The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 26

"Be good, Archie. Dad has work to do. Come have a nice dinner with us!" his grandfather offered a strained smile, stepping forward to scoop the boy up.

"Dad, you just got discharged from the hospital, watch your back. Let me hold Archie."

Quinn hurried over, her face the picture of perfect concern.

As she walked past Garrison, she murmured softly.

"Garrison, tell Sloane to come home soon. If she's still angry... I can apologize to her personally."

"No need."

Garrison shot back curtly.

*

0520. It was the apartment's passcode, and also the date of Garrison and Sloane's wedding. It hadn't changed in all these years.

Garrison keyed in the numbers and pushed the door open.

The apartment was pitch black. No lights were on. By the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, a single red ember glowed and faded in the thick darkness.

Sloane stood with her back to him, barefoot on the freezing hardwood floor, wearing only a silk robe. The night breeze drifted in through the half-open window, tossing her loose hair. A slender cigarette was perched between her fingers, the smoke blurring her elegant silhouette.

Garrison stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing instantly. He despised the smell of smoke, especially inside his own home.

Sloane should have known that perfectly well.

Yet, he didn't say a word. He shrugged off his coat, unbuttoned his collar, and strode directly toward her. His dress shoes clicked sharply against the floor.

"Sloane? You're home."

Sloane didn't turn around, acting as if she hadn't heard a thing.

"Why haven't you answered my calls for a month?" Garrison deliberately forced his eyes away, a trace of displeasure bleeding into his tone.

Sloane paused. Had it really been a month? Apparently, when you truly decide to let someone go, time flies effortlessly.

Taking her silence as lingering anger, Garrison decided to extend an olive branch.

"When we were in Stockholm, didn't you say you had something to tell me?"

Sloane gave a soft hum of agreement. She turned, opened a drawer, and pulled out a neatly folded document.

"Sign it." She handed it over without hesitation.

Garrison didn't reach for it. He stared down at the paper, then back up at her, his eyes unreadable in the shadows. "What is this?"

"Divorce papers."