by Sydney Logan
She looks the same.
She looks different.
It’s a very fine line.
My stomach clenches in dread as I make my way to the bar. Marcus warned me about talking to her without our attorneys present, but I want to try to keep this civil. The last thing I need is a long, drawn out custody battle. That’ll only delay the divorce, and it’s been delayed long enough.
This meeting with my wife has to go well, and that all depends on me. Me, and my ability to finesse. To compromise. To make concessions and agree to whatever she wants in order to put an end to this sham of a marriage.
That’s why we’re here—in this bar—and not in an attorney’s office.
Just like she wanted.
“You’re late,” she says.
I sit down at the bar. “My apologies. Traffic.”
That’s a lie. I was purposely late. While the lawyer in me wants to keep things civil, the deserted husband couldn’t resist toying with her perfectionist tendencies. Being late had always been a pet peeve.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.
“Scotch. Neat.”
Natasha arches an eyebrow. “Rough day?”
“Not at all.”
I give her a smile, and I watch as her face flushes.
She always loved my smile.
The bartender brings my drink. I down it.
“I’ll be honest,” she says. “I expected to see your shadow.”
“My shadow?”
“Marcus. I know he didn’t want us to meet like this.”
“I bet your lawyer didn’t, either.”
She nods. “Still, you usually do whatever he says.”
“Marcus doesn’t control me, Tash. Nobody controls me anymore.”
She laughs darkly. “Is that so?”
“That’s right.”
Natasha reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone.
“I doubt that,” she says, scrolling through her pictures and shoving the phone in my face.
It’s the picture of me and Olivia at the gala.
And in that moment, it all makes sense.
After more than six months of zero contact, my child’s mother has come out of hiding, and not because she missed her son. She’s here now, because she suddenly has competition.
“Who is she, Jackson?”
I peer at the phone. “Well, the caption says her name is Olivia Stuart.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Do you honestly believe that I owe you any kind of explanation?”
“I have every right to know who’s spending time with my son.”
“Really? Because I think you relinquished that right the day you left him.”
Just then, the bartender arrives with another martini and scotch. I ignore mine. Natasha quickly reaches for hers. I notice her fingers tremble as she wraps them around the glass.
“Who is she, Jackson?”
“That’s none of your business. Again, you relinquished the right to know anything the day you left—”
“I GET IT!”
Every head in the place turns our way. The bartender’s face pales as he quickly walks away.
“Don’t shout, Natasha. You’ll make a scene.”
My voice is patient and soft. I know it infuriates her.
“What do you want, Tash? Why did you call our son? Do you have any idea how much you upset him?”
“I want to know who she is.”
“And I’ve told you that’s none of your business.”
Her eyes flash fire. I know she’s close to her boiling point, but I am determined to remain cool and calm.
Natasha tilts her head.
“You’re different,” she says.
“I am.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
She scrutinizes my face. “You’ve never talked to me this way.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve always given her everything she’s ever wanted. Told her anything she wanted to hear. All in a blind attempt to keep her temper at bay and to keep our marriage intact.
Those days are over.
“You’re right. I never did. But I should have. I could’ve saved our son a lot of heartache.”
Her finger trails along the rim of her glass as she gazes at her drink.
“How is he?”
“He was doing great until you called.”
Natasha sighs. “I was trying to reach you. I expected Hazel to answer. If I’d known Ryder would . . .”
Her voice trails off, and I notice the ache there. Maybe she does have a heart, after all.
“Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“I don’t know. I guess because it was Sunday, and I expected you to be home. But I do apologize. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. I disconnected the phone.”
She nods.
“Ryder had such a rough time after you left. We were just beginning to make progress—”
“WE? As in you and Olivia Stuart?”
The way she says Olivia’s name grates on my nerves.
“Do not say her name like that. Olivia has been a better mother to him than you’ve been his entire life.”
Her eyes spark with jealousy. “Don’t tell me that tramp is playing mommy to my kid.”
“Somebody had to. You left him!” I grit my teeth as my patience finally snaps. “And then, when our lives are just starting to get back to normal, you call my house? And you don’t call because you miss your son. You call because you see a picture of me with another woman! A woman who is patient, and kind, and loving, and has brought me and my son back to life again.”
Natasha glares.
“You’re sleeping with her.”
I shake my head and reach for the scotch. That’s all she’s worried about. She doesn’t care about her son. All she cares about is that there’s another woman in my life.
“You know, Jackson, adultery won’t please the judge.”
It’s not adultery. But that’s none of her business.
“Speaking of adultery, how is David Nichols these days?” I ask.
Her face flashes with fear when she realizes her mistake.
“Oh, yes, I know all about it. I know about the house he bought you in Green Hills. I personally don’t care who you are or aren’t sleeping with, but I bet the judge cares. I also think the judge will be very interested in the fact that Olivia is a kind, sweet, wonderful woman who was hired as Ryder’s nanny because his own mother couldn’t be bothered to stick around. So, don’t mess with me, Natasha. Stop dragging your feet and grant me a divorce so that we can all move on with our lives.”
I’m stunned to see a lone tear trickle down her cheek. I study her face, trying desperately to find a trace of the girl I thought I loved. I look at her now, and I feel nothing. Even her big brown eyes—eyes I once loved—now seem so distant and cold, and such a contrast to Olivia’s lovely, warm green eyes that radiate with emotion.
“Tell me about her,” Natasha says softly.
“No. Not until we talk about our son.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says. “We both know he’s better off without me.”
I don’t disagree, but I have enough manners not to say it aloud. Instead, I tell her about the last six months. The tantrums. The screams. The parade of nannies. The tears. The nightmares. And Dr. Jane.
Then, I tell her about Olivia, and what a difference she’s made in our lives.
I hold nothing back, and by the time I’m finished, Natasha is sobbing.
Feeling sympathetic, and a little responsible, I hand her a cocktail napkin to dry her eyes.
“Your face lights up when you talk about her,” Natasha says softly. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“Would that bother you?”
“A little. But I know I have no right to be jealous.”
“You’re right. You don’t.”
She sniffles quietly.
“Did you ever love me?”
I consider my answer. I honestly thought I did. Back when I was young and stupid, I thought this woman would make me happy for the rest of my life. She was gorgeous . . . on the outside. And when you’re young and stupid, sometimes that’s all that matters. You don’t think much about the future. You don’t wonder if this woman is truly your soulmate. If this woman will be a good wife. A good mother.
Then I think about Olivia, and the way she loves my son. That’s the kind of woman to whom you promise your heart. That’s the kind of woman to whom you devote your life.
Jackson Healey has finally grown up.
But I don’t say that. This is my son’s mother. Despite the agony she’s put us through, I don’t want to hurt her. Not really. I just want to be done.
“I thought I loved you,” I admit quietly. “But I think we both know that our marriage was a mistake. You were controlling. I was a doormat. And the conflicting extremes destroyed us. But we have to make sure it doesn’t destroy our son.”
Natasha grows thoughtful. “Despite what you think—and my actions—I do love our son.”
“I believe that.” And I do. Because I can’t imagine any mother not loving her child. “I believe you loved him the only way you knew how. And I’m not without my faults, Tash. I made a lot of mistakes. I worked too much. I neglected you and our son. And I apologize for that. I really do. I’m trying to be better.”
“Better for her?”
“Better for our son. I’m home in time for dinner most nights. I’m home on the weekends. I don’t hide in my study unless Ryder’s asleep. We play. We color. We eat ice cream. We read. You should hear him read, Tash. He’s so smart.”
She smiles. “Is he still studying French?”
“No. Sorry about that. I know that was important to you.”
“It was silly. He’s just five.”
“They say that’s the best time to learn a new language. But we needed to work on some other things.”
“Like how to be a kid, and not a robot,” she says quietly.
I nod, because it’s the truth.
“I’m sorry if my call upset him. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I believe that. And I don’t mind you calling him. But we need to work out a schedule, and I need to be on the call. He’s very confused right now, Tash. I won’t let you derail all the progress he’s made.”
“I understand.” Natasha’s eyes flicker to the picture on the phone again. “She really is lovely, Jackson.”
“Yes.”
“And she’s not just the nanny.”
“She is. For now.”
“But you want more.”
I sigh heavily. “Natasha, I really think we should keep the conversation focused on Ryder.”
She frowns. “You’re so protective of her.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I see.” She tosses a twenty on the bar and stands up quickly. “I should go. I think I need to talk to my lawyer.”
I’m momentarily stunned by the change in her mood.
“And why’s that?”
“Because I have issues with this woman—as wonderful as she may be—playing mother to my child.”
I close my eyes.
“Natasha, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“I will be filing for full custody. Ryder is my child. And your sweet, angelic Olivia will have to be content with the fact that she will always just be the nanny.”
Full custody? What?
I reach for her arm. “Natasha, wait!”
“Get your hands off me!”
Not wanting to cause a scene, I quickly let her go, and I watch through blurry eyes as she stalks out of the bar.
“Let me get this straight. You aren’t sleeping with this girl?” Marcus asked.
“I’ve told you no.” My voice is a growl as I type furiously on my laptop. We’ve spent the last hour in my study, dissecting this case from every possible angle.
“No judge is going to believe that, Jackson. I’m your attorney, and I don’t believe it.”
“Then maybe I need to find a new attorney.”
He rolls his eyes and pours himself a drink.
“Can I at least ask why you aren’t sleeping with her?”
“Because I’m a married man.”
“And that bothers you?”
“No, but it bothers her.”
“Oh.” His face brightens. “Well, the judge will love that. A woman with morals taking the place of a wife and mother who had no problem deserting her son and shacking up with David Nichols.”
“I don’t want Olivia involved in this.”
Marcus laughs. “Jackson, you’re an attorney. Surely you realize there’s no way she’s not going to be involved in this. She lives in this house. Your picture was online and in the newspaper. No matter what you say, Natasha’s lawyer is going to accuse you of adultery. He’d be crazy not to. It suddenly makes this a fair fight.”
I tiredly rub my face. “Marcus, do I need to remind you that Natasha left me? Packed her bags and left me and my son behind and jumped straight into David Nichols’ bed?”
“So . . . the two adulteries will cancel each other out? Sin for a sin?”
“But I’m not committing adultery!”
“And that’s a shame because Olivia is . . .” his voice trails off when he sees the furious expression on my face. “Fine. You’re not committing adultery. I’m just saying that you need to prepare yourself. Natasha is going to make sure that Olivia is the focus of this custody dispute.”
“Prepare myself how?”
“We can’t give Natasha’s attorney any ammunition. And right now, that ammunition is sleeping in her own bedroom, just down the hallway.”
“Right. So?”
Marcus frowns. “Think, Jackson.”
His eyes bore into mine.
“No.”
“Jackson, she has to move out.”
“Absolutely not!”
Marcus sighs heavily.
“No. I won’t touch her, but she is not moving out. She’s too important to my son.”
“Jackson, it’s the only thing Natasha can use against you. The only thing. She is blind with jealousy. That woman wants to take your son away from you.”
“SHE left US!”
“And now she has competition.”
“There is no competition.”
“Maybe not to you, but in Natasha’s eyes, you have a new girlfriend. Ryder has a new mommy. And the gloves are coming off.” Marcus snaps his briefcase and heads for the door. “Call me when you come to your senses so we can talk strategy.”
As he walks out of my study, I hear him whisper something. A second later, Olivia’s standing in the doorway. Her face is ashen, but her expression is one of quiet determination.
She heard every word.
“No, Olivia.”
“Jackson, he’s right.”
“No, he isn’t. We aren’t doing anything wrong. We’ll figure it out.”
“How? I’m not a lawyer, but how do you prove that we’re not having an affair? When it’s so easy to assume that we are?”
I have no answer for that. All I know is that I can’t let her walk out of my son’s life.
Or mine.
I try to ignore the panic that rises in my chest at the thought of her leaving. I had watched Natasha walk out the door, and that hadn’t bothered me in the least.
Olivia, on the other hand . . .
“You’re not moving out.”
She smiles sadly before turning around and walking away.
Because Marcus was determined to keep his job, he somehow talked Natasha’s lawyer into mediation. No judge. No lawyers. Just the two of us with a middleman, trying to compromise and come to an agreement that would make everyone happy. But when Natasha made it clear at the meeting that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than full custody—and that she wanted to take my child home with her in the meantime�
��mediation fell apart very quickly.
So here we sit, two weeks later, awaiting a judge’s decision regarding my son’s future.
Looking across the aisle, I take a long, hard look at my wife, with her flawless makeup and not a hair out of place. She’s dressed conservatively but elegantly. She seems apologetic. Sympathetic. She’d even cried a little.
Her lawyer had coached her well.
I can’t help but notice that Natasha is here alone, with just her attorney by her side. The new boyfriend’s nowhere to be found. Of course, I’m alone, as well, but only because Marcus and I agreed that it would probably be detrimental to the proceedings to have the mother and the nanny in the same room, considering the nanny wants to scratch the mom’s eyes out of their sockets.
David Nichols is a no-show because he doesn’t care.
Olivia isn’t here because she cares too much.
Big difference.
Important difference.
At least, I hope the judge thinks so.
I reach for the glass of water on the table and glare at my attorney.
“What’s taking so long?”
“He’s examining all the evidence, Jackson. You know this.”
“She’s lucky that I’m offering supervised visits.”
“I agree.”
“She can see him every day if she wants, but those visits will be supervised by me.”
“Right.”
“Or Hazel.”
“Yes.”
“Or Olivia.”
Marcus winces. We’d already argued about this, but I’m standing firm. Olivia is Ryder’s nanny. Dr. Jane and Ryder’s teacher had both written letters of support, detailing how instrumental Olivia has been in Ryder’s progress. If Olivia wants to be there during the supervised visits, then I believe she should be.
I just hope the judge agrees.
Suddenly, the chamber doors open, and the judge makes his way back into the courtroom. We rise and take our seats again as he begins to speak.
“I’m deeply saddened that the custody situation could not be resolved during mediation,” he says. “That doesn’t bode well for the divorce proceedings. However, before we can even begin to discuss the divorce, we must address the well-being of the child.”
The judge looks at Natasha. And then at me.
“I have a mother who walked out on her son. Now, suddenly, she’s requesting full custody. The same woman who chose to leave her husband and child behind. The same woman who didn’t bother to call or visit her son for months. I agree with Mr. Healey’s attorney. It seems suspicious that this renewed desire to be a mother happens to coincide with the fact that Mr. Healey has hired a nanny for his son—a nanny who has obviously been a godsend during Ryder’s adjustment to life without a mother in the home.”