Gwen knew it was the question of a concerned parent, but on top of everything else, the implication she either couldn’t tell or might have lied scraped her emotions raw. “I’m positive. Snoozing away.” She was too drained to keep the bite from her voice.
“She does that.” He stepped around her. “We’ll go.”
“Wait.” She almost rested a hand on his arm but drew back at the last minute. She didn’t want to have this conversation now, but if she didn’t speak up, she’d chicken out. “Give me two minutes.”
He glanced at the couch then back at her. “Okay?”
“The other day, when we said this is over, we were right.” The words hurt more than she expected. “I can’t do this roller coaster crap. I can’t pretend in front of her. I can’t break her heart. My own.” Shit, she hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“What about your case?”
Not quite the response she hoped for. Part of her wanted him to protest. To ask her to reconsider. At least to apologize for accusing her of setting him up on purpose. “I don’t care.” She did, just not about that, and that was why she had to walk away now. Better to rip off the Band-Aid than peel it away slowly as they drifted apart once the need for their charade was up. “George can have the money. I’m done arguing. We’re over. I’m glad your baby girl is safe. Take her home. Have a nice life.”
“Gwen.”
She stepped aside and gestured at Drea. “Before she wakes up.” Before I have to be the one to tell her that, once again, an adult is leaving her.
Chapter Seventeen
“Dad, you’re out of milk again.” Drea drummed her fingers on the breakfast bartop.
“I know, hon. I’m sorry. Give me a minute.” He only kept it in the house for her and hadn’t expected her. He should have, but he didn’t figure Emily would do this so soon after yesterday’s decision. He stared at his phone, willing it to ring. An indicator from Emily of her plans. A call from Gwen.
No. He didn’t want the latter. He hadn’t meant to overreact the other day, but they were right to break things off. The entire relationship was based on a lie that had only gotten them in trouble. Except he couldn’t ignore the wash of frustration at the idea of never talking to her again. It didn’t matter. He’d get over it. Even if it did hurt more than when Emily left.
Speaking of, he was sick of waiting for his ex-wife. This was bullshit. He walked into his office, shut the door, and called Ned.
“It’s too early for this.” Ned sounded wide awake, despite the words.
Brad wasn’t in the mood for banter. Yesterday’s courtroom loss stung twice as hard, given the circumstances that followed. “Deal with it. We need to request another hearing.”
Ned made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Judge said six months. How do you have extenuating circumstances already?”
“Emily left Drea home alone last night.” As frustrated as Brad was, he kept his voice at normal volume, so Drea wouldn’t hear him yell.
“She’s ten years old. I’m sure she was all right for a few hours.”
The dismissal would have infuriated Brad anyway, but today it grated straight through to his irritation center. “This wasn’t for a few hours. She took off to Nevada for the night, didn’t make sure Drea was with anyone first, and still isn’t home this morning.”
“But the kid’s with you now. Right?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t before Emily left.”
“Listen. After what you pulled yesterday, I’m not sure it matters.” Ned spoke in a slow, firm tone, as if talking to a child. “I told you what to say, and you fucked up. Something like this is going to pale in comparison to what you did.”
“The fuck?” Brad couldn’t keep his voice down any longer. “What I did? You mean wanting to bring my daughter back into my life? A girl who stays with me half the time anyway? And being honest about that with the judge? How the hell is that a fuck-up? Emily abandoned her.”
“Did Emily call you when she did it?”
“Yes, but she didn’t wait for me to pick up. She left a generic message. I didn’t have scheduled time, not that I hesitated to make it. I always do.”
“Then what are you bitching about?” Ned asked. “You got Drea for another day.”
Brad couldn’t figure out how to make himself clearer. “Emily put her life in danger. How is that not cause for having the case reheard?”
“You’re exaggerating. She’s almost eleven. She’d have been fine.”
“Why are you dogging me?” Brad shouted.
“I’ll file a motion. Just don’t get your hopes up, and expect this will cost a lot.”
“Fine.” Brad clipped the word off. “Get it done.” As he disconnected, white-hot fury burned through his veins. He took a few minutes, forcing a calm mask into place, then headed back to the kitchen.
Drea looked up the moment he stepped into the room. If she heard the yelling, it didn’t show on her face. “Can we go see Gwen at work today, since we didn’t do it Sunday?”
Gwen’s name drove a new sharp edge through him, mingling with the anger and making every inch of him tense. “She’s not working today. But I’ll take the day off. We’ll go do whatever you want.”
“Bookstore and then hamburgers?”
“Absolutely.” He grabbed his keys and held the front door open for her. A throb echoed behind his ribs, whispering Gwen’s name. Reminding him he missed her more than he should.
****
Gwen sifted through blog submissions, the words running together like so much ink on a wet page. She hadn’t gotten home until almost one this morning, and even then couldn’t sleep. Telling Brad goodbye for good was the right thing to do, but it still left a hollow cavern in her chest. It wasn’t only that she didn’t want to get attached to Drea or that she was already hooked on Brad. She couldn’t get his accusations out of her head. She didn’t need that kind of mistrust. His instinct that kicked in generated assumptions because she made a mistake.
Since it was a diner day off, she needed some other way to fill her time. Replacing Sunday’s mistake post of the millennium seemed like a good idea.
The problem was she couldn’t find the kind of vindictiveness inside that she normally used to write posts. Or maybe she was gun shy. But she was pretty sure the drive she had in the past to spew out random vents about bad past dates wasn’t there.
None of the submissions from her readers caught her eye, either. As she reached the punchline on each, she found herself rolling her eyes.
…and then, after asking if his mother and ex-brother-in-law could join us, he forgot his wallet, and I had to pick up the check.
…of course, I found out he wasn’t really a priest. That was a line he used to catch the attention of naughty girls.
…after all that, he asked if I’d pay his subscription fees next month, so he didn’t lose his guild.
Gwen raised an eyebrow at the last one, and it took her a minute to piece together they were talking about an online game.
This wasn’t doing what she hoped. She’d type up an apology for not having a post this week, and go find something else. Her to-do list was a mile long; there had to be a distracting option hidden somewhere.
Her phone rang, and she lunged for it. Because it was something to do, not at all because of the tiny whisper asking if it was Brad. It didn’t matter; it was her attorney. “Hey, Jim,” she said.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure. I was going to call you anyway.”
“Fantastic. Me first. I’ve got the arbitration information. Discovery starts on—”
“Call it off.” Even on a good day, when her impatience wasn’t at maximum capacity, letting him finish an explanation she didn’t need wasn’t her idea of fun.
“That’s an extraordinarily bad idea.” Irritation leaked into his voice. “You already agreed. Fluctuating is going to irritate anyone, judge or arbitrator, and create a subconscious bias. That means they’re not going to like you very much.”
“I know what bias means, thanks.” She’d thought about this a lot over the past few days. Typically on the tail of Brad’s voice in her head, saying, You only lose money you’ve admitted you don’t need.” It was the one thought that distracted her from him. Enough so, she asked herself repeatedly if she only considered backing off because of his words. She finally decided that no, this was one step toward regaining her sanity. “I want to settle. The offer on the table is I keep one-third of my remaining trust, and he gets the rest. I’ll pay your fees from my share.” She couldn’t be careless with money if she did this, but she hadn’t been before. And George thought it would make him happy. She doubted it, but this way the entire thing was finally over.
“It’s not like you to surrender.” Hesitation hung heavy in Jim’s words.
No. It wasn’t. But maybe sometimes stubbornness didn’t work in her favor. “I’m not surrendering. I’m choosing my battles. I’m done spinning my wheels on this, and it’s time to move on to things that aren’t driven by me refusing to budge.”
“All right.” His sigh was loud enough to echo in her head. “I’m going on record as saying I don’t agree with your decision.”
“Noted. Do it anyway.”
“You’re the boss. I’ll write up the settlement proposal today, email it over to you for approval, and send it to plaintiff council.” The clacking of keystrokes echoed in the background while he spoke. “I saw your blog post Sunday.” He slid into a more conversational tone.
Acid surged in her throat at the reminder. So much for taking her mind off Brad. “I didn’t realize you were a reader.”
“Always keeping an eye on things. Besides, I like some of the stories. The guy the rumors say it was about—I know him.”
Me too. She bit back the sarcastic reply. “Not sure where you’re going with this.”
“Well, we’ve never met personally, but I hear things.”
The one time he wasn’t direct and to the point. Gwen stifled her frustration. “What kind of things?”
“Like that he’ll probably be fighting his custody battle until his kid’s eighteen. Never quite losing or winning, always standing in limbo. That’s the guy, right?”
Her inching nausea swelled. “What do you mean?”
“It’s an observation. It’s not like I know anything concrete. But say, hypothetically, he were represented by a guy who specializes in helping fathers keep custody of their kids. The kind of guy who picks up high profile clients like your date-gone-bad, brags about it behind closed doors. But…” A long pause drifted down the line.
If Gwen didn’t hear background noise, she’d wonder if Jim were still there. “But what?”
“You know? Never mind. I’ll start that settlement stuff, as long as you promise me, in your own words right now, that you’re sure.”
“Jim. Tell me what you know.”
“I can’t. Slander, and all that. No one pays me enough to risk disbarment if the rumors aren’t true. You can’t back out of it, once I go down this path.”
She wanted to push harder, but the finality in his tone pinged inside her head, trying to insist this wasn’t her problem. “I’m positive. Draw up the offer and send it to me for approval.”
As she hung up, Jim’s unfinished words bounced in her skull. He said it was an assumption—whatever it was. No reason to linger on it, especially if it related to Brad. She needed to get him out of her head.
Instead, she found herself searching for, Are custody hearings public record? One of the first links was for a government site, and she clicked through. With each new page, a nagging voice whispered she needed to stop. There was work to do. She followed link after link. One told her that, while the details were private, the rulings were public. It sent her to a page with documents, and within moments, she’d given them her credit-card number for access and found Brad’s records.
She wasn’t sure what to look for, though. After cutting through the legalese, it was what Brad had already told her.
A guy who specializes in fathers keeping custody of their kids. Jim’s words bounced against her memory. She pulled Brad’s lawyer’s name from the documents and searched for his cases, instead. At first there was nothing significant. The guy didn’t have any cases before a few years ago, so he was probably new to practicing law.
But then a pattern emerged. He almost always appeared before the same judge, and the rulings were the same as Brad’s ninety percent of the time. The dad never lost custody, but he never got much. She had no idea if that was normal, but statistically speaking, it didn’t seem likely.
It also made her wonder how a guy like that got a reputation like his. It was true, his wins were big. Mother completely out of the kid’s life in a couple of cases. But there weren’t a lot of those.
It didn’t matter if she was keeping her distance. Brad deserved this information, whatever it meant. She dialed, listened to the phone ring, and hung up when it went to voicemail. No surprise—he wasn’t taking her calls. She wasn’t going to play the phone-tag game with him. This wasn’t about begging for forgiveness or making up. She saved all the court rulings to a zip disc, typed up a brief note explaining what she saw and why he should pay attention, and headed into his office.
She expected a chilly reception at the front desk, but she only needed to drop something off. Her body’s memory ached to find Brad. To see him in person. To make things right. But that wasn’t the point. When the girl at the front desk smiled warmly, Gwen almost fainted in surprise. Yup, it was the same girl as the day before. So Brad hadn’t told everyone the engagement was off. She didn’t know what to do with the information.
“Mr. Goode isn’t in. I’m so sorry,” the girl said.
Gwen forced herself to smile. “It’s okay. I need to leave this for him. Please make sure he gets it.”
“Of course.” The girl set the envelope next to her keyboard. “I’ll tell him you were here.”
“Thanks.” Gwen didn’t want to hang around and be chummy. This wasn’t part of her life anymore. When she reached home again, she dropped by the mailbox and frowned at the pale pink card in the stack of bills and catalogs. It was from an aunt in Florida, but it wasn’t Gwen’s birthday or anything.
As soon as she got inside, she thumbed open the card and slid it out. Her heart crumbled at the handwritten note, congratulating her on her engagement. Gwen sank into a nearby chair and dropped her face into her hands. God. This sucked so much.
Chapter Eighteen
Gwen stared at the congratulatory card as seconds turned into minutes, her mind numb at first, then kicking loose and spinning up to a thousand miles an hour. She grabbed her phone and dialed the last incoming number. She wasn’t surprised when it went straight to voicemail. “This is Gwen Debson. Say I figured out what you were talking about earlier today, hypothetically. I’m hoping you can recommend an alternative contact for me. Email me back if you have a name.” She would have been more descriptive in her message, but with Jim’s refusal to talk about details earlier, so she figured this was the best way for him to claim plausible deniability.
She moved into her home office and woke up her sleeping laptop. If none of the posts she had to pick from for her blog felt right, she would put up something else instead. She let the words flow, not pausing to over-think them, but hoping they still felt true once they were on her screen.
Dear lovers, lovelorn, and heartbroken,
They say there are only two absolutes in life—death and taxes. I’d like to argue that. It’s also a fact, to me an undeniable one, that a lot of relationships are bad. At the far end of the spectrum, there’s the horrific and unspeakable. Somewhere in the middle, falls the intolerable. The things that happen that aren’t unforgivable sins, but certainly feel like it at the time. The moments that make you wonder what the fuck the other person was thinking.
In the past, we’ve shared hundreds of stories. A lot of them based on my personal experience. Because I tell the stories, I tend to ge
t off looking like the what-the-fucked. Like the person who did no wrong. I’m not perfect, though. I screw things up too, and I think I may have done irreparable damage.
Or maybe, like so many relationships that fall at the extreme other end of the scale, this one wouldn’t have worked out. Wouldn’t that have been nice? If we didn’t have to deal with the consequences of our mistakes, and could all just say it wasn’t meant to be?
I’m not sure where I’m going with this, my lovelies. I think I’d like everyone to consider there are two sides to every story, and sometimes it’s not the other person who’s at fault. And to the man I wronged, I’m sorry. More than I can every say or make up for.
This site will be undergoing some changes over the next few months, so I ask in advance you pardon our dust. We’ll still focus on stories of the lovers, lovelorn, heartbroken, and anyone else who thinks love is 2Gud2BTru, but the tone is about to shift.
Until then, make sure you visit our latest sponsor.
She finished the post with a link to TooGoodToBeTrue.com, and published it. When she switched to her email, she was surprised and pleased to see Jim had already sent her a reply, along with a note that said he hoped it worked out. She texted the new lawyer name and phone number to Brad, along with a note that said specializes in custody cases. Her fingers hesitated over the screen for a moment, and then she added, I miss you, and clicked Send before she could talk herself out of it.
She didn’t know if he’d read either note, and a gnawing ache asked what she’d do if he ignored her comment. It was something she’d deal with if she had to.
****
Brad took his credit card from the bookstore cashier, handed the top book from the stack to Drea, and followed her back to his car. His phone buzzed. Aggravation told him to ignore it, but last night’s fiasco still rang in his head. True, Drea was already with him, and Emily had called about half an hour ago, to say they were on their way home, but he’d take an irritating message over ignoring an important one.
Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) Page 12