Chapter 9: Three Conditions

Caleb was waiting in the lobby at nine the next morning, with flowers.

I saw him through the elevator glass as I came down with Hazel.

He stood by the concierge desk in a clean gray suit, holding a bouquet of white roses so large it hid his chest.

Six people from the pack lived in this building. Four of them were in the lobby, pretending to check their mail.

"Joanna," he said.

"Caleb."

"You look well."

"I'm nine weeks pregnant and I slept ten hours. I look fine."

His mouth tightened.

"I've withdrawn the petition," he said. "I called the clerk at seven. I shouldn't have filed it. I was angry and I wasn't thinking."

"Thank you."

"Please come home."

I let the silence run until the people at the mailboxes stopped pretending.

"I have three conditions," I said.

Caleb's face brightened.

He thought he was winning.

"Anything."

"First. Poppy's pup gets a paternity test, run by the Council's own doctor, not yours. The result goes in the Council file."

"Of course."

"Second. You apologize to me and to the pack, on the pack channel, in your own voice. Not a statement from a lawyer. You."

His jaw worked.

"Third," I said. "You don't contact me. Not by text, not through the guards, not through your mother. You send everything through the Council."

"That's not a condition. That's a divorce."

"I signed that yesterday."

The roses trembled.

"Joanna, I made a mistake."

"You made a year of them."

Somebody at the mailboxes gasped quietly. Hazel shifted her weight beside me and said nothing.

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