By the time I got home after having watched Birdie stomp away from the elevator, my mood was most definitely in the shitter.

And now I had to talk with Sonya about the disso-fucking-lution of our marriage.

Walking into the apartment, I saw her sitting at the dining table ready to discuss things. Great. I took off my coat, hung it on the coatrack then went to sit across from her.

“Hi,” she whispered.

I stared at her.

She bit her lip. “How was work?”

I continued staring wondering how things had gotten so bad for us.

From the moment I first saw Sonya, I’d been enamored, had practically fallen in love that very moment, despite the fact that she hadn’t been anything I ever thought I wanted which had made no damned sense. But I fell hard and two months into our relationship asked her to marry me. She’d said yes and I’d been on top of the world, so fucking happy.

Our first year had been great. We’d traveled some, moved to New York City for my job then she’d graduated college and become a social worker.

Then a year and a half into our marriage, I’d seen her snorting cocaine in a bathroom at a club and after that, all kinds of secrets had come out.

I realized now I really didn’t know the woman sitting across from me.

“Um, are you hungry? I could fix you something,” she offered to my silent stare.

“I’m good,” I answered.

She let out a sigh and fidgeted with the edge of the placemat in front of her, looking down at it apparently as at a loss for words as I was.

Welcome to the Griffins’! Aren’t we just a shit ton of fun!

Then she looked up. “I want a divorce.”

She may have been the one with heart problems, but that statement coming from her mouth made me feel like it was I who did.

Fuck.

We sat in more silence, me still staring at her while she seemingly tried unraveling the goddamned placemat.

“Tell me why,” I finally managed to say.

She looked up at me with remorseful guilt. Yeah, I made that shit up but it’s what I saw in her eyes.

“I—I’m in love with someone else.”

Narrowing my eyes, I waited for more details.

“We met…we met when I was in the hospital.”

And still I waited. She was the one ending this. She needed to be the one who fucking talked.

“He works there.”

Jesus. So in between waiting for a fucking heart and trying not to fucking die, she still found time to fall in fucking love with someone else.

The irony was not wasted on me.

Fuck!

But still I waited.

“He—he came in one day when you were there.”

That got my attention. “Who?”

She now twisted her fingers nervously, and looking down at them confessed, “Grant. He was my EKG technician.”

Squinting even harder at her, I tried remembering who this Grant the EKG Technician was. There’d been so many doctors and surgeons and nurses and others who’d worked on her during her stay it was hard to keep up with them all. Then it hit me.

He’d been the guy who’d come in after I’d found Birdie in the stairwell crying and had comforted her. The guy Sonya had smiled at so sweetly which had pissed me off since she hadn’t looked at me that way in a long time. She’d primped for the bastard, smoothing her hair with her hands, trying to make herself more presentable to him.

I felt my hands curl into fists where they rested on my thighs as my blood began to boil. “How long?”

“What?”

“How fucking long!” I shouted, making her jump, and was reminded of a similar scene where I’d yelled at her when I’d found out she’d been screwing men for drugs.

She started crying. “We—we’ve kind of been seeing each other since that day,” she croaked.

I brought my fists up to my temples and pushed in because I thought my head was going to explode.

Sobbing, she whimpered, “I—I’m s-sorry, Beck.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re sorry.” It wasn’t fair, but I now looked at her as if she were the lowest form of being on the face of the planet. “This entire fucking time, all I’ve done is try to do the right thing.” My head went down and I massaged my temples now with my thumb and finger of my hand.

It was her turn to emit an amused laugh. I glanced up to see her scowling hatefully at me. “While you’ve been in love with someone else.”

  Touché.

“At least I fucking tried with us.” I glared at her viciously.

She let out an annoyed sound and semi rolled her eyes. “Sure, Beck.”

“And I damned sure wasn’t fucking her,” I countered cruelly. Her flinch made me glad that I’d wounded her. But my claim woke me up and I was suddenly furious. No wonder Sonya hadn’t slept with me in over two goddamned years; she’d been sleeping with Tech Guy. Placing my hands on the table, I asked, “You fucking him?” She had the nerve to look hurt that I’d asked that, which really pissed me the hell off. Pushing down on the table with my hands, I stood quickly, toppling my chair as I did and bellowed, “Are. You. Fucking. Him!”

And suddenly shit got worse—or better depending on how you look at it—because good ol’ Grant the EKG Technician came storming into the kitchen.

“Stop yelling at her!” he growled, coming straight at me, fists swinging.

I blocked his punch with one arm and landed my own squarely on his jaw knocking him the fuck out.  Asshole went down like a sack of potatoes and Sonya screamed, coming out of her chair to kneel by his side hollering his name.

Jesus Christ.

Shaking my fist out, I walked calmly to our bedroom, grabbed a duffle bag and packed a few things before making my way into our bathroom and doing the same.

Our.

This was the last time any of it would ever be ours again.

And somehow, after walking back into the living room, pulling my coat on, and seeing Tech Guy sitting woozily on the floor just before he puked everywhere, I was okay with that.