“Our Brandy?” Misty asks as she looks across at Clay. He gives her a nod, and she scribbles it on her paper. “Are you divorced?”
“Yeah. He told me if I didn’t sign the papers and leave our home, he wouldn’t allow me to see the kids, not that it mattered because he stopped me anyway.”
She continues to scribble on the notepad, nodding her head.
“What reasons has he given for you not to have contact with the children?” she asks clearly, now in official mode.
“He claimed I’m an unfit mother, citing the use of drugs and alcohol, and that I was no longer capable of caring for my children. At the time, I didn’t have a job, nowhere to live,” I rush out, panicked that she’s going to pass judgement on me.
“Okay,” she says slowly, continuing to scribble notes before looking up at me. “I am sorry, but I have to ask, did you use drugs or alcohol?”
I shake my head, and she reaches her hand over again.
“Bella, he has a court order, so he must’ve had some kind of proof?” she asks, her eyes laced with sympathy. I continue to shake my head, and Clay rests his hand on the small of my back.
“I was sleeping on a park bench. He’d kicked me out. I had nothing.” I swipe angrily at the tears, reliving the trauma Liam had put me through.
“He sent his goons to take photos of me. I was asleep, and they’d placed empty bottles around me. I mean, I was taking sleeping pills. It was hard to sleep rough, you know?” I take amoment to look at Clay, and his jaw twitches angrily. “I can take any drug tests. Honestly, I’m more than happy if it means I see my children.”
“Good,” she says, continuing to take notes. “I can use that to offer the judge. And where are you currently living?”
“She’s here,” Clay interjects before I even get a chance to answer.
“Okay, this is good,” she says, smiling. “We have to prove with evidence that you have your life together, that you’re settled and can provide a safe space for the boys.”
“I’ll do anything,” I plead.
“It will look better to the judge if you’re married. You’ll be deemed as in a stable relationship.” She looks across at Clay, gauging his reaction.
“Done” is all he says, and I look between them.
“Wait, what?”
“Looks like we’re getting married, wifey,” Clay laughs as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and drags me closer to him. My eyes widen. I’d only just got used to being his ol’ lady in the eyes of the club, and now, we were to get married?
“Is there no other way?” I look across at Misty.
“Well, there is, but this would be the easiest way to show that you have your life in order. It would satisfy the judge, and we could move things along quickly.”
I look up at Clay, his eyes pleading with me not to close down again. I bite my bottom lip, deep in thought.
“Don’t overthink it, beaut,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down my arm.
“But—”
“Remember why we’re doing this,” he interrupts, and I contemplate the enormity of it.
I nod my head in defeat. I really would do anything to be able to hold my boys in my arms. “If you think it will work,” I whisper.
“Perfect. I’ll get Drifter to book the priest ASAP and get the ball rolling. Once we have the paperwork, I’ll submit the files to the judge,” she says, closing her notepad and placing her pen in her breast pocket. “We’ll have to attend court for his judgment, though, and you will have to face your ex-husband.”
She looks across at Clay sternly. “On your best fucking behaviour. You do not show me up in court.”
He puts his hands up. “You know me better than that, Misty. I take up my personal shit outside the courtroom.”
“Well, until she has those kids back home, it’s better to stay clear of any trouble. Do you hear me? Do not give him any ammunition,” she says, standing, placing her bag over her shoulder. I follow her lead and stand, offering my hand. She grabs it, leading me around the table and into her embrace.
“Welcome to the family,” she whispers, hugging me. “Good luck with that one,” she adds, releasing me and winking.
