Page 13 of My All American Girl

6

DEAN

It was the moment I had both been looking forward to and dreading for months. I was ready to close this chapter of my life.

I parked my truck and followed the signs to the right court. My attorney was on the phone. He was pacing back and forth, clearly involved in a serious conversation. I was so glad I wasn’t the guy on the other end. I had been there, done that. All of the fighting and negotiating were finished.

People always said there weren’t any winners in divorce. I begged to differ. Margaret sure as hell made out pretty well. My attorney spotted me and held up a finger. I scanned the hallway and Margaret strolled toward us wearing a red dress and a satisfied smile.

“Dean.” She nodded.

“Margaret.”

“Are you happy now?” she asked.

“About?”

“Being free?” she replied.

I shrugged. “Whatever, Margaret. We’re here to get this thing done. It doesn’t matter.”

She didn’t like my answer. I knew what she was looking for. She wanted to fight and argue. I didn’t have it in me.

“You are so lucky I didn’t take more,” she hissed. “My lawyer told me I could have gotten more.”

I rolled my eyes. “You got the house, your car, and half my assets. What else do you want?”

Her lip curled with disgust. “If I could take your career, I would.”

“Sorry you weren’t able to completely destroy my life, despite your best efforts.” I shrugged. “But I think you made out like a bandit. You came into the marriage with a suitcase and you’re leaving with a house and a new car. I honestly can’t imagine what else you could want from me.”

“My dignity,” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “I lost that the moment I married you.”

“That’s enough,” my lawyer interrupted, finally off the phone. His gaze flicked between us. “Save it for the courtroom if you must, but I’d advise both of you to keep quiet. The judge doesn’t want to hear your quarreling.”

Margaret huffed indignantly but didn’t say anything more. We were ushered into the court and took our seats in the wooden benches. The room was silent except for the shuffling of papers and muted conversations of lawyers.

We waited until our case was called. Neither of us had to say anything. It was crazy to think my marriage was over and done with a stamp.

I exited the courtroom, my chest strangely empty. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Relief? Regret? Resignation? Maybe a mixture of all three.

Margaret sneered. “Too bad you couldn’t divorce your job, then maybe you would still have me.”

“My job bought you that house you live in,” I reminded her.

“You were married to your career the whole time we were together,” she accused, her voice dripping with scorn. “I deserve more than this.”

I wanted to argue, to defend myself against her accusations, but I found myself unable to muster the energy. The truth was, she was right. My career had always come first, leaving little room for anything else, least of all our marriage. Maybe if I loved her more than the skies, we could have been happy.

“What else do you want?” I asked with a sigh.

“I knew you were a mistake,” she hissed. “My father warned me. He told me marrying a pilot was a bad idea.”

“I guess you should have listened to him,” I said.

“You were such a mistake!”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. I have to go. Have a nice life, Margaret.”