by Nicky Shanks
Fuck time.
Time hates me.
Time is what got me into this mess.
Well, that…and breaking the rules of protecting the one you love.
I didn’t protect Julie.
I preyed on her.
“Are you ready?” Her voice catches me.
I clear my throat. “Not really.”
Her giggle makes me feel a little better, but the image of Vern smashing my head in with his fists kills the mood. Julie notices my hesitation and surprisingly takes my hand into hers, tugging me up the stairs behind her.
“We can do this.” She smiles and looks around the lobby of the courthouse once we’re inside. “Why isn’t Heather here?”
“I told her not to come,” I say. “She doesn’t need to be here for this. I’m closing a chapter in my life I’d rather not have follow me into this life, ya know?”
She sighs. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, and not that I’m thrilled that this happened…” She puts her things into the small gray bin to be scanned by security. “…think about what our lives would be like if this didn’t happen. Think about what it would be like if I never left, if I never met Oliver or you never met Heather…in some sort of messed-up way…this is where we’re supposed to be.”
“You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Julie: I know I did a fucked-up thing.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m trying to be a good friend.”
A good friend.
That’s all I ever wanted her to be.
Now here we are.
Standing in front of our past and struggling to keep our future in our hands.
Chapter Thirteen
Julie
The courtroom is stuffy and full of people—people who look like they’re tired of fighting and can’t stand the person next to them—and Brandon and I still hold hands as we sit down and he nods toward an older, bald man like he knows him. The man looks at me and smiles, but I act like I don’t notice him and he goes back to his business at the front of the room. Brandon squeezes my hand to let me know everything will be okay, but this is awkward and embarrassing.
“All of these people are getting divorces?” I whisper toward him.
He nods. “Yes, they are. Today this particular judge only sees divorce cases.”
I gulp. “What if he denies our divorce request?”
Brandon snickers and shakes his head. “He won’t, it’s just a formality. He’s just the mediator to make sure both sides are fair and amicable. It’s harder when there’s children involved, but thank God we don’t have that issue.”
I glare at him. “That would’ve been a hard trick to come back from.”
“Jesus, Julie.” He lets go of my hand and scowls. “I was a dick back then but I wouldn’t have tricked you into getting pregnant. I just wanted to marry you, not be your baby daddy.”
Before I can argue with him, the bailiff enters and everyone stands while the judge gets situated. He starts calling names from the top of his docket list and two by two, people skulk toward the lecterns and their entire lives are laid out for everyone to see and hear. I wish Oliver were here with me, but Brandon is doing a pretty good job of calming me down, even though he’s the reason I’m here in the first place.
“Brandon Whitehouse v. Julie Whitehouse.” The judge calls out our names.
Brandon curses underneath his breath and stands up, smoothing out his nice suit. He looks down at me and frowns because he knows I can’t move my feet. After tugging me upward, he holds my hand down the aisle and places me at a lectern opposite of him.
“Brandon Whitehouse?” The judge looks at Brandon and he nods.
When the judge looks at me, there’s pity in his eyes. “Julie Whitehouse?”
I cringe and nod. I don’t know about what else was said after that because I zoned out on a crooked painting on the left side of the room. I hear Brandon conversing with the judge and then the old, bald man that he nodded at before steps up beside me and smiles.
“Mr. Trumbull, nice to see you again.” The judge smirks. “Are you the counsel for Mrs. Whitehouse?”
The old man nods and straightens his jacket. “That I am, Your Honor. We’re asking for spousal maintenance and for property as well, sir.”
Brandon gasps and his knuckles are white from hanging onto the lectern too hard. “What are you talking about? We never discussed this.” He looks at the judge and frowns. “This is uncontested, and Julie isn’t asking for anything—right, Jules?”
I nod and say nothing.
“Well, then, if that’s the case then we can proceed,” the judge says, and my mind goes blurry again. I think about Oliver and imagine him sitting in the chairs behind me, waiting for me to come back to him. This is crazy, I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve let Brandon take care of this like he said he would. I don’t belong here.
“If I may—” Mr. Trumbull starts to say, but something inside of me clicks.
“I don’t want you to speak for me.” I look at him and frown. “I don’t even know who you are.”
The judge’s eyebrows rise. “Is that true, Trumbull?”
“I’m a last minute change of counsel, sir. Mrs. Whitehouse has never met me.”
“I don’t have a counsel,” I tell the judge. “What is going on here?” I look to Brandon for help, but he shrugs his shoulders and hangs his head. “Can you please sit down? I don’t want you up here with me,” I say to Mr. Trumbull, and he does what I ask without question. I look back at the judge and get nervous again.
What would Oliver want me to do?
Fight for yourself!
I clear my throat. “May I speak to you?” I ask the judge. He nods and waves his hand for me to proceed. “This is a big mess…I just don’t want to be married to Brandon anymore. Nothing bad has happened, I don’t want anything of his…I just want to be free.”
Brandon smiles at me and the judge starts listing off legal jargon that makes my head fuzzy. Before I know it, he’s taking me by the arm and leading me out of the courtroom and back into the main lobby.
“What’s going on? Is that it?” I look back at the closed door behind us. “What happened?”
He laughs. “We’re divorced, that’s what happened.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Well, once the judge signs the paperwork and I do a few more legal paperwork things then yeah, just like that.”
“Is it weird that I feel a little sad about it?” I chuckle. “I mean, it’s an odd feeling but I feel like a part of me is missing now.”
“We were best friends before all of this, Jules, it’s only natural to be sad.” He looks at the door opening and Mr. Trumbull emerges from the courtroom and smiles at the two of us like nothing happened.
“Well…” Trumbull claps his hands together. “A little unorthodox, but you got what you wanted, right? You two are single again. How does it feel?”
Brandon scowls at him. “What the fuck was that in there?”
Trumbull doesn’t bat an eyelash. “I figured the least I could do for this poor girl was help her out, but if she doesn’t want anything, she doesn’t want anything.”
“I really don’t.” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “I think you owe Brandon an apology.”
Trumbull laughs loudly and several people stop to stare. “Let’s just get to lunch, shall we? My guest should be meeting us soon and I’m famished.”
To my surprise, I shake my head and refuse. “I’m sorry, but no thanks. I have somewhere to be.”
“Jules…” Brandon smiles at Trumbull and takes me aside. “You gotta come to lunch. Trumbull will fire me if he doesn’t get what he wants. He’s my boss.”
“It sounds like he’s going to fire you no matter what,” I hiss. “This is too jacked up. At least let me call Oliver—”
Trumbull clears his throat behind us. “Ready, kids?”
Brandon nods and tugs
me beside him, tucking my arm around his and holding me so I can’t run. I didn’t tell Oliver where I was going and a late lunch with my now ex-husband and his boss isn’t exactly going to make him feel very good. I know Oliver has a secret understanding with Brandon about something to do with me, but they are getting along so I know not to push it.
He tucks me into the backseat of Trumbull’s black Mercedes and slides in next to me. We don’t drive very far, and he pulls the car into the parking lot of Dilaggio’s and parks in a spot near the front doors. Trumbull turns to us and grins. “The original place I wanted to take you kids has a private party booked, so this will have to do. Do you like the chocolate cake here?”
He’s looking at me so I sweetly smile and nod. He grunts and turns the car off and Brandon unbuckles my seat belt, nearly pushing me out of the door. I feel like I’m walking on air as we follow Trumbull inside and get seated at a table near the windows. Trumbull orders a bourbon but Brandon tells the waiter that he and I will have water, nothing more.
“So, how does it feel to be divorced?” Trumbull laughs. “I’m sorry we never got the chance to meet, honey. I’m Vernon Trumbull.”
I nod. “I know who you are. Thank you for lunch.”
He purses his lips. “Oh, she’s a little firecracker, Brandon. How did you lose this one?”
Brandon coughs into his hands. “I cheated on her with someone who doesn’t matter to me and pushed her away. I lost a good thing.” He smiles over at me. “But we’re still friends and that’s all right by me.”
Trumbull grunts. “I see. I don’t take kindly to cheating, Brandon.”
Before I know it, I shake my head and scoff at the man who is berating my friend. “Excuse me, not to be rude but—” Brandon squeezes my leg underneath the table to get me to shut up. “—how is this any of your business?”
Vern’s eyes darken as the waiter brings his drink and he gulps it down, gesturing for another. “Oh, Miss Priss, it’s my business. Don’t you worry your naïve little head, I know what he’s done to you and I intend to make him answer for his bullshit.”
Brandon gulps loudly next to me. “What do you mean? What do you think you know?”
Trumbull looks past us and I smell a suffocating amount of designer perfume. Heels click against the floor like a clock ticking: methodical and with purpose.
“Daddy?” a woman greets Trumbull and he stands up to hug her. “What’s this about?”
Trumbull clears his throat and pulls out a chair for her. I look over at Brandon and his face is so pale I think he’s going to pass out. My eyes follow where his gaze ends and I instantly share his fear.
Rachel.
As she nervously chuckles, my eyes fall to her bulging midsection.
Rachel is pregnant.
“What the fuck?” Brandon hisses next to me, but only I hear him. I grab his hand underneath the table and he squeezes the life out of it. I want Oliver so badly right now; he’s always good in situations of this…caliber. Even Heather would be a better choice than me. I just want to cry and scream and pull Brandon away to save him from this.
He looks over at me and tears form in his eyes.
“So, let’s have it.” Vern downs another bourbon and Rachel can’t look at me or Brandon. “Help me understand how this happened.”
Brandon growls. “How what fucking happened?”
“I know your entire story, Brandon. I know what you’ve done and I know what resulted from it.” Vern looks over at his daughter’s growing stomach. “And now I want to know what you intend to do about it.”
I can’t listen to this.
My legs won’t work to stand up and run away so I’m trapped next to Brandon—who is losing every inch of his freedom and life as the seconds tick by—and there’s nothing I can do for him. Rachel looks nervous as Vern leans into the table to spew his hate toward Brandon more.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” he scolds. “You’re going to marry my daughter and do right by her, like you should’ve done to your actual wife, or I’ll make your life a living fucking hell.”
Brandon scoffs. “I fucking quit, then, before you go any further and threaten to fire me. Who the fuck do you think you are coming here like this and accusing me of…that?” Brandon’s voice rises and people start to look around to see us.
Vern looks directly at me. “Tell me the truth. You have no loss in this since I know you’ve moved on and got rid of this pathetic waste of space.”
“And just how do you fucking know that?” Brandon’s ears are steaming and he lets go of my hand because he knows his grip is cutting off my circulation.
“Oliver Jackson is a client of mine—he’s put her name on everything he owns.” Vern laughs and sizes Brandon up with one look. “She lucked out, too, because I would’ve advised him against it until he told me her story and how much he loves her. I put two and two together, mentioned your name, and he spilled his guts about everything.” Brandon growls and looks down at me like it’s my fault. Vern laughs harder and Rachel shakes her head. “Looks like Miss Priss traded up…way, way up.”
Brandon stands up, ready to pounce. “You son of a bitch.”
“Brandon,” I calmly say his name and pull him back down next to me. “Don’t cause a scene.” The hate and anger that seeps from his skin is burning me, but I grab his hand again anyway and squeeze it as hard as I can to let him know he’s not alone. I turn to Vern and shake my head. “After I tell Oliver about this, I’m sure you’ll be losing him as a client.”
“Not if I tell him your little secret.” Vern’s lips curl into a snide smile. “He doesn’t know that you two were married, does he? I mentioned your hearing and he didn’t know what I was talking about.”
Panicked, I squeak and start to reach for my phone to call Oliver. “Don’t worry, Miss Priss, I didn’t spill your secret. I have leverage against you now—that’s how the real world works.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
Vern smiles. “I’m just stating a fact, little girl.” His dark eyes go back to Brandon. “As for you…You’re fired. So fucking fired. You seduced my daughter and ruined her life. You’re never going to work for another firm again as long as I live, and trust me, you’ll be paying for this fucking kid.”
Rachel whines. “Daddy, let’s just go.”
Now it’s my turn to stand up. I don’t care who’s looking at us or who can hear us. I don’t even care if Oliver is standing behind me, because he’s going to be proud of what I’m about to say.
“Don’t ever call me little girl again. Don’t call me Miss Priss or any other vulgar, bullshit, and chauvinistic name. You don’t know me and you sure as hell don’t know your own daughter. Yes, Brandon cheated on me with Rachel. Yes, it was more than once. It destroyed me and it took a long, long time to rebuild myself. But if you think your slutty ass daughter wasn’t part of that, you’re a fucking waste of space yourself.”
Brandon stands up and throws his arm over my shoulder. “Listen to the woman, she knows what she’s talking about. Your daughter fucked half of the office—maybe you should spend more time on who she’s opening her legs for instead of accusing only me. If that kid is mine…” Brandon points to Rachel’s stomach. “I’ll step up and do what’s right. Either way, I fucking quit like I said before.”
“I already fired your sorry ass,” Vern growls. “You’ll be hearing from me for a DNA test, boy.”
Brandon scoffs. “I’ll be by to clean out my office in the morning.” He takes my hand and starts to tug me away from the table, but I have a chance to glare at Rachel as we pass. She still looks nervous and I know it’s because she doesn’t know who the father of her baby is herself.
I don’t have any more room inside of me to worry about any other lost cause.
Halfway down the sidewalk, Brandon stops and tips his head to the sky and screams loudly into the open air. People walking the other way stop and stare at us but I don’t care; I join him for a f
ew seconds until our eyes meet and we start laughing.
“What are you going to do?” I say through my laughter. “You’re so screwed.”
“That kid isn’t mine, Jules.” He holds his stomach. “Well, I’d be surprised if it is. Anyway, I’ll honor what I said if it’s mine, don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not worried.” I smile at him. “I know you’re different now.”
He nods and wraps his arm over my shoulders again, leading me back toward the courthouse. “When we get back, I’ll give you a ride home. I have to get home to Heather and tell her what’s happened.”
“Is she going to be upset?”
I feel the love he has for her burst into the air, replacing his angst in front of us. “Nah, we’ve already talked about this. The baby thing will be new for her, but…” He stops and stands in front of me, looking down into my eyes. “She loves me enough to stand by my side. We don’t have secrets; that’s what I love most about her.”
My heart sinks.
I have to tell Oliver where I’ve been.
I have to tell him everything.
Chapter Fourteen
Heather
There’s nothing I can do but sit in the house and quietly wait for Brandon to come home. I try not to bite my fingernails in suspense and I really, really try not to blow up his phone looking for answers. It’s been hours since the hearing and he hasn’t sent me a single word of how thing are going. I think about texting Julie and asking her but refrain from damaging that relationship too. Dozens of fireflies are buzzing around inside my head right now, and though they’re harmless…I can’t save myself from myself.
Finally, three hours after the hearing was scheduled for, Brandon calls me and I can’t answer the phone quickly enough.
“Hey,” he greets me, “what are you doing?”
“I’m waiting for you,” I say quickly and jump up to look outside. “Where are you?”