Your Love Isn’t Worth Anything
Vance Clinic.
The second-floor consultation room.
When I arrived, Massimo had been waiting for who knew how long. The coffee in front of him had gone completely cold.
Ten years ago, Aiden had been saved on the first floor of this building.
Two years ago, so had he.
Sometimes, the world had a cruel sense of irony.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting across from him.
He lifted his head, his eyes dazed and lost.
“Are you really going to divorce me?”
I frowned.
“What else? I already signed the agreement and sealed it in wax. You think I’m playing house with you?”
Massimo lowered his eyes.
I thought he would push the signed divorce papers across the table so we could part with what little decency remained.
Instead, he said, “I don’t agree. I won’t divorce
