I’d become defensive and angry at her questions—which led me into my lawyer’s office and put me on the path to sitting here, in this waiting room, having a painful conversation with my son.

“Mom wants to stay here. She’s too sad to go back. And embarrassed.” Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed, his face hardening. “Sending the papers to her school was mean.”

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t ask for the papers to be drawn up, let alone sent. Monique did. That’s why I fired her. That and because she kissed me, which hurt you and your mother.”

Jeremiah’s mouth twisted. “One of the benefits of so many friends whose parents are divorced is we know stuff. Like the fact you had to contact the lawyer to start a divorce proceeding.”

I squeezed my hands together tighter. My fingertips tingled. “You’re right. I did. At that moment, I….I was angry, Miah. I was angry your mother didn’t trust me.” I met his gaze. “I was hurt she didn’t believe me.”

Jeremiah shoved out of his seat. He turned back to face me, the anger and despair mingling in his eyes and his voice. “Of course she didn’t believe you—not when all the articles pointed to how close you were with that woman. Or how you weren’t calling, let alone inviting us for weekends like you said you would. So, how can you say you love my mom? Or me?” He didn’t bother to look back as he trotted down the hall toward Ella’s room.

After another long moment of trying to breathe through the ache in my chest, I turned my head to look at Philip.

“I was always jealous you had her first. And I’m pissed off you saw all that. That you can exploit it when you go after her again.”

Philip considered me for a long moment, causing my palms to sweat. “I always wanted Ella.”

I placed my hands on my knees. “You still love her?”

Philip’s mouth flipped up in a sardonic twist. “Enough to put up with you.”

He shoved his hands in his slacks and walked down the hall after my son, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

Angelica slid into the chair next to me. A notepad in her lap and a pen poised over the yellow, lined paper.

“It’s all over the music news. They’re pestering the label, Asher Smith and his family, your wife’s coworkers . . . anyone they can think of for a statement. So, give me a statement. Now. That’s why I’m in England. To fix this mess.”