14. Harmony
CHAPTER 14
Harmony
I put the baking dish in the oven at the same time the knock comes on the door. I wipe my hands on the dishrag before heading to the door, stopping to check with Wyatt, who is in the living room doing his homework. I look out the window to make sure it’s not Winston before walking to the door and pulling it open. Brady stands there, his back to me, giving me a couple of seconds to take in his broad shoulders and perfect ass. He turns around, and my eyes fly up to his face. “Hi,” he says, “I was going to text you but figured I would come over and tell you.”
“Okay,” I reply, moving to the side, “do you want to come in?” I try not to look at him for longer than I should. I’m embarrassed beyond words when it comes to Brady for so many fucking reasons. The last one is crying in his office.
He steps in, and I motion with my head for him to follow me. “I was just going to have some tea,” I say, and he walks a couple of steps before he stops and spots Wyatt.
“Hey, buddy,” he greets him, his voice warm and strong, “how’re you doing?”
“Good,” Wyatt responds. “Doing homework. Mom says I can only go outside and play after I do my math.”
He smiles at him. “Sounds like a good mom to me.” He looks over at me, and Wyatt doesn’t agree with him but looks down at his book.
"Do you want some sweet tea, or would you like water or something else?” I ask Brady when he steps into the kitchen. My hand is on the handle of the fridge as I watch him look at me.
“I’m fine,” he assures me, and I have to wonder if he’s trying to get the fuck out of here as fast as he can.
My hand goes off the handle of the fridge. “I got the number,” he informs me and holds out his hand with a white paper. “She’s waiting for your call.”
My feet move to him until I’m standing in front of him. The smell of him makes my knees weak, and my stomach flutter. My hand comes up and grabs the paper from him. “She’s not from around here.”
My heart speeds up, and I’m almost afraid to ask any questions. Even if I wanted to ask him something, it feels like there is a baseball stuck in the middle of my throat. “But she’s willing to take your call.”
My eyes look at the white paper. “Brady,” I whisper, “I don’t know.”
“Just call her,” he urges me.
“Um.” I open the paper to see the phone number written on it. “Do you think maybe you could take Wyatt out of the house?” My voice goes low. “I don’t want him to hear what is going on.”
He doesn’t answer me. He just nods, and I watch him walk to the living room. “Hey,” he says, “Mom said I can take you out to play catch.” Wyatt gasps. “That is, if you want to.”
I try to take in the goodness that is my son. “Are you almost done?”
“I have one more,” he replies. Brady looks over at me and tries not to smile but fails. It takes Wyatt a couple of seconds to jump up. “Done.” He comes running to the front door, putting on the sneakers he kicked off once we got home, and grabbing his glove that is on the floor beside said sneakers. “Ready.” He looks up at Brady, who looks at me one more time before following my son out of the house.
I watch them walk to the side, Wyatt’s mouth moving while he says something, and Brady just listens to him. I turn back, pull my phone from my pocket, and sit down at the table, dialing the number on the paper. My chest rises and falls as I feel like I’m going to throw up. The woman answers after one ring, “Ryleigh Richards.”
“Hi,” I say softly and then clear my throat. “My name is Harmony. I got your number from Brady.”
“Harmony,” she sings my name as if we are long-lost friends, and I’m calling to catch up, and not because I’m calling to hire her to be my lawyer, “I have been waiting for your call.”
“Um, I want to thank you for taking my call.” I look out the window at Wyatt running for the ball, a huge smile on his face.
“I spoke to Brady,” she begins, “but how about you fill me in a bit more?”
“Sure,” I start to say and fill her in, not skipping over anything.
“So for the past six months has the divorce been finalized?”
“No,” I huff. “I’ve been trying and trying; he refuses to sign the papers, and my last lawyer wasn’t in a rush.”
“Well, it’s a good thing,” she says, “because now I’m here, and I’m going to make him wish he’d signed those papers six months ago.”
My eyes go wide. “He owes you back child support, plus alimony, plus I want to go after him for emotional damage and distress.”
“Um,” I say nervously, “I don’t think you understand who we are talking about.”
“No, I don’t think they understand who they are talking about,” she snaps. “They have no idea who they’re up against. I will tie them up in so much fucking litigation that they will be begging me to give in.” She laughs. “God, this is going to be fun.” And I swear I can see her smile over the phone. “I think I have everything I need from you. If there is anything else, my secretary will call you, and if not, I will.”
“Um, Ryleigh,” I hesitate, “we haven’t spoken about how much this will cost me.”
“That’s the fun part of this,” she chirps, “I’m also suing them for lawyer fees.”
“But what if you lose?”
“Oh, I’m not going to lose,” she declares confidently. “There is no way in hell I am going to lose to them.” She exhales. “And if I do, then we’ll talk about it.”
“Okay, should I send you a retainer?”
“Done already.” She shocks me, and my eyes fly to the window. “I’ll speak to you soon. Expect an email in a couple of days.” She quickly hangs up the phone, and I just sit here with it to my ear. Her words echo in my ears. Done already . What does that even mean?
Pushing myself from the table, I walk over to the window at the side and look out. Brady spots me and says something to Wyatt, who nods at him and starts running to the front door.
The front door swings open, and I see Wyatt coming in, his cheeks pink as he pants out, kicking his shoes off. “Brady has to go to work,” he announces, and I get up from the table as he storms into the kitchen to grab something to drink.
“Mr. Thatcher,” I remind him, and he looks over at me while Brady fills the doorway.
“He told me to call him Brady.” He grabs the iced tea I made this afternoon.
“You okay?” Brady asks from the front door, and I look over at Wyatt before walking to him.
“Yeah, she said the retainer was taken care of,” I ask him, and he puts his hand in the back pocket of his jeans while my eyes go to his meaty thighs. “What did she mean by that?”
“I have to get to the bar.” He avoids answering the question. “See you tomorrow,” he says. “Later, Wyatt!” he shouts to the kitchen.
“Later, Brady!” Wyatt hollers back as if he’s been doing it his whole entire life.
Brady takes one more look at me, his eyes staring into mine, leaving me breathless as he walks out the door and closes it behind him. I watch him walk across the lawn to his house, getting into the truck and taking off. My chest squeezes when it comes to me that no one except for Mr. Mendelson has cared about what has happened to me in the last six months. Not since my father has passed away has anyone really fucking given a shit. The thought alone makes the tears fall over my lower lids.
“You okay, Mom?” Wyatt asks softly from beside me. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear him come out of the kitchen.
“Yeah, baby,” I confirm, wiping the tears away from my face and smiling at him. For the first time in a long time, I think I am okay. “You hungry?”
“Yeah.” He watches me, smiling and skipping to the kitchen. He eats two plates of chicken and potatoes, and bedtime is quick tonight. It always is quick when it’s a full day of school, plus he played outside before and after dinner.
I sit on the stoop in my shorts and tank top, telling myself I need to get my ass back into the house. There is no fucking way I should be sitting on my front porch waiting for Brady to come home. My life is complicated enough without dragging him into it, but nothing will stop me from talking to him tonight. The clock turns nine on my phone when the headlights come down the street. My eyes watch, waiting, then I see the red truck drive by. I can see his head looking at me as he pulls into his driveway.
I hear the truck door close before I see him walking around the truck and stopping to stare at me. “Hey.” I get up, holding up my hand. “Do you have a minute?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he just walks over, and the sound of the grass under his boots fills the night. “Everything okay?” he asks when he gets close enough.
“Yes,” I say, “I was just…” I put my hand on my stomach to help with the jitters. “I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” His voice is husky.
“Okay, fine, I don’t owe you an explanation.” I rephrase the sentence. “But I want to explain it to you.” I watch him at the bottom of the steps, and I sit down, knowing my legs will probably give out on me when I tell him what I’ve been practicing to say to him for the past two hours since I’ve put Wyatt to bed.
“Okay,” he agrees, walking up the steps and taking a seat beside me. I wonder if this is better that he did this since I won’t have to look him in the eye. But then he sits down, and I feel him beside me. I can feel the heat of his arm near mine, and all I want is for him to put it around my shoulders and pull me to him. I shake my head to stop that picture from staying in my head. “Talk.”
“I met Winston when I just turned eighteen,” I start. “Two months later, my father died. My mother was never really in the picture.” I look out into the darkness as I tell him, “He was perfect. A little too perfect, if you ask me.” I chuckle. “That should have been his first red flag,” I try to joke and look at Brady, who is staring at me. I wish I had kept the light on the porch on so I could see his eyes, feel the warmth from them. “He was seven years older than me. Too old for me, but I was in love with him. He supported me when I was in school and helped me with rent. He was everything you would want in a man. Until he wasn’t. I knew I had made a horrible mistake when I found out he was cheating on me six months after we got married. He promised me it was a onetime thing. Said he would never do it again. Being me and being stupid and na?ve, I believed him.
“By the time I had Wyatt, it was over. Literally. He fucked one of the nurses while I was in labor. In fucking labor, giving birth to his son, and he’s out in the hallway closet fucking the nurse. The nurse thought I was sleeping, so she flaunted it all for everyone to hear.” I feel the disgust fill me. “Then it was like he didn’t even try to hide it. The women were on every single fucking corner. I went to his mother after six months. Sat down with her and poured my heart out to her. Thinking, I don’t know, she would be disgusted by her son. But she laughed it off and said she would talk to him about being more discreet.” I look over when I hear what sounds like a growl coming from beside me. “It lasted a whole two weeks. Then the whispers would start again. I mean that, along with the fact the women who would literally come to our house looking for him. Wyatt was a year old, and it was his birthday when the doorbell rang, and an eighteen-year-old was standing at the door, telling me she was having his baby.”
“Harmony,” he says my name, his voice cracking.
“I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she had the baby or not, but I never saw her again. For the past six years, I’ve been planning my escape from him. It had to be slow, and I had to be smart about it. I had no job, and all the money was in our joint account. I couldn’t just take it and leave. So I started to save, spent money on clothes because he wouldn’t question it, and then returned them, pretending I forgot my card so they would give me the cash back. Six fucking years, Brady, I had to pretend to be a loving wife. I had to listen to them plot their revenge on everyone but themselves. I had to sit at the table with them spewing hate, hoping like fuck Wyatt would not hear it or fall for it. Two years ago, I went to visit them less and less, but at that point, Winston was a full-blown alcoholic and too busy getting his dick wet to notice.” I turn to him, the tear hitting my bare leg. “I just want to be free of them.”
“Harmony,” he murmurs my name, and this time, he pushes the hair away from my shoulder to my back. His finger then trails from my ear to my collarbone. “Baby.” My stomach flutters when he says that, “Harmony,” My name is on his lips in a whisper. My body comes awake as he bends and kisses my neck. It’s the softest kiss I’ve ever gotten, and it’s a kiss I’ll never forget.