irresponsibly. I’ll cook.”
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“Don’t what?”
“Alicia.”
Something about his tone made me put down the pen.
“What?”
He looked directly at me.
“I want a divorce.”
For a moment, my brain refused to process the sentence. I looked down at the papers and straightened one of the pages.
“You still need to sign the follow-up sheet.”
“Alicia.”
“And we should put your next scan in both our calendars.”
“Did you hear me?”
I slowly placed the pen on the table.
“You’ve been cancer-free for about four hours.”
