Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 98

Chapter 90: Torn About Nick

Sedona’s POV

I took a deep breath keeping quiet for a moment as I processed what Cameron had told me about Nick, Nick who was not to be blamed, Nck who had been manipulated by Sherry, Catherine and Logan and had doner shitty things to me that he regretted.

“Nick,” I said, and the name did the thing it always did, which was tighten something in my chest that hadn’t fully loosened since the day I’d walked out of Logan’s house. “If Logan wants to do something useful, he should focus on Nick. He should be looking after his son, not chasing after me. Nick needs his father present, actually present, not distracted by guilt about a wife he was happy enough to ignore while she was right in front of him.”

“I’ll communicate that to him, that is a valid concern and you are right on that account.” He said with a nod

of his head.

“Nick is what matters.” I heard the conviction in my own voice, the clarity of it, and recognized it as something that had solidified during the weeks of treatment-the stripping away of complications that kept making the problem bigger than what it actually was, the reduction to what was actually true.

“Whatever happens with me, whatever the markers show, whatever Frank’s next report says-Nick is what matters. He needs stability as a child, he needs people that will stay for him. He needs a parent who is actually paying attention.” I paused. “When I’m out of here-when I’m better and out of this hospital-I’ll decide then whether to reach out to him. About Nick. Not about anything else.”

“Not about Logan.”

“My marriage is finished, Cameron. I knew that since the day I decided to divorce him, I was not waiting on a pleading to take him back, if that was the case, I would not have signed the divorce papers, I would have left like that. Whatever he’s feeling now-guilt, loss, whatever version of missing me he’s experiencing-it’s not love. It was never love. Not the kind that does anything useful to me, nor does it does anything to change the past. It’s the love of someone, if i can even call it love, who didn’t notice the thing they had until the thing was gone, and now they notice it because the absence is inconvenient for them and they want things to go back to normal.”

Cameron said nothing, which was its own form of response.

“He loved the system,” I said. “He loved what I did for his house, taking care of everything and his son and his life. He loved the labels in the suits and the lavender cream and the fact that everything worked and he never had to think about why it worked. He loved the output of my sufferings and hardwork that I had put in to make the marriage work. He didn’t love me.” I said it without bitterness, or tried to-said it as a thing I’d arrived at through looking at it clearly rather than through the distortion of hurt. “And I can’t go back to someone who loves the output. I’m not a system. I’m a person.”

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