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I detoured to a nearby bench and dialed.
“Kane Zegas.”
“Mr. Zegas, this is Marlow Linley.”
“I understand you’re in need of counsel.”
Thank God I was already sitting. Those words winded me with their weight.
“Yes.” I was surprised my voice sounded so emotionless.
“Can you come by my office?”
“Sure, but if you’ve got time, I’d like to talk now.”
“Of course,”
“This is confidential, right?”
“Naturally.”
“I’m pregnant by a man I’m not in a relationship with. He’s drafted an agreement of terms for how we’re to parent.”
“And those aren’t agreeable to you?”
Yes. No. I didn’t know. I was just furious about that stupid contract.
“It’s everything we discussed, but he had it on paper a day later,” I said, voice rising.
“So it isn’t the contents of the document, just the existence of it that troubles you.”
When he put it that way . . .
“I guess.”
“I’ll be happy to help you, but in my humble opinion, you don’t need it. If everything you want is spelled out, I’d suggest you cling to it.” He didn’t get it.
“He might have snuck something in there. I didn’t read all the way through it.”
“Send it over to me.”
“I—” I fiddled with a button on my coat. “I don’t have a copy.”
He was quiet a moment. “Can you obtain one?”
“I’d rather not speak to him.”
“Who is he? I’ll request one.”
I shifted on the bench. “Patrick Whitley.”
“Jesus.” He let out a long sigh. “The defense attorney?”
“That’s the one,” I said weakly.
“Mrs. Linley, what is it exactly that we’re trying to accomplish here? I’ll do as you wish, but again, if this document has everything you want in it, I’d take the deal. It will protect you and your child.”
What did I want? And why did this guy have to be so reasonable? I sure as hell wasn’t.
