Chapter 207
Leanne lay sprawled on her bed, staring at the ceiling. At this moment, it was impossible to remain indifferent.
It must have been because he brought up her mom. That’s why she felt like crying.
This was Leanne’s Achilles heel, a hurdle she just couldn’t get over.
Tears welled up in her eyes, unstoppable. She covered her eyes with the back of her hand. She was silent for several seconds, knowing that if she spoke, her choked-up voice would give her away.
But Curtis seemed to have a sixth sense about her, as if he’d installed surveillance in her place.
“Are you crying?”
Leanne sniffed quickly, trying to sound normal, “No.”
The man on the other end of the phone said nothing.
By now, Curtis had reached the front door of his apartment, turning the key in the lock.
The room was flooded with light, the warm air rushed to greet him, a stark contrast to the chilly world outside.
Hearing Leanne’s voice, softened by a nasal tone, tugged at something inside him.
He wanted to hold her.
After a long silence, Curtis, still holding onto the metal doorknob, let out a slow sigh, “Leanne, when you’re so down, I just want to drop everything and be there.”
“Don’t you dare! Thanks for dealing with the drama, but this doesn’t change anything. W keep things separate.” Leanne hung up the phone quickly, fearing that if she delayed evel a second longer, he might actually come e over.
Curtis removed the phone from his ear, glancing around the apartment.
Since returning home, he had spent most of his time in this apartment, its proximity to the office being a major draw.
But aside from the few hours of sleep, he rarely stayed here.
This place had all the trappings of a “home,” enough kitchenware to start a restaurant, yet he hadn’t cooked a single meal.
The minimalist decor screamed, “This home lacks a woman’s touch,” a cold and mocking testament to his situation.
Chapter 207
Yes, Curtis, scorned by his wife, felt even the double bed mocked him, suggesting it should be hosting two, not one.
Leanne tore off another page from her day-a-day calendar, for what felt like the umpteenth time in three days, announcing, “Christmas’s is almost here!”
Donna was getting impatient, “Yeah, yeah, we get it. Are you the town crier or something?” Then, turning to Leanne, “Leanne, that’s rough. On Christmas Eve, you’re stuck working. Can’t even enjoy a proper Christmas’ celebration.”
To Leanne, it was alright. Being on her own now, if she wasn’t working, she’d just be home and munching on frozen pizza by herself. Might as well enjoy the bustling atmosphere of the hospital.
Joy, despite the strained relationship with her family, still made the annual pilgrimage home for the holidays. It involved a train, a bus, and finally a rickety tricycle ride to a house that no longer felt like hers, all in the name of “family unity.”
But Leanne’s reminder brought another pressing issue to mind.
Leanne glanced at the calendar.
The grace period to finalize their divorce was dwindling to just a month, and each day. Curtis delayed felt like a missed opportunity. With the Christmas approaching, and the government offices closing, it would set them back at least another week.
So, she took the initiative and dialed Curtis’ number.
Curtis was in the middle of a meeting when he saw her call, his feelings a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
He was pleased Leanne had reached out first.
But knowing it likely wasn’t for pleasantries, Curtis still paused the meeting, suggesting five-minute break before stepping out to take the call.
He answered, pre-empting her with a bit of humor, “I’ve recently been diagnosed with a fragile heart. It shatters easily, so I suggest you tread lightly and say something I’d like to hear.”
Leanne wanted to roll her eyes at him, “You’re quite the handful.”
But she played along, “Would you like to hear English or French? Anyway, got plans tomorrow?”
72
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