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“Would it help?” I ask, unable to look her in the eyes. “If I were in a relationship with Brent, would it help?”
“I would never suggest that anyone start a relationship with anyone they didn’t genuinely like just to make things look good in court.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I counter.
She sighs. “A stable relationship always looks better.”
The look on her face makes me believe she thinks that it’s complete bullshit for it to be that way, but I understand it. I spent countless hours talking myself out of leaving Travis because I was trapped under the thought that even though he wasn’t around often, it was better than never being around for his son.
“I don’t think I’m built for stable relationships,” I mutter.
Shame heats my cheeks. As much as I wish she would call me out on it, I know she can’t, so I speak before she has the chance to ask.
“I mentioned Ryder in my sleep the other night, and when Brent asked me who he was, I lied and told him my dog that died.” A guilty sob escapes my throat. “I told him my son was a dead dog.”
Soft, warm hands cover mine, unconcerned with the balled-up tissue in them.
“I see a lot of cases. Sometimes I’m hired by the court to represent children because they don’t have a parent who is capable of caring for them. You love your son. Should you have left sooner? Of course. You know that. I’m not going to beat you up for that. Could you have predicted that your mom would hand Ryder over to Travis? Maybe, but I also know that you can’t live a life filled with what-ifs. I have no doubt that you’re doing your absolute best for Ryder, but there’s no harm in accepting a little help every now and then either.”
I nod, knowing exactly what she’s saying because when I asked how much her retainer is, trying to determine whether I could even remotely afford her, she told me her expenses were pro bono. I opened my mouth to argue, but I was in no position to turn down her help. Swallowing my pride has been something I’ve been doing a lot lately, considering I’m living in a house with a man I barely know because I have nowhere else to go.
“We didn’t—I mean Brent and I, we didn’t—I was upset and he was just there to comfort me. I don’t want you to think—”
“I think you’re a grown woman, and you don’t have to explain that kind of thing to me. Even if you aren’t in a relationship with Bishop, you now have a support system that has a very high standing with the community.”
“Cerberus.”
She nods. “Kincaid has the ability to open a lot of doors. If the man believes that Ryder belongs with you, then that’s what we’ll make happen.”
“Any advice on what to tell Brent?”
She scrunches her nose. “I’d suggest the truth, but understand I don’t know him well. Cerberus members are sort of known for being the best of the best, and I don’t think he’d hold that lie against you.”
“He doesn’t even remember being Cerberus,” I argue.
She shakes her head. “He’s still the man he was before he lost his memories.”
She continues to ask questions and helps me with the answers to the ones I’m not certain of. She reminds me more than once that Mrs. Brunello is one of the better caseworkers, but just like every other place in local, state, and national government, they’re overworked and underpaid. Mistakes happen, and asking the court for grace in the mistakes I’ve made too has a flip side, meaning I need to offer grace to those that have made mistakes as well.
I leave her office, feeling a little more hopeful about things to come, but it only lasts as far as the driveway to the house I’ve been staying at with Brent.
Mrs. Brunello apologizes profusely on the phone about forgetting to call about the supervised visitation I missed yesterday.
“Can I see him today?”
“He has a routine they like to keep to,” she answers.
“Tomorrow then?”
“I have a busy schedule, and I won’t be able to bring him with me when I come for the home evaluation.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your home evaluation? It’s scheduled for tomorrow at three thirty.”
Silence fills the line.
“Oh, dear. I’m getting the impression you don’t know about that either? Will it be a problem, Ms. Golding?”
“Holt,” I correct. “I never married Travis. That will be fine.”
She confirms the address before ending the call.
I know Brent has a doctor appointment tomorrow afternoon, and I’m hoping I can get Mrs. Brunello in and out as quickly as possible before he gets back. Honestly, I’m not ready to tell the truth and have all of this crashing down around me.
It also makes me wonder with how unorganized everything is if they’d actually bring the right kid for visitation.
