“Let’s start the process,” he continues. “I want this moving as fast as possible.”
“Of course,” she says. “Once that’s filed, they will need to file their paperwork to contest, and then we’ll go from there. You will have to come back down so we can meet with their attorney and them. You never know; once they talk to you, they may change their mind.”
“I need to give them stability,” Saint adds. “And the other thing I don’t understand is, how can they afford to do this? Certainly, they aren’t expecting me to pay for their legal fees too.”
“We haven’t gotten that far. I was just informed yesterday by their attorney.”
“This is bullshit,” he says, standing.
I reach for his arm, but he pulls away.
He walks over to the window and runs a hand through his hair.
I don’t get up. I just watch him. My heart is breaking for him. He’s trying to deal with his own grief and getting everythingready with the kids. I understand, in a way, why they’re doing it, but it would have been so much easier if they had discussed it with him first.
He sighs and hangs his head. “Let’s get this over with. Give me whatever you need me to sign today.”
He walks back over to the desk and sits, jaw set.
“I know this is upsetting, Mr. Saint Clair, but it is their legal right to do this,” she explains as she pulls out some papers from the file.
He just nods and leans forward in his chair.
I place a hand on his back. “It’ll be okay, Saint.”
He doesn’t respond.
“I’ve marked all the places I need your initials as well as your signature,” she says, handing him a pen.
He scribbles his name on each page like he’s signing an autograph.
“Does this mean we have to stay in town until this is done?” I ask.
“What day were you planning to leave?”
“We were planning to go back this weekend,” I reply.
“Let me see what I can do to get the temporary guardianship approved, so you can leave.” She takes the pen from Saint’s outstretched hand. “I’ll get this couriered over to the courthouse and contact the judge’s clerk today to see if we can push it through.”
Saint stays silent.
“Okay, that would be great, thank you,” I answer for him.
An idea floats through my head about reviewing the case with our family attorneys to see if they can offer any additional advice. But I don’t want to overstep, so I’ll discuss it with him later.
Saint stands. “Is that all you need from me today, then?”
She also stands and closes the folder. “That’s it for now. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something to share with you.”
Saint reaches his hand out and shakes her hand.
I do the same, then turn and walk out, and Saint follows.
He stays silent until we get in the waiting car my dad had gotten for us while we’re here.
“Motherfucker!” he yells, slamming a fist into the seat in front of him.
I turn my body toward his. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t take that home. Let’s take a minute to let it absorb so you can think clearly and rationally.”
