Chapter 14

Latisha's fingers clenched, crinkling the ultrasound picture. She quickly flipped it over and hid it under a cushion before standing to face Clifford.

*The divorce papers,* she signed, trying to keep her hands steady. *Do you want to see them?*

His eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from her hands to her face. He strode toward her, his presence filling the room, and held out his hand. "Let me see."

Latisha froze. She couldn't tell if he had changed his mind or if he knew she was lying. But she couldn't risk it. She couldn't lose this baby, too.

Her hand trembled as she reached out and placed it in his. Then, she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest.

Clifford didn't move.

After a moment, Latisha pulled away and signed, *I don't want a divorce anymore. I was wrong.*

"Were you?" A flicker of surprise crossed Clifford's face.

She nodded earnestly, her eyes wide and sincere.

Finally, his expression softened. He reached out and cupped her cheek, his voice gentle. "Then don't ever let me see those words again. Understand?"

Latisha nodded and forced a smile.

Clifford dropped his hand and went upstairs. The moment he was gone, she sank onto the sofa, weak with relief. She took the ultrasound picture, tore it into tiny pieces, and threw it in the trash.

Clifford went to his study; it seemed he was staying the night. Latisha went to the kitchen and cooked a full dinner. When it was ready, she went to his study and knocked four times-their old signal for dinner.

He came down a few minutes later, changed into a set of gray loungewear that made him look

younger, more relaxed. It was him et

at-home attire, a sign that he wasn't going out again unless the world was ending.

During dinner, his phone buzzed. Latisha caught a glimpse of the screen: Yesenia.

He glanced at it, then silenced the phone and placed it face down on the table. Not even his injured lover could break his routine.

He looked up and caught her watching him. She immediately dropped her gaze and focused on her food.

After their silent meal, Latisha was clearing the dishes when he called to her from the living room. "Come here."

She joined him on the sofa. He picked up the remote and put his arm around her. "What cartoon do you want to watch?"

For a moment, she was transported back in time.

When she didn't answer, he found an old "Tom and Jerry" marathon. As the familiar

theme music began to play, her eyes welled with tears.

When she was ten, Renata had mocked her for watching cartoons and had snatched the remote. Clifford had come in, taken it back, and put the cartoon back on then he had sat beside her, just like this, and watched it with her.

But she didn't watch cartoons anymore. She wasn't a child.