CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The drive home was slow and quiet. Maureen positioned herself to the mirror snorting, crying and once, releasing a throaty laughter. It was filled with pain and an untold thirst for revenge. Dominic held tightly to the steering wheel while pages of memory flipped in his somewhat distant memory- the memory filled with youthful lusts and mistakes.

Beatrice had held him close to herself, her swollen abdomen hitting his trunk in a close affection.

"You can't leave me, I'm pregnant with your child," she said. He tried to look away and his eyes stuck to an old picture frame.

"Abort the baby," he replied. He had gently pulled her hands apart as they locked over his neck.

"What? No!"

"You know I'm married," he said defensively.