{ retrospective } the finger on the trigger and your expensive clothes
If God still paid him any heed, he must have been laughing. They might've made a picturesque little family - beautiful new mother at rest, first time father standing by with newborn daughter in his arms - if it weren't for the legal documents on the table, Martel's dangerously edged tension and Lillias's pouty, sullen displeasure. Their brief relationship had been spectacularly explosive - even by her standards - but the tiresome bully was unwilling to part amicably or even in the kind of melodrama she could appreciate.
Still, it was worth a shot.
"You're a callous bastard," she declared, leaning on her elbow and wishing she'd had time to brush her hair before he arrived, "breaking my heart this way and taking away my baby-" Inga started to fuss in Martel's arms when his grip tightened on Lillias's possessive.
"Lillias," somehow she didn't trust the too-calm tone he was using, "you have all the maternal instinct of something that eats its own young. In three or four more weeks I'm sure you'll waste no time finding someone else to mend your broken heart. And if you don't sign the fucking papers, I am going to lose my patience with you."
"Oh, you wouldn't hit a woman," she reminded him - adding, with a sigh, "not even when I asked nicely." His bored disdain had to have been affectation - she could see his fist clenching reflexively on Inga's back - but it still stung. "Why are you being so unkind about this, Martel? Wasn't I lovely to you?"
"Yes, of course, and to George Bicknell, and Nathan Baker, and I did wonder about Alyssa Dreyfuss but I assume even you must have standards-"
"I made mistakes, my dear - my most dear - I know that I have, and I have hurt you, and I should be beaten for it - but you know that I love you, Martel, of course I do! Only you are away so much, and I become so lonely! Without your strength to guide me, I am so weak-willed-"
Martel checked his watch. Lillias sulked, and gave in.