Photographed it. Gave it to me wrapped in the divorce papers.
Jolene crosses her arms as if she’s trying to hold herself together. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I thought you were different.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Better than Nelson."
Her words hit at the same spot Mia’s did.
"Jolene, there was no affair. There was...one kiss. A mistake."
She looks at me like I’m a moron. She’s not wrong. Right now, I feel like a dumbass.
“I knew something was wrong. I felt it. She was always around…Diana, I mean.” Her eyes darken, her lips press into a tight line. “I never thought you’d bethatman. Compared to Diana, Mia is so much more. She’s kind and sweet. Diana is….”
She shakes her head again, like she’s having trouble grasping my behavior. I don’t blame her. I feel the same way. I can’t believe that I turned out to be the man I swore I’d never be.
"It’s not about what happened behind closed doors, Aiden. It’s about what people think happened, whatMiathinks.Youlet that image fester.”
Her voice is not raised, it’s hushed, like the words are weighing heavily on her.
“When they called her your work wife, I told them not to, that it was wrong. But thenyoustarted calling her that.” She throws an accusatory glance at me.
“I know.”
How could I have been such a fool? So shallow? So fucking stupid?
Did I really tell Huxley that everyone has a work wife when he confronted me about it? Did I really think there would be no consequences for my actions?
“She left you?” Jolene can’t believe that; she knows how much Mia loves…lovedme.
I nod. “Handed me divorce papers from under the Christmas tree.”
That brings a smile to Jolene’s face. “Good for her.”
And because I know she’ll appreciate it, I add, “Told everyone how Dad has a mistress. Did you know her name is Kitty?”
Jolene snickers. “No.”
“Apparently, Tristan was banging the nanny. Betty fired her. And Gianna lost her job, and Patrick all their money.”
Jolene sits up, her eyes bugging out. “Everyone knows about your father. Even Edith, though she pretends not to. But Tristan? Really?”
“Like father, like son,” I say with a heavy heart. “I’m no better, am I?”
“Youarebetter, Aiden, because you feel guilt.” She looks at me with kindness that I don’t deserve. “But that’s not enough, you know that, right?”
I tip my chin in acknowledgment.
“You have a choice. You can be the man who deserves the woman you married, or you can be like your father, in which case you’ll probably have to find yourself a Kitty, ‘cause Mia is not going to hang around like your mother."
When Jolene leaves, I sit at my desk, staring at the framed photo of Mia and me on our wedding day. Her smile is beautiful, but tight; her eyes are uncertain, even behind the makeup.
I’m beaming, oblivious.
She’s in a couture gown she never wanted,surrounded by 300 people she barely knew. She’d asked for something small—just us, a few close friends, something quiet. I gave her a spectacle. A performance for my family and their world. Not a celebration for us.
And now, looking at that photo, I finally see it for what it is:the first time I didn’t listen.
If I want to win Mia back, I have to start by showing her that I respect her—and that begins by listening to her. And to do that, I need to let her go on her terms.
The thought gnaws at me all day—what I need to do, what I wish I could do, and how the hell I’ll manage it when the chance shows up.
