“See to it Declan is allowed inside as well.
I want him there.”
When I walked back into the living room, a drafted divorce agreement was already sitting on the coffee table — that was how little my leaving frightened him.
“Sign it and go,” Declan ordered.
“But Poppy stays.
Seraphina needs her to carry the train of her gown tonight.”
I picked up the pen.
I drew a single clean line through the custody clause, signed my name beneath it, and dropped the pages against his chest.
“We’ll see each other tonight,” I said, and lifted my sleeping daughter, and walked out the front door of that house for the last time.
Behind me, Declan was still smiling.