You Were Just Passing Through My Life

Twenty years together.

It was the first time I had ever picked up Finn Simmons's phone.

A contact saved as 'Little Crybaby' had just sent a selfie, a face cried red and blotchy.

Finn, do I look pretty when I cry?

The cold went through me, head to foot.

The next second, he came out of the bedroom.

He saw the phone in my hand and put out his hand, flat and unbothered. "Give it back."

My knuckles went white. "You're not going to explain?"

His face didn't change.

"Nothing to explain. It's exactly what you think. I cheated."

My voice shook. "Why?"

He lit a cigarette, looked at me, and smiled.

"Because she cries better than you. Does that count?"

...

The air went still in an instant.

I watched the smoke rise from between his fingers, drawing a thin gray line in the space between us.

His eyes crossed it and settled on my face.

"See?"

He spoke, and there was a kind of expected mockery in it. "You go quiet again. You don't say anything. You didn't even tear up."

He turned and walked toward the balcony, done with the bother of dealing with me.

"Finn."

I called him.

He stopped, but he didn't turn around.

There was so much I had meant to ask him.

When it started. Whether he thought he'd done right by me, doing this.

What he meant by that line, "she cries better than you."

Ten years dating, ten years married, twenty years in all.

I was thirty-six now.

My whole life tied to him.

When was the last time I had cried in front of him?

I couldn't remember.

But I remembered the year he got hurt.

Twenty-two, not long after he started the company, a fight with someone, badly hurt.

I cried in the hospital corridor until I couldn't breathe.

He lay on the bed, blood still on his face, and reached up to wipe my tears, his voice so hoarse I could barely hear it.

"Baby, don't cry. Crying is the most useless thing."

"Don't worry. I'm really fine."

After that, I never cried again.

No matter what happened.

When his company failed, I stayed up through countless nights with him. I didn't cry.

When his mother died, I held him up at the funeral. I didn't cry.

When our child was beaten until I lost the pregnancy, I didn't dare tell him, and I didn't cry.

Later, when he stayed out all night and said it was company business, I waited in the living room until dawn. I didn't cry then either.

The man who taught me that crying was useless.

And now he was telling me he'd cheated because she cried better than I did.

I swallowed those questions back down one by one, like swallowing nails, my throat full of the taste of rust.

In the end, all I asked was this:

"Are you drawing up the divorce papers, or am I?"

He didn't move.

A few seconds passed, then he turned his head to look at me.

"Stephanie Hughes."

He used my full name, a laugh under his voice. "How old are you now?"

I didn't answer.

He set the cigarette back between his lips and turned to face me.

Leaning against the balcony doorframe, lazy and loose.

"Thirty-six, isn't it."

"A woman's golden years are only a handful, and yours are long gone. On top of that, no job, no income, your figure's gone, and you're nothing much to look at."

"What have you got left now? Oh, right"

He paused, like he'd just remembered something amusing. "Ten years married to me, never once any birth control, and you never got pregnant once. You can't even have a child."

"Who do you think would want you, once you've left me?"

I froze where I stood.

I couldn't believe those words had actually come out of his mouth.

I'd known him for twenty years.

I'd seen him at eighteen, the way he came swaggering toward me across the field after scoring a goal.

I had seen him at twenty-two, lying in a pool of blood, calling my name.

I had seen him at twenty-five, drunk at a banquet table after his startup finally took off, holding me and saying, Steph, I love you. I can finally give you a good life.

A cigarette burned down to the filter.

He crushed the stub against the balcony railing.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and didn't answer.

But I saw it clearly.

The name saved on that screen.

Little Crybaby.

Something turned over in my stomach, and acid rose into my throat.

I bit down hard on my lip and forced it back down.

Finn slipped the phone back into his pocket, then pulled out his wallet and took out a card.

This is the household money for the month.

He held the card out.

I didn't take it.

He gave a short scoff, stepped closer, and pushed the card straight into the pocket of my pajamas.

Then he stepped back and looked at me.

His eyes ran over me from head to foot, like he was confirming something.

Then he spoke.

Steph, you're not young anymore. When you make a scene, it isn't cute, and it definitely isn't playing hard to get. It just makes you look like a shrew.

So be good. Don't make a fuss. Pretend you didn't see anything, pretend you don't know.

It's better for you, and better for me.

The door closed.

He was gone.

I stood where I was.

That bank card suddenly burned against me, an ache through my whole body.

The nausea surged up again.

This time I didn't hold it back. I turned and rushed into the bathroom, bent over the toilet, and dry-heaved for a long while.

But nothing came up.

I stayed crouched there, my forehead pressed against the cold rim of the porcelain.

My heart hurt, and my eyes hurt.

I wanted so badly to cry.

But not a single tear would fall.

As if to remind me again.

See? Teaching you to cry was the most useless thing of all.

And now he'd fallen for a woman who cried so well.

Still.

It was over.

All of it was over.

I got up.

The so-called household money he'd given me over the years, the necklaces and jewelry he'd given me on anniversaries.

I put it all into one box and set it in the most visible spot.

Then I dug out my phone and sent my best friend a message.

Come take me home.

After I sent it, I went to a law office and had the divorce agreement drawn up.

Only then did I go to his company.

The moment I reached the door.

I ran straight into Finn coming out with a girl in his arms, her face turned away where I couldn't see it.

When he saw me, he gave me a flat glance, as if he hadn't seen me at all, and moved to get into the car.

I stepped forward and blocked him.

I held out the divorce agreement.

Sign it.

Finn didn't even look at it. Move. I've got something urgent. I don't have time for your scenes right now.

I didn't move. My voice was steady.

Finn, I'm not making a scene.

Finn looked like he'd heard a joke.

He said nothing.

He just shoved me aside.

And got into the car with the woman in his arms.

I watched the car speed off.

Suddenly I wanted to know what he was going to do.

I raised my hand and flagged down a cab.

Follow that Maybach up ahead.

The car raced the whole way and stopped outside a villa on the city's outskirts.

I got out, paid, and walked toward the Maybach.

Just as I was about to get close.

The car suddenly began to move in a steady rhythm.

I froze where I stood.

Cold all over.

Something urgent.

So this was the urgent thing he'd meant?

A man's low growling and a woman's crying sounded as if they'd been blown up through a loudspeaker, a thousand times louder.

Boring into my ears without stopping.

But I didn't move.

I just stood there and watched and listened to the whole thing, my husband tangled up with another woman.

Before long, Finn pushed the car door open.

He helped out a woman whose flushed cheeks were wrapped in his suit jacket, tears still in her eyes.

When he saw me, he stopped for half a second, then let out a thin laugh.

"You really have to make a scene with me?"

I said nothing.

I lifted my numb arm and held the papers out to him.

"Sign."

Finn stared at me for a full ten seconds, then he smiled.

"Fine. Wait here."

He carried the woman into the villa.

I waited from dawn until dark.

Then from dark until dawn again.

He never came.

Not until the sunlight stabbed at my eyes, too bright to keep them open.

Finn finally walked out, leading the girl by the hand.

And I finally got a clear look at her face.

A face full of collagen, dressed in the newest couture, hair in a high ponytail. When she smiled, the dimples gave her away no matter how she tried to hide them.

Finn turned his head to talk to her.

That gentle look on him. I'd seen it before, once.

My eyes stung.

But not a single tear would fall.

He led her forward, and then he saw me.

As if he couldn't believe I was still standing there.

When the girl saw me, she covered her lips, startled.

She grabbed Finn's hand, and the tears came on command.

"Finn, it's all my fault."

"If I hadn't clung to you in bed yesterday and kept you, your wife wouldn't have stood out here all night waiting for you."

Pain rose in Finn's eyes at once. He wiped her tears away.

His voice was pure indulgence. "My little crybaby, this isn't your fault. You just cry so prettily that I couldn't bear to stop."

And he bent down and kissed her forehead.

I pressed my lips together.

Just as I started to turn my head away,

Finn tipped his chin at me.

"Didn't you want a divorce? Get in. We'll go to my office and I'll talk terms with you."

I didn't refuse.

I stepped up and pulled open the passenger door.

The moment I started to climb in, someone yanked my arm hard.

"The front seat in this car is Sara's."

"You sit in the back."

Finn helped the girl in, shielding her.

I'd stood all night.

My legs had long gone numb.

With that one jerk of his hand,

I stumbled a few steps and fell to the ground.

My knee came down on a stone and started bleeding.

The pain made me suck in a breath.

I looked up.

At some point Finn had already gotten into the car.

He was buckling that girl's seatbelt for her.

I forced myself up through the pain and got into the back.

The whole drive, the two of them up front were all over each other.

I said nothing, just looked out the window.

In the office,

Finn set the papers down in front of me.

"I'll only give you the house. Don't think you'll get a single cent of anything else."

"All these years, all you did was sit behind me. You're nothing, so I won't give you anything."

"So, Stephanie, think it over carefully. Are we really getting divorced or not."

"Leave me and you'll never live this well again."

"And you'll never meet another man like me."

"And me? Women lining up one after another, more than I can count, mine to pick from. And you? Off to be some kid's stepmother, where everyone will"

"Fine."

I cut him off.

I didn't want to hear any more.

Finn froze.

I picked up the pen without looking and flipped to the last page.

The tip had barely touched the paper.

"Stephanie!"

He slammed his hand down on the paper, his face dark. "I'll give you one more chance. Think it over. You really want this divorce?"

"Yes."

I smiled and brushed his hand aside.

"I want the divorce."

I signed cleanly.

I handed it back to him.

"You sign too."

Finn's face got uglier and uglier.

"Stephanie, it's such a small thing, do you really have to"

"Finn."

My voice shot up out of nowhere, and every grievance I'd buried in my heart broke loose all at once.

"You cheated! And you're standing here asking me if it's necessary? Do you have any idea how sick this is?"

Finn went blank for a few seconds.

Then his hand came up and gripped my shoulder.

"We've been together twenty years. Twenty whole years, never apart once. People get sick of an object after that long, let alone a person."

"Besides, you're free to go find another man. I won't stop you."

In that moment.

I finally understood that the Finn in front of me wasn't the Finn I used to know.

All that was left of him now was something that turned my stomach.

I shoved him off me.

"Finn, don't make me hate you even more."

"Just sign it."

Finn stood there a few seconds.

Then he picked up the pen. "Fine. I'll sign. We'll see down the line who"

He'd only just written the F.

A tearful voice came from the doorway.

"Finn, I'm bleeding."

Sara stood in the doorway, blood running down between her legs.

Her face was white, her eyes red.

"Finn, my stomach hurts so much."

I froze.

Looking at the state of her.

It looked exactly the way I had, the time I lost my baby.

So.

Finn had gotten her pregnant?

I turned to look at him.

A figure rushed past my eyes.

He'd already swept the girl up and was striding out.

Every step.

Frantic.

All that was left on the desk was a divorce agreement with a single half-written name on it.

I picked up the pen and finished the rest of his signature, copying his handwriting.

Back when he was first starting the company.

He was exhausted past the point of standing.

He'd fall asleep reading over a contract.

It hurt me to watch, so I had him teach me his handwriting.

He'd review them, and I'd sign the contracts for him.

Hundreds, thousands of contracts later.

My hand and his were almost indistinguishable.

Signed, I took it to the county records office.

On the way, I listed the marital house as a resale and sold it cheap.

Then I sent my best friend a message.

And sat at the curb to wait for her.

But half an hour passed.

She still hadn't come.

I was about to call and ask.

Finn's call came through first.

"Stephanie, if you've got the nerve, come find me yourself. Don't send your friend to lose her mind in front of Sara."

I had no idea what he meant.

He'd already hung up.

By the time I got to the hospital.

I walked in just as Madison's hand cracked across Finn's face, screaming through her tears.

"Finn! You animal! You and Steph were together twenty years! Twenty whole years! Now that you've made it, now that you're somebody, you have the gall to cheat?"

"And you got another woman pregnant. After all that, can you even look her in the eye?"

Finn's face darkened. "Why should I feel I owe her anything?"

"All these years she sat in the back like a parasite, like some cold machine, didn't even know how to cry. She couldn't even give me a child after all this time. Why should I stay tied to her?"

"Finn!" Madison's hands were shaking with rage, the tears pouring down her face. "You were the one who told her crying was useless, and now you turn around and blame her for it? And do you have any idea what Steph gave up back then, for you"

"That's enough!"

I stepped in, cutting her off, and pulled her back.

I looked at Finn.

"Sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you."

Finn stalled for two seconds.

Before he could say anything.

A weak "Finn" drifted out from the hospital room.

He shot me one last sickened look.

"Stephanie, everything you do now makes me sick."

"The divorce agreement. Whenever Sara's better, that's when I'll sign it."

I wanted to tell him there was no need. I'd already signed.

But he'd already turned and gone in.

Madison, beside herself, started after him.

I caught her by the arm.

"All right, that's enough."

"We're going to miss the flight. We need to go."