37. Brady
CHAPTER 37
Brady
T he judge walks back in and pulls out her chair, and her eyes go to Mr. Belfast. “So what’s it going to be, Mr. Belfast? Are you going to continue with the claim that the child isn’t his?”
“Your Honor,” Mr. Belfast starts, “my client is very emotional over this whole ordeal. He’s been trying to see his son and has been blocked at every single corner.” I look from the lawyer to Winston and my hands fist. What I would do to him if I had even one minute. I look up to the ceiling, counting to ten like my father told me to do to see if it calms me down, but instead it just makes me even more furious.
“Your Honor,” Ryleigh refutes, “the last time Mr. Cartwright tried to see his son was over two weeks ago when he showed up inebriated and was arrested at the scene.”
“He was distraught,” Mr. Belfast quickly snaps back and the judge holds up her hand, “but he is not going to challenge the paternity.”
“Okay, we’re going to go through this one step at a time.” She doesn’t give them a chance to say anything more. “Now, we need to come to an agreement regarding a reasonable and customary amount for child support and alimony.”
“This woman is ruining my life,” Winston not so quietly hisses out. “Why is the judge a woman?”
My eyes shoot to the judge, who leans back in her brown chair. “Is there a problem, Mr. Cartwright?” Her eyes are narrowed now.
“No, Your Honor,” Mr. Belfast answers for Winston.
“Because, surely, I did not just hear you question my gender.” She looks at Winston, who is staring back at her like the idiot he is. “I’m positive that I didn’t hear that.” His face turns beet red because not only did someone put him in his place, but it’s a woman who is doing it.
“No, Your Honor,” he replies with clenched teeth.
I look over and see Casey lean back in his chair and try to hide his smile. I know exactly why a new judge, who just so happens to be a woman, was assigned to this case. That is because he did some investigating, and it was confirmed there was possible bribery corruption between Winston’s parents and the original judge. Ryleigh stirred the pot so the judge recused himself from the case.
“Based on Mr. Cartwright’s tax return,” the judge says, looking at her papers, “Mr. Cartwright claims he made seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars last year.” Harmony gasps out, and I look over at her, and I can just imagine what she’s thinking. Here she is living paycheck to paycheck, baking cakes in the middle of the night to help pay for things, and this motherfucker is rolling in dough.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Belfast responds, “that was last year. His salary has decreased this year as his role has changed.”
The judge looks up at him. “Mr. Belfast.” She smiles at him. “Are you going to tell me that his parents, who I’m assuming own Cartwright Construction, demoted their child and stripped him of a salary?” She laughs at the idiocy of it all. “If it doesn’t make sense, it’s because it’s not true.” She shakes her head. “Now let’s start with that,” she says, writing something down, then she looks over at Ryleigh. “I believe it’s fair Mrs. Cartwright gets one hundred and fifty-seven thousand dollars a year.” She doesn’t even look up, even when there are grumbles coming from Winston’s side. “And I am going to make sure that we do this yearly.”
“Your Honor,” Mr. Belfast tries to say but then sits down.
“Now, I see that they have a couple of properties together.” The judge flips through the papers.
“All were acquired before they were married,” Mr. Belfast refutes.
“Mr. Belfast,” the judge declares, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She drops her pen, putting her elbows on the desk. “This case is open and shut, and even you know it.” She shakes her head. “Don’t go there with me.”
“I would like a different judge,” Winston finally snaps and stands up, his chair flying back. “Someone who?—”
“Someone who—is what?” the judge asks him.
“Someone who knows what they are actually talking about.” He throws up his arms, pulling a tantrum like a child.
“Mr. Cartwright, sit down!” she snaps at him, taking off her glasses. “I’m not sure why you even hired a lawyer since you continue to disregard your own counsel sitting next to you by repeatedly interrupting this proceeding. However, since you are dead set on acting like a lawyer, let me give you a brief explanation on the rules of civil procedure. I know in your world, you’re used to being catered to, and it’s clear you aren’t used to being told no.” Winston’s face goes so red, it’s almost like one of those cartoon characters who get all red in the face, and you can see the steam coming out of their ears, right before their head explodes.
“However, in the legal world, and in my courtroom, you don’t get to stand and demand a new judge. It simply doesn’t work that way. Therefore, you will not be getting another judge. Not that I need to prove anything to you, but I’ve been a judge for the past fifteen years and my rulings have been fair, impartial, and unbiased. Again, don’t come in here and think this is your courtroom”—her voice stays at the same tone—“because it’s not, it’s mine. As my grandmother used to say, ‘I’m not dancing by your music.’ Now”—she picks up her glasses—“this is strike two and one more strike, not only will I hold you in contempt, and it’s the weekend, but I will fine you five thousand dollars, which I will make sure is donated to a women’s shelter.” She smirks. “I would hate for you to be in lockup all weekend long. Shall we go on or are you contemplating going to law school so you can debate me later?”
He stares her down, and her eyebrows go up, waiting for him to say something. “Yes,” he hisses.
I look over at my father, who looks like he’s smirking as the judge goes through numbers and shit. She gets half of the house or whatever it’s worth, along with a portion of the properties. Let’s just say, there will be no need for her to be working at the bar.
I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees, waiting for the child custody part. “Mr. Cartwright,” the judge calls to him, “your wife left you eight months ago.” I don’t know if she is asking him a question or not, but he just looks at her. “That is two hundred and forty-three days, and in all those days, you’ve seen your son twice.” She looks up at him. “Harmony Cartwright will retain primary custody of Wyatt with supervised, court-appointed visits every second Sunday of the month. We can revisit this in six months. Also, lawyer fees are to be paid by Mr. Cartwright.”
Mr. Belfast looks like he needs a drink, and Mr. Cartwright gets up and storms out of the courtroom. The judge doesn’t even bat her eyes when she picks up her gavel and announces that it’s over. I had my head hanging down, but as I look up, the tension leaves my body as Harmony gets up and looks over at Ryleigh, who hugs her.
She smiles at her, and Winston’s voice goes up. “She took me to the fucking cleaners, and all you did was just sit there and let her take it.”
“What would you have liked me to do?” Mr. Belfast fires back.
“Your fucking job,” Winston hisses, and I look back at Casey, who just laughs.
I spot Harmony walking past Ryleigh, and I’m out of my chair. “Just for the record,” she says to Winston, “Ryleigh wasn’t able to enter this evidence last minute without getting in trouble with the judge because, unlike your attorney”—she looks at Mr. Belfast, who is now running his hands through his ever-balding hair—“she’s ethical. But I had two paternity tests performed, and Wyatt is your son. If you don’t believe me, take some of his hair from his hairbrush in that ridiculous shrine your mother has in her living room and get your own DNA test. I’m positive it will show that it’s a ninety-nine point nine percent match.” My mouth opens, as does everyone else around but Ryleigh and Casey.
“You f—” He stops when the lawyer slaps his hand on the desk.
“Don’t be stupid,” he snarls, “you’re in a court with witnesses.”
“I don’t care,” Winston hisses at him.
“Funny,” Harmony notes, “neither do I. Now I’m finally free of you.” She turns and comes to me with a huge smile on her face. When she is close enough, I wrap my arm around her waist. “Did you hear?” she asks me, putting her hands on my chest. “I got custody.”
“And a boatload of money.” I kiss her lips.
“I couldn’t care less about that,” she retorts. “Now let’s go get him.”
“Celebration at my house,” my father announces. “You get the cake, and we’ll go get Wyatt.”
We all laugh as Ryleigh comes over to us. “Well, I’ll be heading out,” she says. “This was a lot of fun.”
“Ryleigh,” Harmony responds, “thank you so, so much for everything. I know I couldn’t have done it without you.” She hugs her.
“You come and visit soon, and we’ll take him to a hockey game,” Ryleigh suggests, looking at Matthew and Max, and they smile at her as the three of them walk out.
“Okay, listen, I don’t want to rush anyone,” Autumn interjects, “but my baby needs food.”
Two hours later, we’re in the middle of the backyard with Wyatt and me tossing the ball to each other. “So now what happens?” he finally asks, and I look at him as he looks at his mother.
“Do we move back into the other house?” I stop with the ball in my hand midair.
“It’s time Brady has his house back, don’t you think?” Harmony replies, and she avoids looking at me. Wyatt doesn’t say anything either. He just passes me the ball until Harmony stands up. “I have to get ready for my shift.”
“I marked you off,” I tell her, and she looks at me, “and myself.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Well, for one, you were going to court, and for two”—I toss the ball to Wyatt—“I was thinking maybe your head wouldn’t be there.”
“Oh, can I go back to Charlie’s?” Wyatt asks.
“No,” Harmony snaps, “I don’t work, so you stay home, and then maybe tomorrow you can go over.”
Wyatt tosses me back the ball as he looks at me and then his mother. “Are you and Mom boyfriend and girlfriend?” I look over at Harmony who goes ashen white.
“Yup,” I say, tossing him the ball without missing a beat.
“Yeah, I thought so since I see you guys kissing all the time.” He catches the ball and throws it back to me.
“We don’t all the time,” Harmony pants out.
“You okay with this?” I ask him, holding the ball in my hand.
“You make Mom happy,” he says and I nod at him, “and she’s never scared with you.” I see Harmony put her hand to her stomach. “So I’m okay with it, plus you never yell at me or call me stupid and dumb.” He shrugs. “So yeah, I’m okay with it.”
“Thank you,” I tell him and he looks at me with confusion on his face, “for taking care of her for so long.” He nods his head. “Now I get to take care of both of you.”
“Cool,” he says, tossing me the ball like we didn’t have a deep and meaningful conversation right now.
“Cool,” I repeat what he says and look over at Harmony who exhales a deep breath.
We leave right before dinner, but everyone is still full when we get home. “Shower,” Harmony instructs Wyatt as soon as we walk in the door, “right now before you touch anything.”
Wyatt doesn’t even say anything to her. Instead, he just walks up the stairs. “When are we going to go back to the other house?”
“Probably tomorrow,” Harmony answers, and I slam the door closed behind me, making her jump. Wyatt walks up the steps with his head down. I try to calm myself by walking to the kitchen, and for the first time in a long time, I grab my whiskey.
“Is there a problem?” she asks softly as she stands there with her hands in front of her.
“Yeah, there is a problem.” I put the bottle down after taking a pull. “You aren’t leaving this house,” I declare as I take another shot.
“Brady.” She takes a step forward.
“You aren’t leaving this fucking house.” I walk around the island counter. “Because now that you are in it, it is exactly why I built this house.” I close the distance between us. “For you and for Wyatt. I didn’t even know it at the time, but now”—I put my hands on her hips and pull her to me—“having the two of you here, I see that it’s all been for you.” She puts her hands on my chest. “Stay with me?” I move one hand to hold her neck. “Move in with me.”
“But…”
“Build a life with me.” She blinks, and a tear falls down her cheek. “You, me, Wyatt, let’s build a life with each other.”
“I don’t want to go.” We both turn and see Wyatt there with his own tears in his eyes, and he quickly rubs them off. “I don’t want to go back to the old house. I don’t want to go to the house before that. I want to stay here.”
“Wyatt.” She turns to look at him.
“I want to stay here with Brady,” he states, trying to be brave.
“Come here, buddy,” I urge him, holding out my arm. He doesn’t want to come but comes anyway. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” I take him in my arms, and he turns his head on my stomach and hugs me.
I look over at Harmony. “Okay,” she says softly, “we’ll stay.”
“It’s a good thing you agreed to stay.” I grab her, pulling her to me, then whispering in her ear, “Because I was going to handcuff you to my bed until you agreed to it.” She looks at me, and I see her cheeks getting pink. “Do you want that?”
“Does she want what?” Wyatt asks, and I look down at him.
“Cake,” Harmony covers, trying not to get him to ask more questions.
“Gosh, no more cake,” Wyatt says. “I’m caked out.”
“Okay, shower,” I remind him, “and then we redecorate that bedroom tomorrow.”
He nods and runs out of the room, a lot better than he was a bit ago when he walked up with his head hanging. “So”—I pull her to me—“handcuffs?” There in the middle of my kitchen, I kiss her without the notion of her leaving hanging over our heads. Without the notion of her ex showing up. I kiss her knowing she’s never going to leave this house. That, in this house, we’ll eventually become man and wife and our kids will grow up here. Where they will take their first steps and their first tumble, where we will live forever.