I Stopped Landing for You

Renee's POV: I had barely slipped my key into the lock when the door opened from the inside. Darren stood there in a gray bathrobe, his hair still damp. He looked surprised to see me. "Renee? I thought you weren't getting back until tomorrow." "Today. 6:40 a.m." He took my suitcase. "You should've reminded me." I opened our text thread and pulled up the flight details I'd sent him 10 days earlier. Beneath them was another message. Renee: Could you pick me up this time? I've been really tired lately. Under both texts, it said Delivered. I held the phone out to him, my fingertip resting beneath the words really tired. Darren gave the screen a cursory glance, irritation flickering across his face. "It's been a crazy few days. Selena's shoot in Rosehaven didn't go well. She's been crying nonstop, and I've had to talk her down." "So you went to the airport." "Her flight didn't get in until the middle of the night. I didn't want her going home alone." "My flight landed only 50 minutes after hers." "I didn't know you were coming back today." I bent down to take off my shoes. My throat tightened, and my left ear rang. "Trip okay?" he asked casually. My hands stilled on my laces. On the plane, I had been shaking so hard I couldn't even fasten my seat belt. Now, hearing that halfhearted question, my eyes began to burn. "On my flight today, the plane..." His phone chimed. He looked down to type, a smile tugging at his lips. It was a long while before he glanced back up. "What were you saying?" I gripped the loose shoelace and shook my head. "Nothing. The trip was fine." In the bathroom, my hand cream had been shoved to the back of the medicine cabinet. A rose-colored lipstick and a bottle of makeup remover occupied its old spot. "They're Selena's," Darren said, following me to the doorway. "You're away so much. She comes over a few times a week and helps out with the cooking." Holding the hand cream, I turned to him. "You gave her a key?" "The spare. I've known her for almost 15 years. It's just easier." "This is our home. Why didn't you ask me first?" He frowned. "She's not a stranger. She's just helping out." I tightened the cap, too exhausted to argue. When I said nothing, his expression relaxed. Before going into the bedroom, he pointed toward the kitchen. "Don't put away the paper bag on the counter. I got Selena a travel pillow. She's got another long-haul flight next week." The corner of an ivory pillow peeked out of the bag, embroidered with the letter S. Last winter, after landing with a neck so stiff I could barely turn my head, I had shown him an ad from the same store. He hadn't even finished looking at it before saying, "Don't they give you pillows in business class? Don't waste your money." I touched the edge of the bag. A gift box and ribbon sat inside. After the bedroom door closed, I sat at the dining table for a while. Then I took the divorce papers my lawyer had prepared from a hidden compartment in my suitcase. My hand was still trembling when I turned to the signature page. My phone vibrated with a message from Camila Ross, who led the Auremont team. Camila: Renee, your flight and apartment for Monday are both booked. Are you ready on your end? I looked at the paper bag and typed two words. Renee: I'm ready.