A few months later, we were finally supposed to meet at the courthouse to deal with the divorce.
I hadn’t seen Nathan in weeks.
Then I spotted him at the other end of the hallway.
He wasn’t alone.
I knew the woman standing beside him.
I’d spent months trying to forget her face.
It was the woman from the photos.
The woman Nathan had been holding on our anniversary.
Before I could even decide what to do, she walked away from Nathan and headed straight toward my lawyer.
I watched them talk.
I couldn’t hear a word.
Then she handed him something.
My lawyer looked down at it.
His expression changed.
He looked at her.
Then at Nathan.
What the hell was going on?
A minute later, the woman walked away.
My lawyer came straight toward me.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
He glanced back at Nathan.
Then he lowered his voice.
“I’m not sure you’re going to want this divorce anymore.”
I stared at my lawyer.
“What do you mean I won’t want the divorce?”
He glanced around the hallway, then pulled me aside.
“That woman — she’s not who you think she is.”
“I know exactly who she is.
