Chapter 317 Let’s Get a Divorce

Chapter 317: Chapter 317 Let’s Get a Divorce

Sebastian’s POV

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. We were still joined, still locked in that hazy afterglow, her body warm around mine.

If Emilia had said those words just to scar me off sex for the rest of my life, well, that was a special kind of cruel.

I pulled out of her slowly, stood, and set her legs down against the sheets.

Ryder went quiet inside me, and that silence said more than any snarl.

Through the dark I stared at her. "What did you say?"

I didn’t know if I was asking to prove I’d misheard, or hoping she’d take it back.

Emilia dropped her head and fisted the quilt beneath her. "I said, let’s get a divorce."

I grabbed her shoulder. "Why?"

Her tears started rolling down her cheeks. "No reason. I’m tired, Sebastian. I don’t want to keep living like this."

"Like what?"

She said nothing. Even now, cornered, she wouldn’t tell me.

I picked my clothes up off the floor and pulled them on, one piece at a time. Then I went to the tall windows, lit a cigarette, and listened to the waves crashing somewhere far off.

The quiet stretched on. I stood with my back to her while she hid in the dark and cried without a sound.

I reached over and flipped on the chandelier. The whole room lit up at once, and it took us both a second to adjust.

"Is it because you can’t get pregnant?" I asked, offhand.

Emilia’s head jerked up. She stared at me like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard, the same way I couldn’t believe she’d float a divorce on a night this good.

"How did you know that?"

She asked it after a long pause, her voice shaking.

I dragged deep on the cigarette and held the smoke in my mouth. I didn’t swallow it, that bitter, choking lungful.

"I’ve known for a while. I found out the night you flew to Switzerland."

Her tears broke loose like a snapped string of pearls. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but the sobs got through anyway.

"You weren’t beside me that night. I missed you. So I went into that little room of yours and lay down on your bed. The report was tucked under your pillow. I saw it by accident." I stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette. "My chest just, tore open. And I thought back to the look on your face before you left. All that weight you were carrying behind a smile."

Emilia cried harder.

"So, when you said you didn’t want kids, that was because of the report? You said that to make me feel better?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She lost it then, sobbing openly. "Why? Why didn’t you just ask me, if you already knew? Why bury the fact that you want to be a father, for my sake?"

My wolf ached under my ribs. Ryder wanted her, wanted a pup, wanted all of it. And still.

I crushed the cigarette out and crossed the room to her, slow. I stretched my arms around her from behind and pulled her tight against my chest. "Because I love you. Everything I do, I do for you. Would I like a kid? Sure. But you matter more. I can live without a child, Emilia. I can’t live without you."

Maybe that last line landed too heavy. Emilia went boneless in my arms.

"Sebastian, I’m scared," she choked out. "I’m terrified you’ll stop loving me one day. What am I supposed to do then?"

"That day is never coming. So drop the word ’divorce,’ all right? You think ugly thoughts, you build yourself an ugly future. So quit letting them run loose in that head of yours. Understand?"

"But what if I can’t give you a pup? You’re the last of your bloodline. Your father, your pack, they need an heir. That’s the whole point of a Luna."

I sighed. "Stop torturing yourself over it. I’ve already decided. If we can’t have our own in a year or two, we adopt."

"Adopt?" She repeated it, lost.

"You’d be okay with that?"

"Why wouldn’t I? Ours or adopted, if we love the kid for real, there’s no difference. And no, that wasn’t just something I said to comfort you. I’ve always thought that way."

She dropped her head and cried again.

I held her, pressed my forehead to hers. My own voice came out rough. "Emilia. Are we okay now? Let’s not do this anymore. No more secrets from me. Whatever comes at us, we handle it together. And don’t you ever bring up divorce again. You throw that word around like it’s nothing, and it’s worse than a knife in the chest."

"Okay," she whispered. "I won’t say it again."

I wiped the wet from under her eyes with my thumb and let out a breath. "You know, I used to think I wanted an obedient wife. Now I think I just want one who doesn’t cry so damn much. Save us both the trouble."

She laughed, thick and hoarse. "Come on. Let’s go eat some pasta."

We walked out to the living room hand in hand. The carbonara she’d made had gone soft and soupy, the sauce running loose on the plate. I grinned. "This the gourmet spread you cooked up special for me?"

She flushed and reached for the plates. "I’ll make it again."

"Don’t bother." I grabbed the plate first. "I’m starving. This is fine."

I pulled out a stool, sat, and forked a mouthful in. Talked around it while I chewed. "See, everything tastes good when you’re hungry enough. Beats any five-star place."

She smiled, sat down across from me, and started in on the soggy noodles too.

"Sebastian, you don’t have to force it down if it’s bad. Even over something small like dinner. It’s a habit thing. Start swallowing everything you don’t like, and pretty soon you’re doing it everywhere. Makes for a miserable life."

I stopped chewing. I knew she wasn’t talking about pasta. I grinned. "Never happen. I’m only patient about food. In every other department, especially women, I’ve got no patience at all."

"You’ve been married what, six times? Weren’t those you just gritting your teeth and putting up with it?"

"I put up with it at the time. Then it stopped working, no matter how much I put up."

"Why?"

"Because some woman told me, to my face, real cocky, that she’d be the last woman I married. Back then I laughed at her for being full of herself." I looked up at her. "And now here she is, beating me at my own game."

The corner of her mouth curled up, and something in her eyes went soft.