The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 5

Returning to Simon's apartment, Clara unlocked the door with her fingerprint.

The living room was a mess. Takeout boxes were piled on the coffee table, and clothes were strewn across the sofa.

Clearly, his boyfriend had come back.

Clara made a point of being noisy, clanging things around.

Simon came out of the bedroom with messy hair. Seeing her, he was shocked.

"Holy shit, princess. Didn't you go back with him last night? I thought you two had a night of passion, rekindled the flame, and went straight for a second honeymoon."

Clara ignored him. She threw her bag on the hallway cabinet, kicked off her boots, walked to the sofa, and collapsed into it.

Simon scooted over, sat next to her, and examined her face closely.

"What happened? Was he upset you again?"

"No. I just realized it's pointless."

Seeing her look half-dead enraged Simon.

"Is there something wrong with Rhys? He coaxes you back just to piss you off enough to leave again? Does he think he's walking a dog?"

Clara let out a weak, humorless laugh.

Exactly like walking a dog.

The kind of stupid dog that runs back wagging its tail as soon as the owner crooks a finger.

"No, I have to call him. I'm going to curse him out! Who does he think he is, torturing you like this?"

"Don't call," Clara stopped him. "It's useless."

Simon looked at her with a mix of anger and disappointment. He stood up and nudged her with his foot. "Clara, can you show some spine? What did he say to you to make you look like a zombie?"

Clara was silent for a moment.

"He agreed to have a baby."

Simon froze.

"And?"

"And, I asked him who that woman was. He said..."

Clara sat up straight, imitating Rhys's tone, expressionless.

"'There is nothing to explain.'"

Simon laughed in disbelief.

Adhering to the principle of 'best friends advise breaking up, not making up,' he sat back down next to Clara and patted her back.

"Honey, listen to me. When a man says 'nothing to explain,' it equals 'the situation is too complicated, I'm too lazy to lie, and don't you even think about knowing.'"

Clara leaned back on the sofa, staring at the oddly shaped chandelier on the ceiling, suddenly remembering the home she shared with Rhys.

When they first got the keys, she had dragged him to the furniture store.

Clara had spotted a lamp instantly—shaped like a cloud, soft and dreamy.

Rhys thought it was gaudy and hard to clean.

Clara didn't care. She hugged his arm, swinging it back and forth, begging and saying she wanted it, promising she'd clean it every day.

Rhys couldn't say no to her. He bought it in the end.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify