Rough Love

by Landish, Lauren

  My eyes narrow and I rumble menacingly. “Those the only options?”

  His shit-eating grin tells me he wants the story, no matter what. I growl but give in. “Fine. Though you’re worse than the gossipy moms.”

  He shrugs and interrupts, “Jamie’s waiting on the good gossip when I get home.”

  “To use Allyson’s word, we’ve got history.” I even do the air quote thing with my fingers. “We were high school sweethearts, serious. Even thought she was The One. Then she went to college and shit changed. That’s it.”

  He looks surprised. “That’s it? Are you fucking kidding me, man? That woman was about to eat you with a damn spoon and I thought you were going to throw her over your shoulder and run out of here like a caveman. Hell yeah, I’d say there’s history, but there’s some present too.”

  I look across the field, immediately picking Allyson’s curvy figure out in the group of mothers and sons heading to the parking lot.

  She’s avoiding me. None of the other moms talked to me tonight either, and I don’t think that about them in the least. But Allyson? Yeah, I know she purposefully didn’t say one word to me, which pisses me off and makes me hungry for her all at once.

  I huff a laugh. “Less than you’d think. She yelled up one side of me and down the other. I think she decided we’re going to ‘be adults’ and play nice for the kids’ sake.”

  “You agreeing with that plan of action?” Mike asks hesitantly. “Don’t let her run you off. I need you, man. The boys need you.”

  I meet his eyes. “I’m not letting her run me off. I’m the damn assistant coach of the Wildcats and that’s what I’ll be as long as you let me or until the season’s over. My word’s good.”

  “Thank fuck. I was scared I was gonna lose you. Actually, I was afraid it was some one-night stand thing that was going to make everything really awkward. If you start doling out dick, every mom is gonna line up and I’ll have a roster of dads wanting to take a sucker punch at my assistant coach.”

  He’s joking, and I laugh deep in my belly, which feels foreign but good. “I ain’t dicking the moms.” At his questioning look, I add, “Or the dads.”

  He laughs too but puffs up a bit. “By the way, have I mentioned my wife, Jamie? The one I love with my whole heart. Have I mentioned that I would kill anyone who so much as looked at her sideways, much less touched her?”

  I hold up my hands. “I’ve got no interest in your wife, Coach.” I grin wolfishly. “Wait, what’s she look like?”

  He lobs a solid punch at my shoulder, but his fist pings off the hard muscle. “It’s a good damn thing I like you. But for real, fuck your way through the moms and dads, for all I care, but not mine.”

  “You’re the one who asked me. I ain’t dicking the moms or dads,” I repeat. “Just here for the kids and the football, though I’m second-guessing that right this minute.”

  He points a finger at me like he’s going to hold me to it, and that’s just fine.

  Coach football. Avoid Allyson.

  Done and done for another day.

  Chapter 7

  Allyson

  I quadruple-check my notes one more time before the meeting. This is going to be the decision-maker for our client. Either mediation will work and we can all avoid the mess of court, or it won’t.

  One last glance, one more big breath, and I adjust my posture from sitting at my desk all day. Once upon a time, I’d dreamed of becoming a big-shot courtroom lawyer. Actually, more than dreamed. I had every step planned out.

  College, law school, marriage, kids, my own firm. I plotted every step of my life the way only youth can, with zero regard for the possibility of anything other than my dreams becoming reality.

  Back then, it was Bruce at my side when I walked down the aisle of my dreams. We’d discussed having two children, a boy and a girl. He was going to be a professional football player and I was going to be a lawyer, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  College was a rude awakening. Harder than I’d imagined, lonelier than I’d anticipated, and my plans started to disintegrate in my hands, no matter how hard I tried to hold on to them.

  Losing Bruce broke me inside and left me vulnerable for Jeremy. It wasn’t until much later that I could see that though. At the time, he’d felt like a lifeline pulling me to shore as I drowned in my sorrow. And I’d been happy, slowly becoming more and more willing to adjust my plans to include him. Jeremy was pre-law too, and I changed the sign outside my imaginary firm to include both of us . . . Silverton and Silverton, attorneys at law.

  Getting pregnant my second year of college changed everything for both of us. My redirection to becoming a paralegal was initially a huge disappointment to me, to my parents, and to Jeremy. But he’d adjusted quickly, holding my hand and promising me that we could still work together, and made everything I’d dreamed of still seem possible.

  Now, with years of experience under my belt, I can honestly say that I love my job and wouldn’t change it even if I could. Being a paralegal lets me be home with Cooper more, and it means I don’t have to worry about the bottom line the way I would if it was my name on the door.

  “Hey, Rick?” I say, poking my head into my boss’ office. “I’m heading into the conference room to prep for Gloria’s mediation. Anything you need before I’m locked in a room with her soon-to-be ex?”

  I cross my fingers on both hands, waving them around even though luck will have nothing to do with this. It’s all about my preparation and skills, both of which are beyond reproach. But no matter what, I just want this to go well for Gloria. She’s a sweet lady who stood by her husband for decades while he built a decent-sized empire, but now that he’s replacing her with a younger, perkier version, she’s ready to move on.

  Luckily, she’s not out to slash and burn her husband’s world, or Rick would be helping her because that’s his specialty. Instead, she just wants what’s fair, and that’s where I come in.

  “Nope, all good. Let me know if I need to step in, though. Use me as a threat,” he advises, throwing a few air punches. He’s not a scary-looking man, honestly, a little old, a little round, a lot bald. But he’s a pit bull, and his intimidation factor isn’t in those weak-ass non-punches but in the power of his sharp-witted and cunning mind.

  I’ve worked for Rick long enough now that we’ve developed a shorthand for the best way to handle our client roster. He takes the heavy hitters when he needs to play the ‘good old boys’ card or go aggressive for negotiations, and I handle the less dramatic cases or the ones where a soft touch is better. I won’t say I get the easy ones, but compared to his clients, I get the easy ones. It’s worked well for us both.

  “Debra? Will you show Gloria in when she gets here? But when Mr. Jacobs and his counsel arrive, call before bringing them back.”

  Our shared receptionist nods and gets up to start fresh coffee for our incoming guests. Debra is about as old-school as you get with her perfectly curled silvery gray hair, sweater sets, and sensible shoes. But damn if she doesn’t do a stellar job at keeping up with every task Rick and I throw her way. She’s a dynamite with briefs and spends her free time reading legal journals for fun. In another era, she would’ve been a lawyer herself, and a damn fine one, but being our receptionist is her second career after her three kids grew up and flew the nest.

  In the conference room, I adjust the chairs, removing the one at the head of the table. I want this to be as hospitable as possible without creating an unneeded power differential. Most importantly because I don’t want Mr. Jacobs to feel that he has any undue dominance here.

  “Allyson? Ms. Jacobs is here,” Debra says from the doorway.

  Gloria comes in, her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her. Her bottom lip looks a little raw where she’s chewing it. “Gloria, relax,” I say kindly, welcoming her in. “Today’s going to be the first step in the next phase of your life.”

  She follows my guidance and comes around to the far side of the ta
ble, perching on the edge of the chair. “I know. I just never thought this would be my retirement plan. Hell, I thought we’d be going on that trip to Greece we’d always talked about.” Her laugh is sour, verging on bitter, as she shakes her head.

  She’s still shell-shocked by the course her life has taken, but that’s understandable. The important thing is that she finds some joy in her newfound freedom. “Was Greece your idea or David’s?”

  Her eyes, which had drifted off, most likely to Greece, refocus on me. “Oh, well, both of ours, I guess, or at least it has been for years, but initially? It was David’s, I think.”

  “Well, then you get to pick. Do you go to Greece or do you go to Spain? Or Italy? Or anywhere in the world you’d like to go. It’s your choice now. Research and plan or throw a dart at a map. Take a friend or go alone and make some.” I inject as much excitement as I can into the idea, hoping she feels the infinite possibilities.

  She smiles and it almost reaches her eyes. “You sound like you’ve made that speech before. To other clients or to yourself? If you don’t mind my asking?” She looks at my bare finger curiously.

  I shrug one shoulder, not wanting to divulge too much about my own personal life. “Both, maybe?”

  Truth be told, I did have the same pep talk with myself once upon a time. I’d chosen to come home to Great Falls, even knowing that it wasn’t really home anymore. The town grew, I’d changed, and my parents had moved, but the familiarity that remained was comfortable and it felt like the right place to raise Cooper. So Great Falls was where my dart landed.

  Gloria pats my hand comfortingly, though I’m supposed to be doing that for her. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  We go over the plans, what she’s asking for and what she wants, what’s negotiable and what’s a deal breaker. When Debra calls back to announce Mr. Jacobs’s arrival with his lawyer, we’re ready.

  The conversation goes on for hours, just as we expected. Gloria and David are pretty close to agreement on virtually every point, but there’s a lifetime of items to divide. We’ve split the household items fifty-fifty, with only a minor sticking point about a vase they bought at a charity art gala.

  “Doesn’t Denice have children? It’d be a shame for such a beautiful piece to get broken accidentally. It’s irreplaceable.” Gloria’s scalpel-precise bomb is a direct hit, though she delivered it so eloquently and with such deft concern, you’d think she was actually worried about the vase. David agrees with a sigh and a wave of his hand.

  I’m impressed with Gloria, who looks clear-eyed without a trace of the uncertainty from before. It’s a front, it always is, but she’s pulling it off with spectacular believability.

  We’re making excellent progress until we get to the company ownership. Gloria wants half and it’s a deal breaker, but David wants a seventy-thirty split.

  “Are you actually serious right now?” Gloria asks him incredulously.

  David leans forward, digging a thick finger into the tabletop. “It’s my company. I worked morning, noon, and night to grow it. I’ve made every business decision since day one and it’s mine. You should be thankful I’m considering giving you any of it.” At that, the lawyer places a strong hand over David’s, forcing his palm to the tabletop. He opens his mouth in an attempt to mitigate whatever damage his client might’ve done, but Gloria’s fired up now.

  “You worked morning, noon, and night? And who was taking care of the house and kids so you could be absent all those times? Who was right there next to you when you took out that first business loan and told you we’d make good on it? Who was beside you in those early days, working just as damn hard as you were? Who listened to you discuss ‘should we do this or that’ over dinner and again at night, when you couldn’t sleep?”

  She pauses, letting all that sink in. I keep my mouth shut this time because she’s doing a better job of stating her case than I ever could and David looks to be responding to her. He’s slouching in his chair, defeated. “To be clear, you’re not giving me anything. I earned fifty percent of that company the same way you did—with hard work, faith in what we were doing, and the balls to take some big risks.”

  David’s turning a bit red, so I add the cherry to the top of Gloria’s sundae. “If we aren’t successful in mediation, we’ll have to go to court. We’ll get the fifty-fifty split almost guaranteed, but this process will be drawn out a few more months. It’s your call, Mr. Jacobs.”

  He whispers with his lawyer and then sits back. “Fine. But we’re not running it together. How is this going to work?”

  It takes us two more hours to figure out a plan for David to pay Gloria for her share of the business. She doesn’t want to work with him—or Denice, the secretary-slash-new woman—so it’s a perfect way out, if a particularly difficult one to navigate a resolution to.

  By the time we’re done, I’m exhausted, but I still shake Gloria’s hand as she preps to leave. “That’s really it? It’s over?”

  I put a gentle hand on her shoulder, reading her face. Some clients are overjoyed that whatever they’ve been through is finally done, ready to throw a divorce party, even. Others are shocked and saddened that what had started with so many hopes and dreams is truly over with the swish of a pen.

  “It’s over. I’ll file the paperwork, but barring something going awry, it’s done,” I say carefully. Gloria nods numbly, all pretense of her bravado and fight sapped out of her. As she walks out the door, I tell her once more, “It’s all your choice, Gloria. You can go anywhere and do anything. Think about something you’ve always wanted to do and go do it. Skydive, travel, curl up with a good book and glass of wine. Big or small, celebrate the birth of the next phase of you.”

  She smiles weakly and disappears down the hall. A moment later, Debra appears in the doorway. “Sorry we kept you so late. I didn’t think it’d go that long.”

  Debra shakes her head. “No worries, Allyson. But you got a call a little bit ago. Guy said he’s Cooper’s football coach?”

  My head snaps up, on guard. “What’s wrong?” A thousand scary thoughts run through my mind at once. Broken bones, concussion, car accident, even though Cooper shouldn’t be riding in a car while at practice.

  “He said that neither you nor Michelle showed up to pick up the boys after practice? I told him it’s Michelle’s day, but she didn’t answer the phone when he called her. I tried too and no answer. I offered to come get them myself, but he said they’re fine. He didn’t want to drive them over without permission but said he’d stay at the park with them until you or Michelle could come. He said to tell you, ‘No rush, we’re just feeding the ducks.’ I think he meant literally, but it kind of sounded like he was kidding when he said it?”

  My emotions, which have been on a roller coaster, take another loop-de-loop . . .

  Michelle didn’t show up or answer her phone, but she’s a nurse at the local hospital and sometimes gets stuck in the middle of a case and can’t step out. Usually, it’s no big deal and I can readily pick up the slack, but not when I’m in closed-door negotiations.

  But Bruce is taking care of the boys, something he didn’t have to do.

  And last but not least, I’m a little bit giddy at his pointed mention of ducks. He must remember that’s how we met, so is he trying to tell me something by bringing them up again? Or am I reading too much into it? It’s definitely that, for sure. Because he could probably care less about some silly stuffed duck he won for me at the fair as a memento of a dumb school speech.

  And why do I even care? I mean, not being arch enemies with him would be nice since he’s coaching Cooper, but I don’t need to go reminiscing about the good old days. Consciously, it only makes me mad about things that happened long ago, but unconsciously, if I do start to think about the past, I’m afraid I’ll wake up from another one of those sexy dreams that I cannot have. Not about Bruce, at least.

  “Shit! I’ll go right now. Can you send Michelle a message not to worry, that I’m on my way for the boys
, and she should do whatever she needs to at the hospital? I’ll feed Liam dinner and he can spend the night if he needs to. And then put Gloria’s mediation agreement in the safe for the night. I’ll file it at the courthouse tomorrow morning.”

  Debra grabs the stack of papers from my hands. “Go on, I’ve got all this. Do what you need to do to, Allyson.”

  “You’re the best!” I call out, running for the door.

  Chapter 8

  Bruce

  “Sorry you have to wait with us,” Cooper says morosely. He’s a mess of sweat and dirt, and I had to search my truck to find him and Liam a couple of granola bar snacks to feed their post-practice hunger. Even then, they gave half of the crumbly bars to the ducks that swarmed up on the edge of the pond as soon as we walked over. The ducks didn’t seem to mind the stale snack in the least.

  But all laid out in the grass with the darkness getting blacker, their bellies are starting to growl again. So’s mine, and one of the guys at home probably already snuck into the kitchen and ate the plate Mama Louise leaves for me on football practice nights. Looks like a drive-thru is in my future before I head out to the farm tonight.

  I mess up his hair, trying to stay casual. “No worries, kid.” Realizing my mistake, I make an exaggerated face of disgust and then wipe my sweat-soaked hand on my jeans. “So, how does this carpool run for you two?”

  Cooper raises his hand like he’s in school, and I lift my chin his way, giving him unspoken permission to speak. Coach’s rules still apply, I guess. “Our moms make this big official schedule. There’s a calendar meeting once a month and everything, though it’s mostly just our moms with pens, highlighters, and glasses of wine. They work on it together and then stick a copy up on both our refrigerators and keep another copy on their phones. We sneak out as soon as dinner’s done.” Liam and Cooper roll their eyes at each other, laughing at the antics of adults.