Page 52 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“She also would like her vehicle and the guest room set, also from World Market,” he goes on. “As well as the kitchen assets. Dishes, cookware, glassware. Anything not in Michael’s study, of course.”

“Of course,” I nod. “And the house?”

“Will be sold and equity split.”

I can literally feel Michael tensing at that. But there’s no way around that one, like it or not. Then, again, he speaks out of turn.

“There is one other thing…”

All of us look at him.

“I want the vacation home.”

Fuck.

“Are you kidding?” Ashley scoffs, looking at her lawyer.

My jaw clenches because I have to ask the question that is basically Grant Bowen’s first goal into an unguarded net.

“What vacation home?” I ask.

“I didn’t think to mention it. We bought it several years ago as an anniversary gift to ourselves and…I want it.”

“My client wishes to sell it,” Grant says. “Same as the main residence.”

“Well, I’m not budging on that,” Michael clicks his tongue, and I rest my gaze on him. It’s not a glare, but there is enough heat in it to melt the buttons on his shirt. “What? There was a storm that damaged the entire first floor. We won’t get half of what I bought it for, not without extensive remodeling. No. I’m not selling it.”

Alright. It’s a plot twist for sure, but nothing I can’t handle.

“This will change the splitting of the other assets, of course,” I say, “But I’m sure we can come to an agree–”

“Counseling,” Ashley blurts out, and we all stop. “I…want to go to marriage counseling,” she stutters before going on. “I never wanted this. I think…we could make it work…Michael. And I…want to try everything first. Starting with…marriage counseling.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?” Michael asks. And while he sounds mortified at the suggestion, his throat is tight.

Shit.

Ashley goes on. “If you agree to go to counseling with me, Michael, and don’t change your mind about wanting the divorce…the vacation home is yours. No questions asked. No altering the rest of our agreements.”

“Absolutely not–” Michael says, but I cut in.

“Hold it,” I say. Then I stand up. “My client and I request a two-minute recess.”

Grant answers by casually waving a hand.

I walk out, and Michael follows me. This time I am smarter about the location of our conversation and walk until I know we are out of earshot.

“What the hell are you–” he starts in, but I turn around and cut him off.

“Listen to me,” I boom. “You will never get the vacation home in the trial. No judge will grant you that, and everything else you think you’re entitled to. Not without me lying to the judge’s face about the integrity of your wife.”

“You’re a lawyer,” he snorts. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“That woman is too fucking good for you,” I snap, and his jaw unhinges before a glare builds up like fire in a dragon’s throat. Except that Michael Overholt is not a dragon. He’s a small man with a big ego. “And the judge is going to see that. The only way we are going to win this is by compromising where it doesn’t matter and focusing on what does. You’ll get the equity, less, but still equity. You’ll get all your Ethan Allen shit. You’ll get your vacation home. And you’ll get your divorce. But if you want any of that, you’ll go to therapy. One month. Eight sessions. No buts.”

“I hate this,” he mutters.

“This is divorce court,” I tell him with a smirk.