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My hand reaches out and falls uselessly back to my side. She’s still an employee, even if I’ve known her since we were kids. “A lot of shitty things happen because your ex is a fuckingasshole. I don’t understand how you could have married him in the first place.”
She wipes her eyes again. “The fairy tale,” she says grimly, her voice slightly hoarse. “That’s why I married him.”
“What fairy tale?”
She hitches a shoulder. “Thefairy tale. You know—you meet someone and it just feels meant to be, then the two of you get married and take your carload of children to Disney every summer and live happily ever after.”
“Interestingly, your idea of the fairy tale sounds like my idea of hell.”
That wins me a laugh.
“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” I ask.
She grins. “Apparently you’ll be right there when it happens, so you’ll definitely be the first to know.”
I wish to God she’d tell me how I could help. And it would really be better if it was help I could offer from far, far away.
I made excuses to get out of meeting my friends at Beck’s bar but decide to go after all. I wait until Liam’s walked off and Beck’s gone to refill our pitcher before I lean toward Harrison. “Hey, you do some family law, right? Like, you could handle a complicated divorce?”
He sets his glass down. “I thought I’d made that clear during the one million times I tried to get you to file for divorce, but I doubt yours will be that complicated.”
“It’s not me. It’s my neighbor.” I look around once more. The less Liam and Beck know about this conversation, the better. “She’s got kids and her ex is a dick. You should hear the shit he says to her. Anyway, she’s in a bad spot right now, financially. I was thinking you could tell her you were taking the case pro bono and send the bills to me.”
His eyes widen. “You like this girl so much you’d pay for her divorce?”
“I don’tlikeher. I’m just trying to help her out.”
Harrison lifts his glass and drains it. “Caleb, I’ll take it for free if it means that much to you. But do me a favor and ask yourselfwhyit means so much to you, because what you’re doing isn’t sustainable.”
I regret ever broaching the topic. “And what is it I’m doing?”
“Remaining alone on the off chance Kate returns. It was never going to work, but with this girl living next door and you refusing to admit you’re borderline obsessed with her—”
My mouth opens to object and he holds out a hand to silence me.
“Whether it’s with her or someone else, you’re going to slip up eventually—and no matter what Kate’s done, I don’t think that’s the guy you want to be. File so you’ve got a clear conscience when it happens.”
I roll my eyes, but I think about what he said the whole way home. Am I going to slip? I thought I was fine, until Lucie entered the picture. It can’t be with her, but the amount of time I spend fantasizing about it probably indicates that Harrison is right.
I never cheated on Kate, and that’s pretty much the only way Iwasn’ta shitty husband. I’d like to hold on to that, if nothing else.
12
LUCIE
Iarrive at the lawyer’s office fifteen minutes early on Monday morning, fielding texts from Jeremy while I wait for the meeting to begin.
JEREMY
You want me to drop off your old maternity clothes? Based on your current weight, it looks like you’re definitely going to need something bigger.
Heard you’re putting on a show every morning at school drop-off, by the way. Good luck with that. None of those guys would touch you with a ten-foot pole.
I haven’t gained weight. I’m not putting on a show. But, Jesus, I hate the fact that what he says even has me questioning if it’s true. I hate that it’s so easy for him to make me feel inferior, and it says more about me than him that he succeeds.
An hour later, Darryl Fessman, Esquire, shows up—all smiles and bluster and apologies—and leads me back to his office, where he proceeds to blather about the weather and ask how the kids are handling the divorce before he finally tells mehe requires ten grand upfront—because apparently normal people are supposed to just have that much money burning a hole in their pocket. I didn’t have itbeforeJeremy emptied my checking account.
The money worries me, but the picture he offers of my future is slightly better than the one I’ve been envisioning. He insists I’ll get enough interim support to live off of and that, as primary caregiver, I’ll be given possession of the house for two years. I shudder at the idea of moving back into the McMansion Jeremy’s so proud of and shudder more at the idea oftellinghim I’m taking the house, but this isn’t the time to start cowering.
