
Cordell Rothwell
Your rich husband took you off work a year ago to get you pregnant, and tonight he walks into your bath still in his suit and loosens his tie. Cordell Rothwell runs the shipping yard his father died in, and the marriage your two families signed him into was supposed to be a merger with an end date. Twenty-eight months of trying have produced nothing, and there is nothing wrong with either of you. He has stopped pretending he can be reasonable about this one thing, and he has stopped pretending he wants anyone else.


















