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George tipped his hat. “Of course, ma’am.”
George was a middle-aged man, probably in his early fifties, and was one of the friendliest people that Henry kept on staff to tend to us and our estate. We had a whole security team, a horde of house cleaners, landscapers, and even our own event planner who’d drop everything to set up functions if Henry or I called on her. Most of the people in our employ were aloof and kept to themselves—I was sure that was Henry’s doing. He wanted me to feel as alone as possible. Anyone who was too chatty was quickly dismissed and replaced immediately. George was always kind but made sure to never ask too many questions that went beyond the border of his job description. But, as my driver, he knew more about my life than anyone else on staff.
However, as he was Henry’s hire, I knew that I couldn’t drop my guard and confide in him of my true whereabouts and plans. Which was why I’d selected an attorney that was conveniently located in the same office complex as my longtime doctor. That way, the visits could be chalked up to medical and would never raise an eyebrow. As far as I knew Henry didn’t even know I’d visited the doctor six times in the past three months. If he did, he hadn’t bothered to ask about my wellbeing.
But that was par for the course.
I pushed it all aside and poured my concentration into taking quick, confident strides into the main set of doors to the largest of the group of buildings, not looking back as George pulled away from the curb and drove off to wait for my text message when I was ready to be picked up again. Inside, a shiver crept up my spine, and it had nothing to do with the blast of air conditioning.
This is the right decision. The only decision, I reminded myself, looping the words through my mind like a cadence as I approached the elevators.
My doctor’s office was on the third floor. Dr. Honey. But I soared past the third floor, not stopping until I arrived on the twelfth floor. No one was in the corridor and I released a slow, shaky breath on my way to the frosted glass door with the silver placard to one side that read:
Matthew Hart
Attorney at Law
The sign didn’t specify the details of Matthew’s practice, but his name garnered recognition as one of the top-notch divorce attorneys in the area. Which is exactly what I’d need if I had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting away from Henry.
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Keefe,” Susie, Matthew’s receptionist, called out to me as I stepped inside the small office. Matthew was an excellent lawyer in a wealthy city but didn’t seem to be much for flash and sparkle. A trait that I appreciated. I’d had enough flash and sparkle to last me a lifetime.
“Hi, Susie. I’m a little early,” I said, stepping up to the smooth marble counter that concealed Susie’s desk.
She smiled up at me. “Not a problem. I’ll let Mr. Hart know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her and then made my way to one of two overstuffed chairs arranged on either side of a round coffee table. I ignored the magazines laid out along the top. I had no interest in celebrity scandals, gluten-free carrot muffin recipes, or the latest and greatest that the car world had to offer. Clearly, Mr. Hart’s clients fell into three succinct categories.
“Melissa.”
I snapped up at Matthew’s voice and stood from the chair that I’d been perched on. “Hello, Mr. Hart.”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Matt?”
I returned his smile and followed after him as he passed by Susie’s desk. He took me into his office and waved at one of the wingback chairs while he rounded the walnut desk that dominated the space and sat down behind it. A large manila envelope placed in the center of his desk caught my attention as I sank down into the offered seat. Matt caught my gaze and cleared his throat. “I know it’s difficult for you right now, but how are you feeling about everything?”
I brought my eyes back to Matt’s and drew in a slow breath, processing his question. It was simple enough in nature, but considering the circumstances, I struggled to find the right answer. There wasn’t a way to sum up the hell and chaos that had been ravaging my mind and body over the past weeks.
“It’s a lot…” he said softly. Matt was anything but the stereotypical divorce attorney. He saw me as a person, a bleeding heart, not just another client or cushy paycheck.
A flicker of a laugh escaped my lips. “Yes. It’s a lot. But I’m sure. I’m ready.”
