by Blue Saffire
There is no mistaking what he wants to do to that guy.
“First, you didn’t embarrass me. So don’t apologize for that. And leaving me was good. You left to deescalate the situation. That was very smart of you. I’m proud of you.”
That smile I long for spreads across his face. For the first time since the situation went down, he looks genuinely happy again. He takes a step toward me, his towering height causing me to look up.
“Say that again.”
I quirk up one eyebrow. “Say what?”
“That you’re proud of me.”
I chuckle, but oblige his request. “Dean Christian Anderson, I’m proud of you for taking the higher road, and walking away from the fight.”
“How proud of me are you?”
Not again with the sexy innuendos.
“Proud enough to let you have a taste of my melting ice cream.”
He laughs as he takes his ice cream out of my hand, along with our bags I picked up. “Come on, maybe we can find some shade to slow down the melting.”
I follow him to a nearby bench seat. It isn’t that shaded, but it might be a few degrees cooler than the warm spring air. I plop down on the seat and he sits beside me, so close our thighs touch. He places the bags on the other side of him and turns those piercing eyes to me.
“What?” I ask when he watches me take a lick of my ice cream.
He grins. “I thought I was allowed to get a taste?” Though his words are meant for the ice cream, the way he’s focused on me makes me think of something else.
Breathe, Sienna. He’s just being charming. This is what he does. He isn’t actually talking about licking your body.
I hold my ice cream out toward him. He licks the side of my ice cream, his wide fat tongue slowly taking the dripping vanilla from the cone up to the top. His eyes never leave mine.
A chill runs down my spine that has me shivering. It has nothing to do with the ice cream or the shade. He winks, and I can’t help but think he knows what he’s doing to me. I look away, pretending that a woman and her child have caught my eye.
“Your ice cream is good,” he says leaning into my ear so close the coolness of his breath brushes against my neck.
“I’m glad you like it,” I find myself saying as I turn back to him.
He watches me for a moment longer than normal, then turns away from me, freeing me from his piercing stare. I take in a breath and lick my ice cream. Anything that will distract me from him.
“What you said back there,” he starts after a few minutes of silence. “About not giving his words power, that was pretty clever. Have you always been so level headed?”
I turn to face him. He’s still not looking at me, but I answer him.
“No. I’ve had years to learn that message. My father would preach to me all the time that words have no power, unless you give it to them. It took me a few years until that lesson sunk in.”
“So, it didn’t bother you, what he said?” He turns back to me and asks.
With his eyes on me, I can tell that he’s still dealing with the situation. No doubt if I said I was hurt about that comment; Dean would still go into the shop and beat that dude’s ass for me. I won’t lie like I’m completely unfazed by the words. However, it’s my conscious decision to not let them affect me.
“I’ve been overweight all my life. That comment isn’t the first or the last I will receive about my weight. Hell, it wasn’t even the most hurtful.” I snicker before getting serious. “For a long time, I felt sorry for myself and I wore my weight like a wet blanket. I felt it every time I moved.
“Before I had Maddox, I decided to do something about it. I exercised and I dieted. I lost a lot of weight. But weight loss wasn’t my only problem. My demons were in here,” I say tapping the side of my head. “I started working on that part of me, and it helped. Now, when I look at the scale, being up five pounds or down doesn’t faze me.
“I still exercise and make smart eating choices, but I don’t run myself crazy to fit into the world’s view of what my body should look like. To answer your question, no that guy didn’t bother me.”
He stares at me in silence for a minute and then smiles. “You’re incredible,” he simply says, and I shrug.
He drops a warm hand on my knee, and I feel it through the thick fabric of my jeans.
“And for what it’s worth, I think you and your body are perfect.” I don’t show him how much his words hit me. He doesn’t need to know that my heart is now racing like a Clydesdale.
Instead of letting him know how he has made me feel, I place a smile on my lips and say, “You’re just trying to get more of my ice cream because yours is gone. You’re not slick.”
He tosses his head back and bursts into laughter.
“Hey, yours is a lot better than mine,” he admits.
We spend another hour just walking and talking about anything and everything. I hate to leave, but I have to get back home to Maddox.
Chapter 5
Mediation
Dean
I tug at the white collar of my dress shirt. I hate wearing suits and dress clothes. I hate it even more that I have to wear it for this bullshit mediation.
My lawyer suggested the suit since we’re going for a calm professional approach. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Sienna said that we needed the mediator to think that I’m as far from the story Trisha told as possible. If it means I have to wear an uncomfortable suit then so be it.
I need this divorce to be done as fast as possible, hence doing the mediation. I definitely don’t want to go to court to drag this mess out and end up paying crazy fees in spousal support. The more Trisha and I can agree to within mediation the better.
When the mediator calls out my name, my lawyer and I stand. My lawyer, Michael, is a cool guy. Dark brown skin, a goatee, and bald head. He seriously knows his shit too. He’s the one that told me to try mediation first, that way no one goes digging any further into my finances.
“You got this.” Michael says to me as we walk toward the office. “Just remember, don’t let her get to you. They’re going to try to prove that you were violent, and it was your fault she needed the divorce.”
Another thing Michael taught me because Trisha cheated, I don’t owe her any spousal support. Yet if she can prove that I had been violent or abusive during our marriage, then the court might find her affair as justifiable and I may end up paying her.
Hell no.
I fix my tie as I step into the small conference room. Tan walls and fluorescent lights add very little to the stale atmosphere. A rectangular table sits in the middle of the floor with five chairs, two on each side of the table and one at the head, where our clean-cut mediator sits.
Michael and I sit down across from Trisha and her lawyer. Trisha looks just as beautiful as she’s always been. Long blonde hair, big doe eyes the color of a cloudless sky. A smile that could lure a priest to sin.
My ex is stunning. It aches to look at her. I can’t believe this is where we are now.
“Thank you all for coming, we’re going to get this started,” the mediator says. He slides a folder to each lawyer. “These are the agreed upon terms of the divorce. There isn’t much property, a home, some furnishings and a boat, all in which Mr. Anderson has agreed to sell and split the proceeds down the middle.”
My fist tightens on top of the table at the thought of having to give this woman anything. After that shady accountant fucked me out of millions, all I have is my home and the boat. A few expensive pieces of furniture, a car, and that’s it. Well, not entirely, but it’s all her ass knows about.
“My client is willing to give her any furnishings out of the home that she would like, including her clothing. Everything else he would like to keep.”
“We agreed on selling the furniture so we could get the money, what the hell are you going to do with the furniture without a house to put it in?” Trisha’s lawyer places a hand over hers on top of the table. He leans ove
r and whispers something in her ear. She rolls her eyes, but nods her head.
“My client agrees with your client’s request.”
Michael looks to me out of the corner of his eye.
“Good,” the mediator says keeping a straight face. “You have a year to sell the house and the boat.”
“A year?” Trisha cries out. Another calming touch from her lawyer.
The mediator continues on. “The sale of both are estimated at $551,799.”
“Actually,” Trisha’s lawyer speaks up. “Not all the possessions were included in the agreement.”
I look over at Trisha and she has a smug ass smile on her face. There’s no way she knows about that.
“There is a 2015 Lamborghini Huracan I believe, the value is priced around $300,000.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout despite my lawyer trying to calm me down. “That’s my car, Trisha. The only goddamn thing I have left of my career. You’re not taking my fucking car.”
“Dean, I need you to calm down.”
“No.” I shoot to my feet. “Fuck that, Michael. I’m giving up my fishing boat and my house, she’s not getting my car.”
“My client and I need a five-minute break to discuss this new addition. Can you give us a minute please?”
The mediator narrows his eyes toward me, but nods his head. I watch as Trisha smiles smugly as she and her lawyer speak lowly to each other. Michael follows me out of the room and closes the door behind us.
“I need you to calm down.”
I can hear his words, but I can’t focus. I can’t believe Trisha. She knows how much that car means to me. There’s no way I’m parting with it.
“Look, go walk outside and cool off. I need to make a call and see how best to counteract this. When exactly did you get the car?”
“June 17th, the day of my wedding, but it was purchased a week before.”
Michael seems to relax a little. “Alright, you go walk it off before we go back in there. I’ll handle this.”
Michael steps away from me and pulls out his phone. I stare at the door for a few minutes, my anger wanting me to go back in there and tell Trisha and her lawyer just where they can go. I’ve never wanted to throw shit so bad in my life. Before I realize what I’m doing, my phone is already ringing at my ear.
“Dean?” she answers like she’s shocked. “What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be in mediation?”
“I’m losing it. She wants to take my car. I’ve offered her everything else and she’s trying to fight me for my car. I could… ugh,” I growl into the phone, causing a young man walking by to look over at me.
He must realize how enraged I am because he quickly hurries pass.
“Hey, listen to the sound of my voice. I need you to breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” I follow her instructions. “Good, now tell me what kind of car it is?”
“Lamborghini Huracan,” I answer as I continue to breathe.
“Oh sounds expensive.” She snickers. “And what color is it? No let me guess. It’s red?”
“Wrong, it’s blue.” I laugh.
“Blue? Who gets a sports car in blue? It should always be candy apple red.”
I don’t even realize that I don’t need the breathing exercises anymore. I don’t need them to calm down, just talking to her has me calm. She distracts me.
“I’m better now,” I admit.
“Good. Now, I want you to stay focused. Trisha is baiting you. Don’t let her win. Remember—”
“Words don’t have power,” I say smiling as I recite her lesson from our outing.
Another laugh from her. “Exactly. This isn’t about the car right now. She’s trying to get under your skin. You’re not who she claims you are. You’re going to go back in there, smile and be agreeable. Don’t give her anything to use against you, all right?”
A gust of air leaves my lips in relief. She’s right, Trisha is just trying to make me out to be the abusive ex that caused her to cheat. That isn’t me. If I’m going to win this, I have to prove that night, five months ago was just a fluke.
“You’re right. Thank you, for everything.”
“It’s not a problem. That’s what I’m here for. Now I have to go, I’m getting another phone call.”
I wait until I know she has hung up before I click my phone off. I’m immediately in a better mood after talking to her. That calming effect she has on me works almost instantly.
“Hey, you ready?” Michael says, walking up behind me. I turn around and nod. “Good, I need you to keep your shit together, man. Let me do all the talking.”
Another nod from me. Michael leads the way back inside the mediation room. We both take our seats quietly. I place my phone down on the table.
Michael clears his throat. “Where were we?”
Before the mediator can open his mouth, Trisha replies, “Dean was agreeing to split the money for that unnecessary car.”
My hands fist above the table, but I don’t reply. Sienna’s voice whispers through my mind. You’re not who she claims you are.
“Why wasn’t the car listed in the joint assets?” the mediator says looking over to me.
“The car isn’t a purchase they obtained together nor during their marriage,” Michael replies.
“Lies, we got that car on our wedding day.”
“Yes, but it was purchased a week prior to your marriage license being signed. Therefore, it is not a joint investment. It was a gift given as a signing bonus to my client.”
“A gift that was given to the both of us,” Trisha tries to explain.
“Funny, I didn’t see you on that baseball field,” I calmly state although I’m damn near ready to come out of my seat.
“Not like you were there that long either.”
Again, that anger builds up in me ready to explode. I don’t give a shit if I was there for one day or six years, I earned everything I ever got. I put in the hours on that field, not her.
Just as I’m ready to lose it, my phone lights up on the table in front of me. I pick it up and immediately smile. It’s a message from Sienna. Just a simple, you got this.
It’s amazing how well she knows me. Spending time with her the other day at the outlet mall was proof that she and I are meant to be. I can’t get enough of her company. Being around her is like being around light when you’re used to dark places.
I’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree. She’s amazing company. Even when that fucktard made that shitty comment to her, it still didn’t ruin my day. She’s incredible. She’s refreshing, and the more I’m around her, the more I wish that I had met her sooner.
“Who has you smiling so hard?” Trisha’s voice brings me back to the situation before me. Once again, the beige walls of the mediation room come back into focus. I place my phone back down on the table in front of me.
“Just a friend,” I reply, using the same words she once used with me, when I asked her about the whispered phone calls and the late-night text. That was before I caught her riding that dude’s dick.
Trisha glares at me and I even get a glimpse of that green-eyed devil I haven’t seen since my days of playing ball. I couldn’t even talk to another woman without her getting jealous back then. It seems that little trait is still there.
“We could argue this in court, even though the sale of purchase is dated before your marriage,” Michael states. “However, I would hope not to have to take it that route, seeing as Mrs. Anderson—”
“Lovewood,” Trisha says with a smirk toward me. “I go by my maiden name now.”
“Um, okay. Seeing as Ms. Lovewood’s infidelity was the reason for the divorce, I think the house and the boat are a very generous offer. Again, as I said, you’re very welcome to take this to court, and hope the judge will look past the infidelity.”
Fucking yeah, Michael. He perfectly just owned her ass.
Trisha and her lawyer both look like they just sucked on a lemon. The lawyer leans into Tris
ha and whispers something to her that makes her shake her head. That’s right Trisha, take this loss.
When they’re done talking the lawyer leans away from Trisha and looks over to Michael. “We’ll come back to the topic of the car. I think any judge will find her actions understandable under certain circumstances.”
“And what circumstances are those?” Michael states.
The lawyer sneers. “Abuse.”
“Undocumented abuse.”
“He was court ordered to attend anger management.”
“I think his actions that night were due to the situation Ms. Lovewood placed him in. In fact, I have the recommendation from his therapist right here.” Michael pulls out a sheet of paper that I hadn’t seen and hands it to the mediator. “As you can see, she is clearing him. She states that in her professional opinion, Mr. Anderson is no threat and doesn’t display uncontrollable violent tendencies.”
Trisha’s lawyer reaches for the paper out of the mediator’s hand. He and Trisha both scan the paper.
“Who’s this Sienna Washington?” Trisha asks. “Is she even accredited?”
“More than you’ll ever be.” I can’t help the quip.
She narrows her cornflower eyes at me, then turns back to her lawyer.
“We would like to keep this information, if you don’t mind,” her lawyer says.
“Not a problem, I have copies,” Michael replies with a smile.
“Alright, as of now it’s in agreement that the house and the boat will be split amongst the two of you. If there are no further developments, you will both sign this agreement and you will have your court case set sometime within about six months.”
“What about the car?” Trisha argues. Her lawyer touches her hand and shakes his head. Trisha is fuming mad when she gets to her feet.
After signing the agreement Michael and I head out of the door to the parking lot. The moment he and I are away from everyone, we give each other a fist bump.
“That went well. I knew they were going to try to do something to get you riled up, but you played it cool.”