by Jade Kerrion
The other woman’s questions and fears continued to plague Valeria when she returned to the car. Could the hospitals really decide to stop treating Peter if they realized he could not pay? Gabriel would know, of course, and she had to talk to him about Peter’s wish anyway. For the second time in as many days, Valeria found herself driving to Gabriel’s workplace.
The labyrinth of fiberglass and steel suited him perfectly, the façade as sleek and cool as his professional demeanor. The glass doors slid apart to let her into the reception area of Brickstein and Felder, which occupied the fortieth floor of a business tower overlooking Central Park. An elegant young woman, her hair swept back in a chignon more suited to a night out at the opera, offered Valeria a trained smile. “May I help you?”
“I’d like to see Gabriel Cruz.”
“Do you have an appointment, ma’am?”
He’s worked in a small and elite professional firm for twelve years, and yet, none of his colleagues knows me. Had Gabriel hidden her away, or had she hidden herself away?
Did the semantics matter when the outcomes were the same?
She drew her poise around her like a shield. “I’m his wife.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “I…will let him know you’re here. Please, have a seat.” She reached for the phone.
Valeria did not want to sit—her restless energy did not permit it—but there was a certain poise and appearance she felt compelled to maintain, so she took a seat, crossing her legs.
Not a moment later, the receptionist stepped around her desk. “Mrs. Cruz, if you would follow me, I’ll show you to his office.”
Valeria was conscious of the sharp click of her heels against the gleaming marble tiles. She nodded politely to the people she passed in the corridor, but all she received were openly curious glances in return. The atmosphere was cool to the point of being chilly. She was so put off by the lack of welcome that she practically barged into Gabriel’s office.
He stood up. “Val, are you all right?”
“Yes, yes. I just needed to talk to you.”
Gabriel looked past her and nodded to the receptionist. “Thank you, Rachel.”
Rachel’s eyes gleamed with interest, but she politely closed the door and departed.
He came around the desk and took Valeria by the arm. “You need to sit. You don’t look all right.”
“I…” In that moment, it was easier to accept his support and relax against the familiar warmth and strength of his body. She allowed him to lead her to a chair in the sitting area next to the large windows that overlooked Central Park.
“I’ll be back,” he promised.
She sank into the smooth leather and focused on regulating her breaths. Where had that near-panic attack come from? It was entirely uncharacteristic of her to be so deeply affected by the regard or disregard of others. Perhaps it was because she was in his domain, and the apparent disregard of his colleagues stung harder than the indifference of strangers.
She looked out of the window, her throat tight. The view, she acknowledged, was fantastic. Her appreciation of it, in that moment, however, was severely lacking.
Gabriel’s footsteps did not make any sound against the plush carpet. “Here. Be careful, it’s hot.”
Confused, she looked down at the steaming mug he had placed carefully on the table in front of her.
“Chamomile tea,” he said.
“Thank you,” she murmured. How did he know she only drank chamomile tea? A coincidence, surely.
His eyes were narrowed in his fine featured face. He sat across from her. “What brings you here?”
“I saw Peter Brown today.”
The lack of recognition in his face reminded her that she had given him no background information on her Make A Wish recipient.
“He’s an eight-year-old boy with cancer. The Make A Wish Foundation asked me to help source his wish. He wants to be a judge for a day, and I was wondering if you knew of any judges who work in environmental law.”
“I do.” His tone betrayed a faint hint of confusion.
“Can you ask if any of them might be willing to help out with this wish? The foundation will help cover any expenses.”
“I’ll reach out to them.” He paused. “Is this why you came?”
“I…” She drew a deep breath and reached for her tea. She sipped slowly and allowed the fragrance to fill her nostrils, and the warmth to infuse her lungs. Through it all, she was painfully aware that her husband was staring at her as if she were a stranger and that she was taking up Gabriel’s precious time. “When I spoke to Peter’s mother, she said that she was worried that the hospitals would stop treating Peter if they found out that they couldn’t pay. Can the hospitals do that?”
“No, they can’t,” Gabriel said firmly. “Don’t the Browns have insurance?”
“Yes, but it’s with a new company when Peter’s father got a new job after a lapse in coverage. Apparently, the insurance said they wouldn’t pay because they said it was a preexisting condition.”
Gabriel frowned, but said nothing.
“They’re just out to rip off those who can’t defend themselves.” Valeria sighed.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
Gabriel looked up. “Come in.”
The door opened, and a petite young woman looked in. “I have the urgent reports you wanted, Gabe. Shall I put them on your desk?”
“Yes, please, Josie. Thanks.”
Josie stepped across the room, her sultry gait set off by the swaying of her hips. She tossed her blond hair back over her shoulder.
Every nerve in Valeria snapped to high alert. Valeria glanced at her husband, who was browsing on his smartphone. He may not have been focused on Josie, but there was no question that Josie was trying to attract his attention. The backward glances Josie cast in his direction and the faint, cloying smile on her lips confirmed it.
Valeria fought down the swirl of nausea in her stomach as Josie excused herself and left the office. “Who is she?” Valeria asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
“Who?” Gabriel looked up and glanced around. “Oh, that was Josie. She’s a summer intern and helps Susan, my paralegal, with legal research.”
If he was interested in Josie, Valeria could not hear it in his voice. Either Gabriel was not even aware of Josie’s flirtations or he was a practiced liar.
Valeria released her breath in a shuddering sigh. Gabriel was a lawyer. All evidence pointed to him being a practiced liar.
Gabriel looked at Valeria. “Did you have any time to consider possible options for the trip?”
She glared at him. “I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t going.”
“Look, Val.” He leaned forward in his seat and reached for her hand. She pulled it out of his grasp. Hurt flicked across his face but vanished quickly into his cultivated aplomb. “All I’m asking for is this one weekend. Making partner is what we always wanted.”
“What you always wanted, Gabriel,” she said.
“And what did you want?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“I don’t know.” She shot to her feet to pace the breadth of his office. “If I knew, don’t you think I’d be doing it now? I just know that this isn’t enough.”
“You wanted time away together.”
“With the kids.”
“And we will go away with the kids. But I want time with you too.”
She laughed, the sound bitter. “Don’t make it sound nobler than it is. It’s a partners’ retreat. What you want is a woman on your arm.”
“Not any woman. I want you on my arm. We did this together, Val. Don’t you see? This is our celebration, our milestone—”
“You’re so good at twisting the words, making me come out as the bad guy. The person who isn’t a team player. Just because I have sense enough to realize that our kids need us and we can’t just leave them to go off gallivanting for the weekend doesn’t make me the bad guy.”
“No.” He frowned. “T
hat’s not what I’m saying. Damn it, Val.” His temper snapped. “All I’m saying is that we can probably find a way to spend a couple of hours in Napa Valley without the kids.”
“You go. I’ll stay.”
“But—”
“What the hell is your problem? I’m not getting in the way of your promotion. I’m not getting in the way of your retreat. Why can’t you just respect the fact that I just don’t want to go?”
Gabriel stiffened. “It’s not the children, then. They’re just an excuse. It’s me.”
She retreated, recoiling into herself and looking away. “And what if it is?”
~*~
The words on the card flashed through his mind.
Happy anniversary. I want a divorce.
Of course, Valeria had been upset the night of their anniversary, the night he had failed to return early enough to spend time with her. What had he been supposed to tell her—that he had been on his way out the door when the hospital called to tell him that his client, Lily Herald, had been admitted to the emergency room? She had been shot by her husband whom she was divorcing. Lily had no family or close friends in the New York area; hell, he was just her lawyer, but he was the closest thing Lily had to a friend. It had fallen to him to rush to the hospital to console Lily’s distraught two-year-old toddler until Lily’s parents arrived from Boston five hours later to take the child.
He should have called Valeria, but in the panic of the moment, it had completely escaped his mind. All he could do after that was salvage the situation. He thought he had talked her off the ledge with the use of obvious logic. Hadn’t they agreed on the vacation as something they would do together? Hadn’t she promised that she would talk to him if she were unhappy?
But there it was again. He had seen it happen time and time again with his clients—the emotional withdrawal and the corresponding physical reaction. She was barricading herself. She was cutting him out of her life.
Oh, God, I can’t lose her.
He stared at her. She met his gaze, her chin lifted. The uncertain woman he had talked away from the ledge two nights earlier was now a confident and defiant woman. She met his eyes without flinching.
I’ve already lost her.
He replayed the trailing end of their conversation, praying that he had misheard, that he had misinterpreted her somehow.
“It’s not the children, then. They’re just an excuse. It’s me.”
“And what if it is?”
Gabriel straightened. He could feel the tension in his jaw. “You mean it, don’t you?”
He could almost see his actions reflected in her. She, too, stiffened—cold, controlled, and distant. It was his usual response to stress, but at that point, he could not unbend enough to reach her in the way he needed to, in the way he knew she needed and wanted to be reached. At that point, he could hardly breathe through the crushing weight on his chest.
Valeria set down the cup of tea and stood up. She gathered her handbag and clutched it against her chest like a shield. She turned and walked away from him. He thought she would leave without a word to him, but she paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder. A sad smile flicked over her face. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Valeria’s meeting with Gabriel solidified her intent in her mind. She and Gabriel had drifted so far apart that she could not find any middle ground with him. Even their children did not seem enough. She braced herself and called another college classmate, Geraldine Moffat.
“Hey, sweetie,” Geraldine’s syrupy voice oozed at her. “So good to hear from you. How are you doing?”
Valeria stumbled through the prerequisite chitchat as quickly as she could and got to the reason for her call. “I wanted to ask you about your last divorce.”
“What about it, dah’ling?”
“You said that you were pleased with your lawyer.”
“Yes, he was wonderful. Managed to get me more than the pre-nup would have allowed for. I call him the piranha.”
“Does he answer to any other name?”
“Brandon Smith. Why, dah’ling? Why do you need a divorce lawyer?”
“A friend of mine is asking.” The lie did not even tremble on her lips.
“Just refer her to Gabe. He’s exceptionally good. I would have gone to him, except that his hourly rates, I think, are even higher than Brandon’s.”
“Brandon kept your extremely high-profile divorce quiet. That’s what my friend wants too.”
“Ah, privacy. Of course.” Geraldine offered up a phone number. “Just have your friend mention I made the referral. He’ll take good care of her.”
“Thank you, Geraldine.”
Valeria disconnected the call. For several moments, she stared at the phone number. Was she ready for it? Surely a conversation—a single conversation—could not hurt. She called the number to make an appointment to see Brandon Smith.
She was surprised when the receptionist offered to get her in the same day. There had been a cancellation, and Mr. Smith had an open slot in his schedule in the afternoon. Would she like it?
Would she? Valeria hesitated on the cusp of the decision. “Yes.” The words rushed out of her mouth. Something in the vicinity of her heart ached as if someone had stabbed her through the chest. “I’d like to see him today.”
~*~
Brandon Smith’s office was located in a high rise on the edge of Greenwich Village. Its clientele reflected its surroundings—yuppies, celebrities, and the nouveau rich—compared to the clients of Brickstein and Felder, who acted as if they had come over on the Mayflower, had had their money for generations, and were apparently mere heartbeats away from being ennobled by the queen of England.
The likelihood of running into someone who knew Gabriel was slim here at the law firm where Brandon worked.
“Mrs. Cruz, if you’ll come with me.” The receptionist, no less pretty and no less efficient than the one employed by Brickstein and Felder, showed Valeria to an office that offered a view of Washington Square and the young people milling around, enjoying the last bit of afternoon sun.
“Mrs. Cruz.” Brandon Smith stepped out from behind his desk. He shook her hand, his grasp firm and strong. He was a good-looking man a few years younger than Gabriel. “Mrs. Moffat called me and told me to expect one of her friends. What can I do for you?”
“I…” She inhaled deeply. “She told me you’re a good person to talk to if I want a divorce.”
Brandon nodded. “I’d be happy to help. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a chair and took the seat across from her. “May I offer you a drink?”
“No, I’m all right.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I take notes?”
“No, of course not.”
“How long have you been married, Mrs. Cruz?”
“Twelve years now. We married the day after my husband graduated from law school.”
“Your husband’s a lawyer? What does he specialize in?”
“Family law. Divorces.”
Brandon chuckled, the sound without humor. “It looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me. Where does he work?”
“At Brickstein and Felder. He’s on the verge of making partner.”
“It’s a good firm.” Brandon paused. “Wait, would your husband be Gabriel Cruz, by any chance?”
She nodded.
“Ah,” Brandon said. He said nothing else, but that sound offered a wealth of meaning, none of which Valeria could decipher.
“Do you know him?”
“Not personally, which is just as well, or I would have had to turn your case over to another associate.”
“I don’t want it to be complicated,” Valeria said.
“Divorces are, by their very nature, messy.”
“I want something quiet, and I’m told you’re good at quiet. I’m not trying to hurt Gabriel or damage his career—especially not now.” Not when his grand plan is on track.
Brandon frowned slightly. �
��Do you want a divorce or just a separation?”
Valeria drew a sharp breath. “I’m not certain.”
Brandon nodded, scribbling notes. Oddly, his silence encouraged her to go on.
“Do I have to decide now?” she asked.
“No, of course not. If you want, I can prepare both sets of papers, and you can select the one that you feel more appropriate. It’s not unusual for your frame of mind to shift as time progresses. Often, what you’re looking out of the divorce changes too. Do you have any children?”
“Two. An eight-year-old and a five-year-old.”
“And you’ll want primary custody of them?”
“Yes, of course, but I want Gabriel to be able to see them at any time.” Diego and Marlena still needed their father.
Brandon nodded. “And assets? An even split, or do you want to try to take as much as you can?”
It was unthinkable that she would take as much as she could. “I’m not trying to hurt him.”
Brandon’s head snapped up. His dark eyes searched her face. “All right,” he said quietly.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Not at all,” Brandon said. “You sound like a woman who wants a second chance for herself while minimizing the hurt to the remaining people in the marriage—including your husband and your children. Divorce shouldn’t be about revenge, although unfortunately, too many people wield it that way. Tell me what you think you want.”
He took notes as she described the life she wanted for herself, life after Gabriel. It was hard to wrap her mind around it; Gabriel had been a part of her life for more than twenty years. When she finished speaking, Brandon’s office lapsed into silence.
He stared at notes he had taken and inhaled deeply. “You realize you’re asking for hardly anything at all when any responsible lawyer could make an excellent case of taking half, if not more, of his assets, plus full custody of the children and substantial child support.”
She stared down at her diamond rings. “I know.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears.