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I can read between the lines of what they just said well enough. They have to pay for their classes, coursework that they could have finished ages ago if they could attend school full time instead of tackling their degree in dribs and drabs spread over years. The kids must have needed supplies and probably new clothes. And this is the time of year when their activity fees renew, if I’m correctly recalling the financial statements I have no business remembering years after handling their divorce.
“Is he paying the child support on time?” I ask, clenching my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for them. Angel looks like any scrap of comfort might break open the floodgates right now. I’m not prepared to hold myself at the essential emotional distance to avoid entanglements if I let them sob on my shoulder tonight. Much as part of me wants to be the friend they can cry to.
“Ha!” Angel scoffs at my question. “He hasn’t paid in a while, Saint. Quit his job at the bank and started working construction for cash under the table ages ago.”
Well, that at least I can help with. “That’s something you tell your lawyer about, Angel.”
“What lawyer? I can’t afford to pay you, Saint. And I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” I demand, unable to disguise my offense at the slight to my professional pride. “I thought you were happy with the terms I got you?”
Angel gives me a look like I’m missing something obvious and then gestures between us, naked in my bed. “Um, because I’m pretty sure you aren’t the sort of professional who sleeps with his clients? I know you don’t do relationships, but fuck buddies are still probably a conflict of interest? Or at least morally ambiguous.”
Oh. Right. That’s a solid point. Maybe I’m more than a bit addled when it comes to Angel. “I can still send a threatening letter on your behalf to get him to pay up.” I pout.
Angel kisses my cheek, then pats it.
“Don’t bother, can’t get blood from a stone. I did have a lawyerly question for you though. If that’s okay?”
They pick at the blankets.
“Go ahead.”
“Meg says she doesn’t want to go with Trevor on his weekends. Can she refuse, or will that cause problems?”
I shake my head, wishing I could give them the answer they want to hear. “It’s not up to her, unfortunately. She can tell him no if he’s alright with missing the time, or rescheduling, but if he wants to push the issue, he could make an alienation case against you.”
“Even though he’s way behind on his child support, skips most of his time anyway, and Meg is fourteen now?” Angel presses, though I suspect they already know the answer.
“Yeah. I wish I could tell you she gets to make her own decisions about where she spends her time, but as long as she’s a minor, it’s complicated. Unless her safety is a concern?”
Angel hesitates. “No. He wouldn’t actually hurt them.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Elaborate?”
Angel rolls their eyes. “He talks a lot of shit, but he wouldn’t physically harm the kids. Neglect at worst? And Meg has her phone to call me if she or Owen need anything while they’re with him.”
“Okay. Document when he misses his visits, so you have proof that you are making every effort to encourage a relationship with the kids. Just in case.”
“Yeah. I document everything with him. Even if he tells me verbally, I text him what we discussed afterward. Drives him nuts, but I learned my lesson from the trial.” Angel purses their lips.
“Good.” I kiss them. “You’re doing everything you can.”
“Thanks.” Angel sighs. “Damn, I feel like I should pay you for that.”
I snort. “Yeah, I bill all my friends for shit I could tell them in my sleep.”
They stick out their tongue at me. “Uh huh, and you sleep with all your friends, too, so they can just overhear all that sound legal advice you apparently dream about?”
“Obviously. Why do you think I have so many good friends?” I try to sound flippant about it, but it’s my turn to look away, because yeah, I kind of do sleep with most of my friends. In the sense that Carl is my closest friend and we still sometimes snuggle into bed when one or both of us needs that human connection. It’s not sexual with him—it goes so much deeper than that. A pure platonic love I treasure.
Angel isn’t the only friend with benefits to have shared my bed. And plenty of my other hookups have asked me for legal advice. Enough that I tend not to share my profession with one-offs anymore. That’s part of why I don’t mind helping Angel; they don’texpectme to give them my expertise as a perk of sleeping together.
“Thanks, Saint.”
“You’re welcome, darling.” I pat their hands. “I’m loathe to chase you out of my bed, but you should probably go before Owen wonders where you are.”
“Shit.” They glance at the clock and bite their lip. “Yeah. Next week?”
