* * *
“Janine?” I hear Dash’s voice before I see him. He stands over the bathtub, looking at me with an expression of shock and confusion. “Janine, what are you doing here?”
I can’t stand to look at him. “I got tired of the party.”
“It’s over.”
It is. Have I been crying in the bathroom for that long?
“What happened to your dress?”
“It’s fine. I never liked it anyway.”
Dash kneels beside the tub. “Janine, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why?” I look at him as I place my arms around my knees, noting the uneasy glint in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned down.
He seems really worried, but I don’t care.
“Why should I tell you? Why do you care?”
He grips the edge of the tub. “Because I’m your husband.”
“Fake husband,” I remind, glaring. “We signed a contract. Get married, have a child, divorce after five years.”
“Only if you want.”
I look at him. “But you knew I’d want one.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Do you?”
I shake my head. “Oh, come on. Stop. You’re a good actor, but you’re not that good.”
Dash stands up, his arms folded over his chest. His blue eyes narrow and crackle with indignation. “Alright. What is this really about?”
I stand up, my hands gripping my skirt. “You only married me because you were going to lose your inheritance.”
Dash’s eyes grow wide.
So it’s true.
He swallows and leans closer, his indignation fading now. “Who told you?”
“Billy,” I confess. “It turns out he’s more honest than you are.”
Dash frowns then touches my arm. “Janine…”
I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Janine…”
“You said there would be no secrets or lies between us, but that was a lie! Everything was a lie!”
He takes a deep breath. “It was a lie we agreed to tell together. I don’t want to get a divorce.”
“Why? Is there ANOTHER secret clause in your father’s will about not getting divorced?”
“No!” Dash yells, offended.
“Why should I believe you?” I place my hand on my chest. “You just used me so you could get your inheritance.”
“You used me, too.”
“Yes.” I step out of the bathtub, pointing to myself. “I did. I did it for someone I loved. But you…” I point my finger at his chest. “You did it for money.”
Dash shakes his head. “I didn’t want the money for me. I wanted it so I could help—”
“I don’t care what your reasons were!” I push him back and clamber out of the stupid tub, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. “You used me, Dash. You used me to get your money and you’ve known it all along. That’s why you didn’t tell me. Because you knew I would get mad! You knew your motives were bullshit! You knew you were wrong, and you still put a baby in me!”
I go to give him another push and Dash grabs my hands. “I understand how you feel, Janine. I know you hate me right now, but please listen. I—”
“I don’t hate you.” I shake my head, wrenching my hands away. “I hate myself. I’m the one who was stupid enough to trust you. I was stupid enough to think your motives were noble—but we never had anything in common.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“So stupid.” I place my hand on my forehead, feeling slightly dizzy as I look at the floor. “Because for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that everything was real. But it’s all just an act.” My voice trembles as I force myself to ask, “Why did you even go with me to Mom’s funeral?”
Dash says nothing, because there’s nothing to say. I push by him, out of the bathroom and into the walk-in closet. I change as quickly as I can into a t-shirt and jeans. Then I grab some more clothes and toss them into a suitcase. I’m not really paying attention to what I’m doing. It’s totally possible that I just grabbed a bathing suit and a nightgown. I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything is a miserable blur right now, crashing down around my head, and I just have to get out of here.
“What are you doing?” Dash asks, standing over me.
“Leaving.” I close the suitcase and carry it to the bedroom, then go to the nursery, getting Brandon out of his crib. “I’m taking Brandon with me.”
“He’s my son, too. And the contract says you can’t leave me.” His voice hardens and strengthens when he says the word can’t. “Not for three more years.”
I turn to face him, Brandon squirming in my arms. “It said I can’t divorce you. It didn’t say anything about me walking out the front door.”
Dash blocks the door into the hallway. “I won’t let you,” he says. “Not with Brandon.”
I meet his gaze, my heart sinking at his hardened expression.
Is he really going to do this to me? Is he really going to deny me my son after he just hurt me in the worst possible way?
I look at my son, sleeping innocently.
Can I really leave him?
But I have to. As much as it tears me apart, I can’t stay here with his jerk of a father another second. I can’t keep this stupid act up anymore.
“Fine.” I hand our son over to him, silently promising myself I’ll come back for him. “But I’m leaving.”
I grab my suitcase and my purse, walking out of the room.