payton, can you be quiet for a minute?’ Adrian asked when we were halfway through our evening meal of takeaway from the local Chinese restaurant. After a surprisingly civil end to our conversation this afternoon, he’d been savvy enough to know I wasn’t in the mood to make dinner.

Our daughter glared at him, shocked and irritated to be interrupted during her monologue on her plans to be captain of the Matildas by the time she was twenty-one.

‘Your mother and I have something important to discuss with you.’ Adrian sounded more nervous than I’d ever heard him, and I couldn’t help noticing he’d barely eaten any of his dinner.

Well, good—although I’d do anything not to hurt my children, I didn’t want this to be easy for him.

Payton and Saxon looked to me, clearly wondering what was going on, so I took a sip of my wine—a glass I’d poured myself, thank you very much—and looked to their father. He’d wanted me to tell them, but I’d flat out refused. This was his doing; he could do the dirty work.

After a long pause, Adrian cleared his throat. ‘Your mother and I know this will be hard for you both to comprehend …’

My fingers tightened around the stem of my wineglass. His sudden frequent use of the phrase ‘your mother and I’ grated on my already fractious nerves.

‘But the last few years haven’t been satisfying for either of us. We’ve grown apart. And although we both love you more than anything in the world, we no longer love each other.’

‘You’re getting a divorce?’

I reached out to grab Saxon’s hand, but he snatched it back.

Payton’s mouth gaped open, but no sound came out—it appeared she was suffering a rare case of not knowing what to say. As a tear trickled down her cheek, my own anger curled in my belly like a beast ready to strike. How dare Adrian make out this was a mutual decision. I wanted to yell my objection, to tell my children that I still loved their father with all my heart and didn’t want any of this any more than they did, but I’d promised Adrian we’d present a united front.