Cin perked up. “We do? What kind of good news?”
“For starters, your prenup is nothing but a stack of paper,” I replied. “Pat lays out some pretty harsh terms, but those terms only come into play if you sue him for alimony, or some other kind of spousal or child support. According to Tom, you can file for divorce at any time, and walk away with only what you brought to the marriage.”
“Which means everything I left him with,” Cin said. “Almost everything of mine—really mine, not bought for me by Patrick—is either in my safe deposit box, or a storage unit in Larchmont.”
I looked up from my phone. “Storage unit? When did you set that up?”
“It all started right after Britt left for college,” she replied. “At first, I just wanted to move Britt’s things someplace out of the way, and keep them safe for when she got her own apartment. I started out bringing stuff to my parents’ place, but their condo doesn’t have a lot of extra space. Then Dad suggested that I should rent a storage unit, and Mom mentioned that if we kept it in her name, Patrick would probably never know about it.” She paused, and took a sip of her latte.
“So it began with me moving Britt’s things out of Patrick’s house, and little by little my things followed. It’s still in Mom’s name, and I give her cash every few months to cover the rental fees.”
“Why did you feel the need to move Britt’s stuff out in the first place?” I asked. “Isn’t Pat’s house a mansion?”
“It is.” She stared out the window for a moment. “I didn’t want him to have access to Britt’s things, be able to find anything he could use against her. As for my things…I hated it there. Yes, it’s a mansion, and yes, my body was well taken care of, but my soul was dying. After I moved what really mattered out of Patrick’s house, I felt like I wasn’t there either. It was…better.”
God, to be trapped with a psychopath like Patrick for almost ten years, one so bad you had to hide your real self…I don’t know how Cin had done it. Instead of asking, I leaned over the table and kissed her quick.
“What was that for?” Cin asked, startled.
“For coming back to me.”
Cin smiled and laced her fingers with mine. “Well, thanks for taking me back.”
“Any time, baby.” I returned my attention to the email; for a quiet guy, Tom sure appreciated the written word.
“Tom also points out in his delicate Midwestern-speak that you’ve already violated the prenup, and possibly voided the whole thing,” I added.
“Really?” Cin asked. “How?”
“There is the lengthy portion detailing how you’ll be sent out in the cold if you cheat on him,” I replied. “Since you’re pregnant by no action of the Dickless Wonder, that’s a pretty sound case for you wandering off the reservation.”
Cin giggled. “Dickless Wonder. I like that.”
“Tom thinks that, based on the baby, this should be a simple cut and dried case.”
“I could have left him at any time,” Cin said, gazing out the window at Main Street. “That bastard had me convinced that there was nothing I could do.”
“Bastard is the word I’d use for him,” I said. “Tom recommends hiring an attorney instead of filing the divorce petition ourselves. He’s asking around his lawyer friends to see if any are admitted in Massachusetts.”
“Awesome,” Cin said. “I wonder how long the process takes.”
“Who knows.” I scanned the rest of the email, then I set my phone on the table. “The rest of his email is about Britt.”
“What about Britt?”
“Apparently, those brothers are well within their rights to file suit against Britt,” I said. “What’s complicating matters is that they’re saying that Britt helped them get the other girls, and Britt has admitted to knowing at least one of them. If they win this case, it could result in more criminal charges against Britt.”
“God.” Cin put down her mug and held her head in her hands. “Why is this happening? Why are they even letting Patrick get involved in that case? He’s not a criminal defense attorney. He works with corporations, filing forms and things. I don’t think he’s ever even been in a courtroom, at least not as long as I’ve known him.”
“We’ll get past this,” I said. “Tom said that he’s going to talk to Sam later today, see if they can’t arrange some type of a conference with both parties and a judge and get this all taken care of without a hearing. Now that Sam is involved in the suit, Laura’s throwing her hat in the ring too.”
“Sam?” Cin looked up. “They’re dragging Sam into it too?”
“He’s in hotter water than Britt,” I replied. “He worked for the older brother, that photographer, for over a year. They’re claiming that there’s no way Sam could have been Nash’s assistant for that long without knowing what was going on in the studio after hours.”
“I knew that, about Sam working for him,” Cin said. “That’s how Britt met Sam, at a photo shoot for a book cover. The novel comes out next Tuesday.” Cin withdrew her phone and sent a text.
“Ordering the book?” I asked.
“I asked Britt if Sands Romance dropped her as a cover model,” she replied. “They hired her for an entire series.” Cin’s phone beeped, and she checked her messages. “Britt is still modeling for them.”
“What does that prove?”
“Maybe something. Maybe nothing. Maybe if a major publisher is keeping her on the books, it gives her story more credibility.” Cin shook her head. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll start by going home, and picking out a room for the baby,” I said. “I’ve got tons of things left over from the girls, we should go through that and see if there’s anything we can use.”
“Will Emily be all right with that?” Cin asked.
“Being that I bought nearly all of it, I don’t see why not,” I replied. “Besides, it’s not like the girls are going to shrink down and wear their newborn clothes again.”
Cin nodded. “What about Britt, and…us?”
“Tom’s looking into the legal things, and we should let him handle that, for now at least. As for Britt, I think she and Sam should decide on their own what their next steps should be.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, no more depressing talk today.” Cin slid her hands across the table and grasped mine. “So what do you think? Girl or boy?”
“Based on my track record, probably a girl,” I replied.
“A boy would be nice,” Cin said. “Imagine a snuggly little guy we could dress up like a superhero.”
I brought her hand to my mouth, kissed her knuckles. “I guess we’ll just have to be patient, and see what this little guy or gal wants to be.”
Cin smiled. “Patience. Now that would be a great name.”
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Cindy
Present Day
Despite what Sean said about setting our current and pending legal woes aside for the rest of the day, as soon as we got home he was on the phone, calling everyone he knew and asking for lawyer recommendations. I took to the internet for help, and started with my former classmates that I’d lost touch with after I moved to New York. I hoped that one of them had gone on to law school. It wasn’t long before I reconnected with one of my old friends.
“Do you remember Beth Marconi from high school?” I asked Sean when we sat down for lunch later that afternoon. “We had homeroom together, and English.”
“Wasn’t she on the soccer team too?” Sean asked; trust the former athlete to remember someone by the sport they’d played. “Yeah, she was cool. What about her?”
“Well, I’ve been emailing with her all afternoon,” I replied. “She’s an attorney now, and she’s admitted in both Massachusetts and New York. Connecticut too, but that doesn’t really matter in our case.”
“Serendipity itself,” Sean said.
I rubbed my chin. “Serendipity…”
Sean moved to stand behind me. I angled my laptop so h
e could read my and Beth’s emails. “We are not naming the baby Serendipity.”
“I didn’t say anything about naming anyone anything,” I said. “Maybe a middle name, though.”
Sean gave me a look, then he jerked his chin toward the laptop’s screen. “Anyway, is Beth interested in helping us, and Britt?”
“She is, and her rates aren’t that bad,” I replied. “I’ve sent an email introduction between Britt and Beth. Hopefully she appeals to Britt and Sam. I’d love nothing more than to get this mess behind us.”
Sean kissed my shoulder. “Me too, baby.”
***
I don’t know if Beth had recently lost one of her clients, or if she was really that eager to help an old friend, but she coordinated a meeting with Britt and Sam for the next day. Apparently the three of them were compatible, and after Sam wrote a hefty retainer check to Beth’s firm, the three set up more meetings. I was shocked to learn that Sam had taken it upon himself to add a little extra to Beth’s fee, in order for her to help me with my divorce.
“Sam did not have to do that,” I said to Britt when we spoke later that day. “I can fight my own battles, you know.”
“Sam appreciated you finding her for us,” Britt replied. “Besides, adding on this service with Beth will be cheaper than if you hired your own attorney.”
“She’s not even a divorce attorney,” I said.
“All she has to do is file paperwork,” Britt said. “How hard can that be?”
I recalled Patrick’s desk, forever hidden under mountains of paperwork, and the endless parade of legal assistants and messengers that came and went from his office, and our home. They were all vital to keeping his evil empire running, and Patrick in his millions. God, when I thought of the shady deals he must have made to fund those vacations, the house and cars, Aggie and the rest of the staff…
“Mom?” Britt asked. “You still there?”
“Yes.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I was off woolgathering.”
“Mhm. Listen, Patrick’s as good as gone. Beth’s confident that he’s just filing things to irritate us. This will all be over soon, for both me and you.”
I glanced across the kitchen to the fridge; Leslie had dug out my and Sean’s senior prom photo and placed it front and center. I didn’t know if I loved or hated her for that. “I hope you’re right, Britt.”
***
It wasn’t long after Britt and I spoke that Beth called the house to give Sean and I an update of sorts.
“Cin,” Sean bellowed from two floors down. “Beth’s on the line for you.”
“Okay.”
I shut my laptop and headed downstairs. I found Sean standing in the kitchen with the cordless receiver in his hand. I thought it was just adorable that he still had not one, but two landlines.
“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the phone. “Did she tell you anything?”
Sean’s brows lowered. “Better hear it from her.”
I frowned back, then I set the receiver to my ear. “Hi, Beth. Sean says you have some news?”
“Do I ever,” she replied. “When you asked me to look into this bogus lawsuit, I figured nothing would be happening. I mean, it takes years for murder cases to get to trial, never mind lame defamation cases like Sullivan’s trying to pull. The thing is, with these suits you need to keep the media machine going, you know? Most of the time these suits are decided in the court of public opinion instead of before a judge and jury.”
I sat heavily in a kitchen chair. “And?”
“And, our friend Attorney Sullivan has figured out how to get around the inevitable lag time between filing suit and the initial trial,” Beth replied. “He’s going to hold a press conference.”
“A press conference?” I repeated. I glanced at Sean, but he just shrugged. “He can do that?”
“Anyone can hold a press conference,” Beth replied. “All you have to do is contact media outlets, tell them what the conference is about and the day and time, and hope some people show up. Sullivan’s scheduled this conference for next Tuesday at nine a.m. I’ve asked Britt and Sam to watch it here in my office. If you’re able to, I’d like you and Sean to be here as well.”
I looked up at Sean. “Beth wants us in the city, nine a.m. on Tuesday. For Britt.”
Sean withdrew his cell phone from his back pocket and started punching in numbers. “Tell her we’ll be there.”
“I heard,” Beth said. “Listen, I have some things to prep. If we don’t talk before Tuesday, I’ll see you then.”
Beth disconnected, and I set the phone down on the kitchen table just as Sean did the same with his.
“Ma’s agreed to take the girls Monday through Wednesday,” he announced. “That way, Emily won’t have to miss class.”
On any other day, I’d have commented on how Sean bent over backwards to accommodate Emily when she did nothing but take advantage of it. Instead, I kept my opinions to myself and nodded. “What do you think will happen at this press conference?”
Sean blew out a breath. “Based on Pat’s track record, you can bet nothing good.”
***
Sean and I spent the next few days preparing for our trip to New York. Not only had Sean’s mother agreed to stay at the house with the girls, he had also rearranged the shop’s schedules so that all of his shifts were covered. That resulted in Sean’s assistant manager, Kyle, taking on an ungodly amount of overtime, but Kyle took it in stride.
As for me, I had downloaded and completed a complaint for divorce from the state website. The papers were for an uncontested, no-fault divorce, and I didn’t think for a second that Patrick would sign them. If Patrick was anything, he was a contester. But I figured that by starting this way, it would show that at least I had attempted to move on in good faith. Maybe whatever judge ended up taking on our case would take note of that, and look kindly upon me.
I hope whatever judge Patrick and I end up in front of up was not in Patrick’s back pocket.
Since the press conference was scheduled for Tuesday morning at nine, Sean and I decided to drive down to the city the day before. Not only was the morning commuter rush completely unpredictable, both Sean and I wanted to get a solid night’s sleep before facing whatever fiasco Patrick had planned. Of course, when I’d called it a pending fiasco, Sean accused me of being fatalistic. I wasn’t anticipating the worst, I’d just had a lot—too much in fact—of experience dealing with Patrick and his games.
Britt appreciated that we were arriving the night before, and invited us to have dinner with her and Sam at Astrid’s fiancé’s new restaurant. When we reached the New York Thruway, I asked for the restaurant’s address. Sean rattled it off, and I entered it into my phone’s GPS.
“When did Donnie purchase this place?” I asked.
“I don’t know if it’s his yet,” Sean replied. “According to Sam, he’s partnered up with the owner of his current place, and they want to open a second location. I think we’re going to be eating a test dinner tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Test dinner?”
“You know, Donnie’s trying out the staff, testing the waters.” Sean glanced at me. “Don’t tell me this legal nonsense has destroyed your appetite. I know for a fact you could eat a side of beef right now.”
“I’m not that hungry,” I said, but I was damn close. We’d had a late breakfast before we set out, and Leslie had made us a cooler of snacks and sandwiches for the ride down. Being that she had raised four boys, she knew how to feed a crowd. I’d eaten every last bite before we reached the New York state line.
“There’s nothing wrong with a pregnant woman being hungry,” Sean said. “Just means our baby’s growing fast and strong.”
“I suppose.” I settled back in the seat, then I twisted around and checked the cooler one more time. Still empty.
“Want me to stop for snacks?” Sean asked.
“No, no,” I said. “I’ll live.” I wrapped my arms around myself and suppressed a shudder. “It
’s weird being in New York again, you know? I really thought I’d never come back here.”
“Not even to see your parents, or Britt?”
“All of them have always preferred Massachusetts. Smart people.” The traffic got a bit denser, which was logical since we were almost at the first toll on the Thruway. “God, I can’t wait to get back home.”
“You and me both, baby.” Sean got the car into the proper lane, and we inched toward the toll booth. “What’s our time? I want to check in at the hotel and drop off our bags before we start navigating around Queens.”
I checked the time on my phone, and said, “We should have plenty of time.”
***
Well, we’d had plenty of time to get to the hotel and then the restaurant, but I’d forgotten that Sean drives like a normal person, not a New Yorker. After the hilarity that was us finding the hotel was over—it ended well, with us checked in to our room and our luggage properly delivered—he let me drive to the restaurant. When I parallel parked his pickup on one of those skinny Queens side streets, the look on his face told me he’d fallen in love with me all over again.
“You really are the perfect woman, you know that?” he declared as we exited the truck.
“Remember that when I’m the size of a whale and crying uncontrollably,” I said, remembering my last few weeks carrying Britt. “Better yet, buy me an automatic. Or a car made in this century.”
Sean snorted; he was about as likely to give up the pickup as disown Britt. I looked toward the restaurant, and saw that it was a pretty nice place. It was on the first floor of a brick building, and had an outdoor patio bordered by wrought iron fencing. There was a scattering of cute round bistro tables and matching chairs, window boxes waiting to be planted, and the red and white umbrellas were already out. Attached to the fence was the sign, and the restaurant’s name was not what I expected.
“Donato’s,” I said, reading off the name. “I thought Donnie was just considering this location?”
Changing Fate (Changing Teams Series Book 3) Page 16