Chapter 45
FISHER
Ebba’s been acting funny the past few days.
Something’s off but when I ask her about it, she’s quick to dismiss it.
I’m hoping it’s just to do with whatever illness has her bogged down right now.
I keep trying to push her to go to the hospital, but every time I bring it up, she’s quick to dismiss the idea.
I should be celebrating the fact that both Noah and Elias have made it to the final of Roland Garros, just like I said they might, but instead I’m headed back to my room with divorce papers clasped in my hand.
She won’t sign them; I tell myself and I truly believe that. But there’s still a little voice in the back of my mind that says, She might.
Stepping off the elevator, I exhale a weighted breath and tug on the collar of my dark shirt.
I just got done filming an interview and I’m sure I sounded distracted, but that’s because I am.
I knew these papers were coming this afternoon and that, coupled with Ebba being sick and a little distant, has had me stressed to say the least.
I let myself into the suite and despite my stress I can’t help but smile when I find Ebba seated at the table with some sort of fold up mirror, applying her makeup.
She wears a silky pale pink dress, her curls loose and free.
Stunning. My wife—because I refuse to think of her as anything else unless she signs these papers—is fucking gorgeous.
She smiles when she sees me.
“You must be feeling better,” I say.
“I am. I thought maybe since you were already dressed up, we could go out to celebrate.”
“That sounds great.” Though, there won’t be much celebrating if she signs the papers and chooses to end this fully. She’s not going to do that. I keep telling myself that and yet my stress hasn’t lessened.
She giggles softly. “You’re not going to ask me what we’re celebrating?”
My brows furrow. “I assume your brother and Noah making it to the final.”
“No, silly.” She pushes her makeup bag out of her way. “We’re—”
“Hold on.” I raise my hand that’s not holding the papers. “Before you say anything, I need to get this off my chest.”
“Oh.” Her face falls, happiness replaced by worry. “What?”
I take a deep breath, but it does little to calm my nerves. “Our six months is up. A little past, actually,” I mumble.
She frowns. “Yeah, I know. I thought—”
I continue, undeterred, because if I don’t, I’ll never get this out. “These are for you.” I hand her the papers. “I signed them.”
Her face is ashen. “You what?”
“Fuck,” I curse, running my hands through my hair.
“I’m doing this all wrong, baby. Forgive me.
” Another deep breath and then I let loose the words.
“I want this to be your choice. I promised you a divorce if that’s what you wanted so that’s what I’m doing.
We can divorce and just date if that’s what you want.
Or if you want to end this and never see me again it’ll kill me, but I’ll respect your decision.
And if you want to stay married to me then we’ll tear those papers up right this second.
But I refuse to not give you the say in this matter that I promised you. ”
She looks down at the papers, shaking her head. “Fisher…”
“And if you want to stay married but have a big real wedding one day then I’ll give you that. Whatever you want, it’s yours, just like I always have been.”
She stands, laughing. “You ridiculous, silly man. I appreciate what you’re doing, I really do, but it’s not necessary. I love you. I want you. I choose you.”
“You want to stay married to me?”
She nods enthusiastically. “I’m not letting you go so easily this time. I’m pretty sure our baby wouldn’t want me to do that either.”
“Our…” I process her words. For a moment, I think she’s talking about Grace, but as tears pool in her eyes and she mouths, “Yes,” I realize she’s not talking about Grace but instead her sibling.
“I’m pregnant,” she clarifies. “Turns out it’s not the flu.”
I go slack-jawed as I stare at her. “Preg—you’re pregnant?”
“Apparently you’re really good at getting me pregnant when we’re not even trying.”
My hands go to her stomach and then I sink to my knees, wrapping my arms around Ebba’s body.
“Hi, baby,” I say into her stomach. “Daddy’s here.”
I tilt my head back and look up at her. “Grace is going to be a big sister?”
Tears burst out of her. “Yeah, she is.”
Standing, I wrap my arms around Ebba and swing her around.
“Whoa.” She taps my shoulder. “You better put me down unless you want me to throw up all over you.”
“Sorry.” I let her feet touch the floor and keep my hands on her flat tummy.
“I don’t just want to stay married because of the baby.” She puts her hand over mine. “I want to stay married because there’s no one else out there that I will ever love as much as I love you—no other man I want to call my husband. Just you.”
There aren’t the words to convey to her what it feels like to hear that. Instead, I cup her face in my hands and stare into her warm brown eyes.
“You’re it for me, baby. I knew it the moment I saw you all those years ago.”
“I love you, Fisher.”
I smile at those words. “I love you.”
And I’ll spend the rest of our lives loving this woman. My wife. Ebba is and always will be the easiest choice I’ve ever made.