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I laugh, and we hug. I say, “Every penny she’s worth.”

Laura asks. “Stop. Let’s be civil.”

“Cool. That will be new,” Teddy bites back, and it’s not directed at me.

Laura crosses her arms and sits back in her chair like she’s above rolling in the mud.

“I apologize for my client.” I rest my hand on my lawyer's arm.

“Hold on, I have one more.” She rolls her eyes. “What are you going to do now? You know, that your M.R.S. degree is getting revoked.”

Laura half smiles and says, “First order of business, getting me out from under your black sheep cloud.”

I lean over the table and hold up my hand. “Good one. Up top.” She lightly slaps my hand and smiles. Everyone laughs, and so far, this is my favorite divorce. Of course, she’s about to find out I’m not budging on the offer.

Her attorney slides us a thick-ass folder. “Artwork. There’s a blue circle by the pieces that Laura will be taking.”

I sputter out a huge laugh. She’s not taking anything.

Gavin flips through the pages. He’s aware I’m immovable on this point. He closes the proposal, and everyone waits. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this document.”

“Thank you,” her lawyer says.

“Nope.” Is all I have to say here.

“No to what?” Laura leans forward and stares at me. And I answer her instead of my lawyer.

“There’s no more, Laura. The prenup clearly states our individual assets before marriage with the exception of the outlaid jewelry, presents, and the Catskills house, remain. Basically, dance with the one who brung ya. And really? You fucking think you get to take four Hayden Corelli pieces? He’s my best friend. That’s insanity. The art was all purchased before you said ‘I do,’ which means, you don’t. Get it, that is.”

Laura slams the table. “You bought the Mistral and the Brancusi while we were dating.”

“And I had a standing bid at Christie’s for those two pieces for the last six years, waiting for them to come to auction. That means they superseded you, baby.”

Teddy speaks, “Don’t call her baby.” Her lawyer pats Laura’s hand. So, I pat Gavin’s as he attempts not to laugh.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, but your greed knows no bounds. Raid your parents’ art collection. It’s vast, impressive, and enviable, but mine is off limits. This is insane, right? You loved me for what? Six months?” She winces like she’s all of a sudden found her humanity. She’s a stranger now. “What makes you think because we shared a bed for almost three years that you’re entitled to the equivalent of a Powerball lottery ticket?”

“Stop,” Gavin chides.

Laura states, “I’m looking for a fair and equitable settlement and over the past three years things have changed and I require more than is in the agreement.”

Her lawyer slides super-legal-looking paper over to us. I sit back in my chair and rock it on its hind legs.

Gavin questions, “You’re petitioning the court to get the prenup overturned?”

Then her pinhead clarifies, “We’ll be seeking all the requested artwork, furniture, Ladd Enterprise stock, a staked partnership in Ladd Media, the smaller Martha’s Vineyard house, and an additional sum of $125 million dollars.”

The only thing I zero in on is that she wants in on the business. Hello, that’s totally her father. Her parents are making a power grab through her divorce, and I’m starting to feel like a mark.

I laugh at what a fool she is. She just woke every bad instinct I’ve been tamping down. She may succeed in getting the prenup dissolved, but she’ll never get any of those things. In fact, I’ll make sure she gets less than the original payout.

“I’ll rip up the prenup on one fucking condition.” Everyone talks over each other.

Her lawyer yells over the din, “Laura is in no position to—”

She stands up. “What condition?” Laura blurts out and silences the room. I want out. I want Mak, and that can’t happen if I’m tied to her. I stand up and face her across the table and put my hand on Gavin’s shoulder to keep him in his seat.

“You sign a piece of paper right now that says we’re no longer married. We save the financial shit for an open battle. But we file jointly today. And then in three months we’re free of each other. Except for your hand in my pocket, but again, let’s fight that out another day. Today, let’s cut the ties that bind.”