Chapter Sixteen #3
“Thank you.” Maggie clutched the card. I swallowed a scoff. File for a protective order? Like a piece of paper could keep her safe.
Maybe I’d move in with her, since I was leaving Jase. I’d keep both her and my little boy safe.
“He won’t be able to bond out until at least the morning, so you don’t have to worry about him tonight.” He lifted a finger in farewell and turned away.
I watched him walk to his patrol car, aware of Maggie’s stricken expression. She didn’t have to worry tonight.
“Come on,” I murmured, easing her away from the door and nudging her toward the bedroom. “I’ll make you some of that lemon ginger tea you like. It’ll help.”
She looked at me, wide-eyed. “Tyler, what am I going to do?”
“Tonight, we’re going to calm down and try to get some sleep.” Right. Now I was lying. Neither one of us would sleep after this. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do next. Maybe I’ll move in with you.”
Wrapping her arms tight around her, she frowned at me. “You do not need to move in here.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Go get in the bed, under the covers so you’re warm, and I’ll bring your tea.”
In the kitchen, I stuck a mug under the faucet and shoved it in the microwave.
Rummaging around, I found her tea bags. Maybe I’d beat Noah’s ass myself.
Not like I hadn’t had to throw hands with a male before.
It had been years, but still . . . muscle memory.
And he was weak. A good threat might do it.
Jase would have a fit if he knew what I was thinking.
I drew up short.
It didn’t matter what Jase thought. He didn’t matter anymore. I was done with the messiness surrounding him. My baby was getting a neat, structured, easy life.
Elizabeth Hall giving birth to his half-sibling before he was even born, having access to his father, to his life?
I clutched the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
No way I was letting that happen to him.
At one o’clock the next day, I parked next to Maggie in the parking lot at Scott Barlow’s law office, a converted Craftsman house on the street behind the bank. I’d ignored two texts, two phone calls, and one voicemail from Jase before work, although I’d stopped short of blocking him.
But I meant I would walk out of this office with what I needed to end our marriage and protect my baby.
Even if I couldn’t make myself take Jase’s rings off my finger. I’d played with them all morning, spinning the diamond round and round, the way my brain wanted to spiral ever since the afternoon before.
Maggie hugged me before we walked up the concrete path to the steps, and she opened the door, old hinges protesting as we stepped inside. The skinny hardwoods creaked under our footsteps, and the caramel-blonde at the desk in the big room beyond the foyer smiled at us. “Tyler?”
“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes, studying her. She was familiar . . . she dated Jase’s buddy Tate. And was Elizabeth Hall’s sister, the one she’d demonized with her social media channel. I stiffened. Had they made up? Would she know I’d been here?
“Hey, I’m Hannah. We spoke on the phone earlier.
” Her voice was calm, soothing, but I didn’t relax.
Maybe I should have already called Mama Nancy, let her help me find a lawyer, but I needed to handle this on my own.
I was going to be somebody’s mama, and good mamas took care of things.
Rising, she came around the desk to usher us toward the open door to the left. “Mr. Barlow is ready for you.”
Through the doorway, I glimpsed Scott at his desk, wearing another white dress shirt and another bowtie, this one burgundy with thin navy stripes. He rose as Hannah walked us to the door. “Hey.”
Maggie smiled at him and rubbed my back. “You remember my friend, Tyler? Sweetie, this is my friend Scott Barlow.”
I tried to smile, but my lips pinched into a pained grimace. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course.” He waved us toward the pair of nail-studded leather chairs in front of his desk. I sat, tucking my feet under the chair and clenching my hands in my lap. He settled behind the desk and looked at me. “Tell me how I can help you today.”
My knuckles ached. The light danced over Jase’s great-grandmother’s engagement ring, picking out small scratches on the gold band.
The same light glinted off my shiny new wedding ring.
We hadn’t clocked enough time together yet for it to have scratches.
Maggie angled toward me, tension bracketing her mouth.
Concern darkened her eyes, but fear lingered there, too, from last night.
I sucked in a breath and straightened my shoulders.
I had to handle my own bullshit, so I could help her with hers.
“I’ve been married a few weeks. I’m pregnant.” Somehow, I clenched my fists even tighter. My rings bit into the side of my finger. “Can I get a divorce with supervised visitation?”
He didn’t even look surprised, although his right eye twitched a little.
“Okay, let’s back up a little bit. You can absolutely get a divorce now, but the custody part really doesn’t come into play until the baby is born.” His voice even and calm enough to make me want to scream, he jotted a couple of notes on a pad. “You said you’d only been married a few weeks.”
I nodded. “We were seeing each other. I got pregnant, so we decided . . .”
My voice broke. It sounded so stupid now, so naive. Get pregnant and marry the guy, thinking you’d live happily ever after while you built something beautiful. Life didn’t work like that. Maggie chafed my shoulder, her gaze on my face.
“Anyway.” I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head on. “His ex is pregnant. I don’t want her anywhere around my baby.”
“I see.” He sounded like he did. Maybe he saw Elizabeth Hall for what she was. “Let me ask you this . . . if she wasn’t pregnant, would you want out of the marriage?”
I crumpled, all my dreams deflating. She was ruining everything. “No.”
“Okay.” He had a no-nonsense voice, but the dry tone held a gentle note, too. Something about that blend made my eyes prickle. “Georgia is a no-fault state, so you don’t have to cite a reason. But what I’m hearing is that the marriage isn’t the problem. She is.”
Anger flashed through me, singeing my nerve endings. “She’s an awful person.”
“She acts like it, I know.” When I cast a startled glance at Maggie, he lifted a hand. “Small town and her sister works for me.”
I squinted at him. “Is that why you won’t help me?”
He held his index finger aloft, a little bit of chiding in the gesture.
The move rang genuine, though, not condescending like too many school principals I’d encountered who wanted to silence me with a raised finger.
“I never said I wouldn’t help you. But it’s my job to help you explore all your avenues.
Divorce can be a knee jerk for a lot of situations.
It might be your ultimate solution, but we want to make sure. ”
A beat passed.
“Have you and Jase talked about what happens after your baby is born?”
I moistened suddenly dry lips. “No.”
“Does he want a divorce?”
Every muscle I had turned to stone. “He doesn’t know I’m thinking about it. I left when he told me about . . . about her.”
“Okay. So here’s my suggestion.” Sympathy flashed over his face before he clasped his hands on the blotter and steepled his fingers.
He had strong hands, like Jase, but without a callus in sight.
“I’m going to put you on my client list. That means Jase can’t come to me as a client. He’d have to get his own lawyer.”
“All right.”
“Wait for the rest of it.” He gave me a smile I suppose was meant to be reassuring. Nothing reassured me right now, though. “Talk to Jase. He’s had a couple of days, like you have, for the information to start to settle.”
With me eyeing him askance, a pause hung in the room.
“Discuss how you both feel about continuing the marriage, how parenting your baby looks, what you both want.” He ticked the items off on his fingers.
“After that, you still want a divorce? Come back and talk to me. And here’s a little free advice—go back to the marital home.
I don’t care if you sleep in another bedroom, but if we do end up before a judge, I’d like for you to have been in the house before that. Do you have questions for me?”
“Can I keep her from my baby?” More than anything, I needed that. She could not be near him. He had to be safe, sheltered, secure.
“Absolutely. Don’t think you’ll need me for that, though.
I’ve known Jase a long time, and he’s like his grandaddy when his mind’s made up.
You and him get on the same page about her not having access to your child—and I can’t see why she would because he can coparent their child without involving yours—he’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. ”
I flinched. Their child.
“I’m sorry you’re navigating this.” He snagged a business card from the silver tray on his desk and scrawled on the back. “This is my personal number. Text or call me if you think of anything.”
“Thank you.” Maggie smiled, a grim little expression that wasn’t her normal at all, as I leaned forward to take the card and examine it. Relief in her voice, she squeezed my arm. “We appreciate your help.”
He pushed up from his chair. “I’ll walk out with you.”
I sat a moment, staring at the card. I’m sure he meant to be helpful, but really all I had was an assurance that I didn’t have to let her near my baby.
But go back to the house?
Get on the same page as Jase?
We’d been there, before her. I’d trusted him, when it was easy between us.
Trust him now, with her influence pushing in, threatening?
I didn’t know how to do that.
My resolve hardened while Maggie walked with me to my car and hugged me before I slid behind the wheel.
I’d take his advice, go back to the house – not home now, not anymore – so my baby’s interests would be secure.
I ignored the little voice insisting in a whisper that Jase would secure him, no matter what.
Back at work, I went through the motions, answering phones, connecting customers to sales people and the service department.
And I hardened my heart, taking all the soft feelings I’d developed for Jase and locking them away.
I knew how this worked. When life got tough, I couldn’t afford to be anything but hard.
At the end of day, I drove back to the house, grateful to find the carport empty. Of course, he was in a field somewhere. Work didn’t stop because our marriage had.
Inside, I cut through the spotless kitchen and living room, almost running down the hall to the master bedroom.
I hadn’t changed anything there since the night we’d first slept together, other than to move my clothes in, but we’d talked about redecorating.
I was glad now that we had focused on the baby’s room first.
It was easier to walk out of a room that had never really been mine.
Flinging open the closet, I grabbed as many of my clothes as I could, draping them over my arm.
I marched to the bedroom next door, across from the baby's room and shoved the clothing in the closet.
The room was quiet and dim, an old-fashioned white bedspread on the queen bed, its fringe brushing the floor, a quilt folded over the rocking chair in the corner.
I went back for another load and another, and when the closet was empty, I lugged my clothes from the dresser drawers and shoved them into the smaller dresser here.
While I was gathering my things from the master bathroom, the back door slammed and his footsteps – muffled by his thick socks because he left his boots outside by the back door – thudded through the kitchen.
“Tyler?” His voice, hoarse with relief, rang through the house.
Clutching my makeup bag, I sucked in a steadying breath, shoved every soft and sweet thing I’d ever felt for him deep, deep down, and squared my shoulders.
He was home, but I wasn’t. I never would be home here again.