I had imagined this moment would be louder. I thought betrayal would make me wild. But standing there, I felt something cleaner than rage.
I felt DONE.
"You told her we were separated," I said. "You told her we had a child. You told her I was cold and that I didn't love you. And you let me pack your lunches while you played wounded husband upstairs."
People had begun to glance over. Jeremy noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Lower your voice," he said.
That almost made me smile.
"For three years, I lowered my voice," I replied. "I made excuses. I waited for you to come home. I BELIEVED you when you said everything was FINE."
His eyes softened in that practiced way I knew too well. "Baby, please. We can talk at home."
I shook my head. "No. You can talk to my lawyer."
The words surprised even me, but once they were out, they felt right.
