- Aria
The next day, I caught up with Alder at a coffee shop downtown.
Alder stared at me, like I’d just told him I planned to jump off a cliff for cardio.
“Aria,” he said slowly and carefully, like he was defusing a bomb, “you can’t be serious.”
I wrapped my fingers around the coffee cup in front of me. It had gone cold ten minutes ago. I hadn’t noticed. “I am.”
He leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair, then leaned forward again. “You’re talking about divorce. With two kids. You don’t just—” He stopped himself, sighed. “At least think about what you’re giving up.”
I smiled slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it for years.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Alder shot back. “You’re a Luna. You’re their mother. You have rights to property, assets, and support.
