His tone is gentle, and it sends all the longing in me rocketing to my heart. I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my heart from bursting, and ask the question that’s been plaguing me from the start. “Was it really self-defense?”
“You know the answer to that, my love,” he says calmly. “Of course it was. I had no choice.”
“I’m really scared,” I say quietly, feeling inadequate. He’s all man, and I’m probably no more than a helpless, terrified woman to him. “I hate being this scared. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m scared, too, baby,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “But we’re a team. If we stick together and stand by each other, we’ll get through this. That’s all that matters.”
He’s scared? I swallow hard, clutching my phone tighter. I can’t imagine Joshua Larson being scared of anything, but I hope like hell he means that, because dammit if his admittance doesn’t make the butterflies wake up in my belly.
I hesitate. “What am I going to do about Richard?”
“I’m pretty sure the threats are just a scare tactic so you’ll stop talking to me and stay with him,” he says. “But you know you don’t belong with him. You’re extremely unhappy there. He makes you extremely unhappy. I think you should get a lawyer and get ahead of this thing.”
A lawyer, right.
“Right, okay,” I say calmly, squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath. “I need to find a lawyer.”
“And,” he says. “I’d like it if you moved closer to me.”
I blink, surprised. “Really?”
Joshua chuckles. “Really. You belong to me and you know this. I want you closer.”
Holy shit. Did he just say that?
I know I’ve said it before, that he’s asked me to say it, but it was just a sex thing.
I thought it was just a sex thing.
My heart races. “Did you just say I belong to you?”
“Yeah, baby, I did and you know you do,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Deep down in your heart you know you belong to me, that you’re meant to be with just me.”
Yes! I want to scream it, yell it from the rooftops, but somehow I manage to hold it back, instead responding coyly, “Maybe.”
“Just maybe?” He hums. “I don’t even think you believe it, baby. You know you do, so why fight it?”
And then, once again, that damn one-minute warning plays on the line.
“Baby, it’s almost count time,” he says. “I’ll give you a call back as soon as I can. Just know that all I want is a life with you. I want to make you happy. I want to make you smile, feel beautiful and loved every single day of your life. I love you.”
The phone disconnects then, and as I set it down, I realize I’m smiling.
He loves me and I really do belong to him.
16
Family Law Sucks
“I understand what you’re saying, Mrs. Clarke, but he’s still entitled to a share of your business.”
I blink at the lawyer, then blink again. “But he makes so much more than me.”
“I understand,” she says, “but the courts will look at your potential earnings when making a decision, which, according to the market, is far higher than his. Since you began your publishing company after you married him, a judge would most likely award him a fifty-percent ownership of your company.”
Wait. What?
I squirm in my seat. This can’t be happening. After all this, all the bullshit he’s put me through, he can’t be allowed to win. “But I don’t want anything from him. I don’t need his money. Doesn’t that change anything?”
She shuffles some papers around, making a neat little pile, her eyes narrowed in contemplation. “That’s a good question,” she says eventually. “Since Nova Scotia family law is 50/50, legally, upon divorce, you’re required to equalize your assets. Basically, each party should leave the marriage on equal grounds. So he can still sue for his half of the marital assets, and your publishing company is an asset. He may never see a penny, though. It all depends on your earnings. For him to collect, you would have to out-earn him.”
Right. Of course he can.
I laugh once. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Your best bet, if he’s amicable, is to settle this outside of court. Drafting a separation agreement is top priority. I don’t advise it, but if you’re certain you want nothing out of this marriage, we’ll aim for having a no support and no property division clause, and with luck, he’ll agree to that. If not, I’d strongly advise reevaluating your stance on this matter.”
“Family law sucks,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair, my lungs deflating in a quick burst of air as though she just punched me in the gut.
No. Scratch that.
A quick hit would probably be easier to handle than this.
My comment makes her laugh. “Marriage in Nova Scotia is looked at as a partnership. It’s business, Mrs. Clarke. We’re a no fault, 50/50 province. In some cases, this could suck, but it can also be beneficial.”
I nod. I can see that. Maybe where there’s a stay-at-home mom, but for my situation, well, it just sucks.
I sigh heavily. “What about his threats?”
She straightens in her chair, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “Until he acts on them, there’s nothing we can do. If he does go to the media with your story, there may be some legal recourse for you.”
“But there’s no way to stop him, no guarantee a judge would rule in my favor if he tries to ruin my name.”
She shakes her head. “If his allegations are true, and he can prove that, then no, there’s no guarantee. The only promise I can make to you is that if you retain me, I will do everything I can to protect your assets and your business.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say, what to do. The man could very well ruin my life and there’s nothing, nothing, I can do about it.
“My initial retainer is seven-thousand,” she continues. “I’m confident that we can settle this matter with that.”
Seven-thousand. I squirm in my chair as her price sinks in. It seems like such a waste of money, really, though I’d pay that to see the look on Richard’s face when he realizes how costly this divorce will be if he chooses to fight me.
Shit. I’d pay double her retainer just to see that.
That’s when it hits me. A thought—a longshot—but a thought nonetheless forms, and a genuine smile forms on my lips. “Thank you, Ms. Lane,” I say, gathering up all my financials and paperwork. “I’d like to go ahead with the agreement as discussed. Let’s see if he’ll go for a clean and simple separation.”
She stands up, shaking my hand, and has me pay the retainer through her secretary, assuring me that she’ll draft something up for my review right away, and then I’m on my way, back into the chilly October air.
Pulling my jacket closed, I head to the parking lot, glancing at my phone. It’s just before eleven o’clock in the morning; Joshua will be calling soon.
Getting into my car, I start it up and turn the heat up full blast, before I whip the car out of the parking lot.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to my house from the lawyer’s office. I stop at a U-Haul store and purchase a crap-ton of boxes, then at a Starbucks, ordering a Caramel Macchiato, and sip on it as I wait for my phone to ring, trying to think of something—anything—but the meeting I just had or the packing I have to do.
By the time I’m halfway home, I’m feeling okay, having a little more clarity on how I need to approach my divorce, and when my phone finally rings, I answer it, putting it on speakerphone, and accept the call.
“Hey. What’s good, baby girl?”
“Everything’s good,” I say, clipping the phone into the holder on the dash. “I just got out of the lawyer’s office and now I’m heading home to start packing.”
“Good.” He sounds pleased, like maybe he thought I wouldn’t actually go to my appointment. Or perhaps it’s that he thought I’d chi
cken out and not move out of the house. “How did it go, my love?”
“I don’t really know,” I say. “It was kind of confusing. She said he could go after my business because of my earning potential.”
“Is that something you think he’d do?” he asks.
I laugh once. Probably. “I don’t even know. Honestly, I don’t know what to think about any of it. She doesn’t seem to agree with me on what I want to do, but she did agree to give it a try, though she said if he doesn’t agree to my terms, then I need to reevaluate everything.”
“Well, do you feel comfortable with her? Like, do you think she’s a good lawyer and will be on your side?”
“Yeah, I like her,” I say. “I just think, maybe she’ll try to push me to fight for something.”
He lets out a deep sigh. “Baby girl, I really don’t think you should walk away with nothing. You shouldn’t be getting screwed because he’s an asshole.”
Fair enough, but I’m pretty sure fighting him in court will screw me.
“Yeah, but what if we can convince him to sign off on leaving me and my business alone?” I ask. “I don’t need his money, Joshua. I make more than enough on my own.”
And he will sign off. Once he wraps his head around how much he’ll have to give me, he’ll be willing to settle quietly.
I’m sure of it.
I hope.
“Baby, just because you’re offering to walk away from everything doesn’t mean he’ll go for it,” he says. “I really think that you need to just do what’s in your best interest. And with the way he’s been behaving lately, I don’t really trust him.”
“I still think that maybe I should try to do it this way. I won’t touch any of his stuff, and in return he won’t touch mine. I just want to get this done and over with. And I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want the reminders.”
Silence falls and seconds pass.
Five, ten, fifteen seconds … I count the seconds in my head, waiting for his thoughts, trying to think of a better way to make him see that trying to get Richard to settle quietly and privately isn’t a bad thing.
“If that’s what you think is best,” he says, though the tone of his voice tells me something entirely different. “It’s your company, your business, I would just hate to see you lose out because you don’t want to fight for what you deserve.”
I inhale deeply. “But I am fighting for what I deserve. I’m fighting for me. I’m fighting to get my life back. And I’m fighting for us. If I leave everything, then maybe, maybe, he won’t ruin my life.”
“Baby, he’s just threatening you to try to control you,” he says, a hint of anger in his voice. “That’s all that is. We both know that. And he sees it’s not working so he’s just basically trying anything he can to get you to stay, no matter what, whether it’s a threat toward your family, a threat toward me, it doesn’t really matter. He’s trying everything he can to get you to stay.”
But why? I want to scream the question. The man doesn’t love me. He can hardly tolerate me on most days. Why the hell does he want me to stay? I just don’t get it.
It makes no sense.
Not even a little.
“I just think I can use all of that to my advantage now,” I say, swallowing down the well of anxiety creeping up my throat. “I just want to try at least. My lawyer is going to draft up an agreement and see what he says. Maybe he’ll sign it and we can be done with this.”
Joshua lets out a long sigh. “If you really feel like you can get him to sign off on not touching your business and everything like that, then that would be great, baby. I mean, it’s worth it to try. I just think he’s all over the place right now, and I just … I don’t really know what to think. He’s done so many horrible things to you already.”
“Well, at least he’s not at home for a couple weeks,” I say. “And by the time he gets back, I’ll be gone. What’s the worst he can do? Call me and yell at me? I can hang up on him.”
“Okay, baby, well whatever you think is best.”
He doesn’t sound reassured, but he doesn’t press this issue, and after a few minutes of random chitchat, he lets me go.
When I get home, I’m keyed-up, ready to get to work. I briefly consider calling my parents, but the thought doesn’t last. I know they won’t agree with me just walking away and leaving everything behind. And I don’t think I can handle their reactions to my failing marriage or my relationship with Joshua. Not now.
I head straight for my office, carrying as many boxes as I can handle, piling them on the floor. Then, I fire off a quick text to Becca.
ME: I’m at my house, packing. Are you certain you don’t mind me staying with you and using your garage as storage?
Her response comes quickly.
BECCA: Of course not. I’ll be over once I’m finished at work to help. Love you, babe.
ME: Love you, too.
Setting my phone down, I pick up one of the boxes, and quickly put it together, before turning to my bookshelves. I try not to think as I take the first books off the beautiful shelves and pack them into the cardboard box, though it’s a useless effort. With each book I place into the box, I think.
I think about this room, my sanctuary.
I think about this house.
I think about the good times and the bad times and everything in between.
I think.
And I remember.
And I hardly get anything done.
And when Becca walks in hours later, I’m still in my office working on clearing off my bookshelves. She walks into my office, her eyes scanning the few boxes I managed to fill, and I can tell from her expression that she isn’t surprised I haven’t gotten more done.
She looks sorry—sorry and sad.
“It’s harder than you thought it’d be, isn’t it?” she asks, her eyes flickering toward my filing cabinet, where I abandoned a half-filled box.
This was something I hadn’t given much thought to last night when I asked her if I could crash with her for a little while. In fact, it didn’t really hit me until I was about to go to sleep and she told me she’d help me pack my things and move them into her garage for now.
I told her it wasn’t necessary, that I could just leave everything in the house until I figured things out.
She told me it’d be crazy not to, considering how erratic Richard has been acting. And she pointed out that even though he said he’d be gone for two weeks, he could fly home at any time and when he finds me gone, who knows what would happen to my things.
“Yeah, it is.”
She steps over to the filing cabinet and pulls one of the drawers open. “It’ll get easier, babe. Promise.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it will.” I grab some more books, feeling relieved and slightly more focused now that she’s here. “So, um, Joshua asked me to move to Pennsylvania.”
“He wants you to move out there?” she asks. “Already?”
Becca looks like I just hauled off and slapped her. Her eyes are so wide they look as though they could pop out at any second. She just stares at me with shock, and I almost feel guilty, smiling back at her timidly. We’ve been best friends since grade school, and the thought of moving so far away from her isn’t a happy one.
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready for that?”
I shrug. “I really don’t know.”
I turn to Becca as she flops down on the chair, staring off out the window, looking lost. After a moment, her skeptical gaze turns to me. “Have you told your parents yet?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I haven’t told them about anything.”
“You probably should,” she says after a moment. “They should hear the story from you before Richard decides to tell them.”
She’s right. I know she is, but …
“What if they don’t approve of Joshua?”
“You’ll deal,” she says firmly. “Just like you dealt when they didn’t approve of Richard.”
17
Parents Know Best
My cellphone pings. I roll over in bed, picking it up from my nightstand to take a look. It’s a text message from Richard.
RICHARD: I hear you’re trying to screw me. I’m surprised you’re willing to risk your reputation.
And then it pings again …
RICHARD: You wait until I leave the country to pull this shit?
And again …
RICHARD: After everything I’ve done for you over the last two years. Ruthless.
And again …
RICHARD: I hope whatever money you get from me gets burned when you move on to the next guy. Maybe your boyfriend convict can use some for his canteen.
I sit up in bed as tears—damn tears—burn my eyes. Oh, shit, he knows I went to a lawyer. He knows. How the hell does he know already?
When my phone chimes again, I want to throw it across the room.
But I don’t.
Of course I don’t.
Call it curiosity if you want, but the masochist in me looks at the new message.
RICHARD: Did you really think I wouldn’t have someone watching you while I was gone? I know you were at Matheson and Associates yesterday. Really, Victoria? I’m gone a day and you’re already getting a lawyer?
I know I shouldn’t respond. Poking the bear never helps, but I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut. Tired of letting him walk all over me, so I type a response, and send it.
ME: If you’re going to be like this, then you can just speak to my lawyer. Obviously you already know who that is. I’m being more than fair here and really, if you bothered to wait for the proposal, you’d see that. Besides, you’re the one who threatened me, I’m just trying to protect myself here.
And then I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait some more.
I’m about to get out of bed, thinking a nice hot shower will calm my nerves, when Richard finally responds.
If I Could Do It Again Page 13