7. Peyton
CHAPTER 7
peyton
I gripped the edge of the wooden table, trying to keep myself from hurdling over it to smack Braxton across the face. Mr. Llewellyn’s legal pad showed more crossed-out notes than actual writing. Every tactic had been smacked down faster than a bad episode of WWE. Yesterday’s humiliation at the nursing home felt like nothing compared to watching Lane Dorian, Braxton’s lawyer, pace dramatically in front of the judge.
"Your Honor," Lane said, her heels clacking against the floor. "Mrs. Pace-"
"Ms. Jamerson," I corrected calmly. She kept trying to get under my skin, calling me by my former married name.
"Ms. Jamerson ," Lane continued with a thin smile. “How is my client's thirteen-year-old son expected to maintain stability when his mother can't maintain stable employment?” She held up her hand as if to cut off my interruption. I’d said nothing. “But perhaps we should discuss the housing situation?"
Mr. Llewellyn—my lawyer, Llew for short—raised a hand to stop her. "Your Honor, my client has maintained the family home where her son has lived for the last nine years of his life and?—”
"Has she?" Lane held up a stack of papers. "These mortgage statements tell a different story. Ms. Jamerson fell behind on payments three months ago and the house went into pre-foreclosure.”
I slumped, my head hanging down.
Llew let out a dramatic sigh. “Because her ex-husband purposely stopped making the house payment after a verbal agreement that he would do so.”
“Your honor.” Lane whirled on her heel, heading back toward the judge. “It’s not my client’s responsibility to make this house payment. He’s already paid spousal support, alimony, and a settlement. He urged Ms. Jamerson to sell the house from the beginning and she refused.”
Yes, I’d done that. It was my dream home, and I hadn’t wanted to uproot Cash. He was devastated enough that Brax and I’d divorced. I was only trying to give him stability. The exact thing Braxton and his lawyer were accusing me of not doing.
I’d kept my finances under control for the first five years, scraping every dime and using all the money I’d gotten from the settlement to make the house payments. I’d tried to go back to school and get a higher paying nursing degree but it was too much working full time and being a single mom. Against my better judgement, I’d gone to Braxton and asked if he’d help me out with the house payment. Imagine my surprise when he eagerly agreed.
But that man was a bigger viper than Lemon’s ex-husband. I should’ve known there would be strings attached. One string really: he wanted me back. He wanted to get remarried, move back in, sleep in my bed, and he wanted me to forget his affair ever happened.
I would literally rather die.
When I finally told him that six months ago, he’d stopped making the payment altogether.
Llew glanced at me, silently apologizing. The man was a lawyer, not a genie.
Braxton’s lawyer kept pacing. “The only reason the home wasn't lost entirely was because Mr. Pace stepped in to protect his son's home environment.”
My jaw jutted, my blood boiling. “Is she serious?” I hissed to Llew. “She’s painting him as a hero?”
“Keep it cool, Peyton,” Llew urged. “You know that’s how they roll. This is nothing new.” It wasn’t.
Judge Hadley frowned, her lips puffed with disapproval. "Mr. Pace has been making the payments?"
"My name is still on the mortgage,” Braxton spoke up from his side of the table, his voice carrying that same smooth confidence that had once charmed me. "I couldn't let my son lose his home.”
"And now?" Hadley asked.
“Now,” Lane said. “Mr. Pace has ceased payments, as Ms. Jamerson refused his attempts to discuss a more permanent solution for their son's stability.”
“A permanent solution?” I burst out, unable to help myself. “Is that what we're calling blackmail now?”
“Ms. Jamerson,” Judge Hadley warned.
“Calm and collected,” Llew whispered.
But I couldn’t sit there helplessly while Lane made Braxton look like a saint.
“He said he'd only keep making the payments if I took him back.” The words tumbled out in a rush. "He tried to use my son's home to manipulate me into remarrying him.”
“That's not what happened,” Braxton said in an irritatingly calm tone. “I simply suggested we explore reconciliation for Cash's sake. When Peyton made it clear she wasn't interested in putting our family back together, I realized I couldn't keep enabling her unstable choices."
“Enabling?” I half-stood, but Mr. Llewellyn pulled me back down.
Judge Hadley held up her hand. "I've heard enough. Ms. Jamerson, your current situation concerns me deeply. No stable income, pending home foreclosure, and what appears to be a pattern of poor judgment, as evidenced by yesterday's incident at your workplace."
I felt the blood drain from my face. I was going to lose Cash. And my house. But Cash was all that really mattered.
“Meanwhile, Mr. Pace has maintained steady employment, owns his own home outright, and has demonstrated consistent concern for his son's welfare.” The judge removed her glasses. “Given these circumstances, I'm awarding temporary primary custody to Mr. Pace.”
The room swayed slightly. “No!” I cried.
“Ms. Jamerson will have visitation every other weekend and one evening per week. This arrangement will be reviewed in thirty days.” She looked directly at me. “Ms. Jamerson, I strongly suggest you use this time to secure new employment and stable housing. This court's primary concern is Cash's welfare. Do you understand?”
I nodded numbly, not trusting myself to speak.
“We're adjourned for fifteen minutes,” Judge Hadley announced. “When we return, I want to see transition plans arranged.”
As soon as Judge Hadley left, Mr. Llewellyn stood and walked out of the room. Brax’s lawyer was already on her phone.
Braxton stood and straightened his tie. "Peyton." His voice was softer now. "It didn't have to happen this way."
I stared at the grains on the wooden table, wanting to vomit. That stupid, patronizing, gentle tone was the same one he used every time I freaked out about his affair. “Don’t talk to me,” I hissed. “Don’t you ever speak to me again.”
He sighed as if I were being dramatic. “Have it your way.”
I shoved back from the table and hurried toward the door, planning to head to the restroom and sob in the nearest stall. But standing in the doorway, wearing a grim expression that told me he’d heard it all, was Holden, Ford’s older brother. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. He was the Seddledowne District Attorney. This courthouse was his second home.
I gave him a bleary-eyed smile as if everything was right with the world. Nothing—absolutely nothing—was right with the world.
Holden stepped directly in my path and pulled me into a hug. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. You know the Duprees will rally around you. Cash is practically an honorary Dupree grandchild. Maddie keeps calling him her cousin.”
It was true and it just hurt. My own family wouldn’t rally. They were about as helpful as sandpaper on a sunburn. Mom would tell me to move to Orlando with them.
Moving back in with my parents was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. But now that they’d sold my childhood home even that wasn’t an option anymore. I’m about to be homeless. The thought made me whimper.
“Hey.” He patted my hair. “Chris and I have an apartment over the garage you’re welcome to. It’s the in-law suite. For whenever they visit.” He chuckled. His in-laws were about as trifling as my ex-husband. I wouldn’t want them in my house either. “Or Lemon and Silas fixed up that studio over their barn, but I’m sure you know that.”
I stepped back and smiled through my tears. “Yeah.”
He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me.
I blew my nose.
“You can keep it.” He chuckled.
I tried to laugh but I couldn’t. “What do I do, Holden?”
“Listen.” He gave me a soft smile. “I’ve seen enough custody cases in this courthouse to know how Judge Hadley thinks. Right now, Braxton has all the stability markers—home ownership, steady job, consistent income. Hadley is looking at measurable factors."
"So I'm supposed to pull a job and a house out of thin air in thirty days?"
“I know, I know. I’m simply telling you the facts. You need immediate, documented stability. The kind that changes your situation quickly. Things like joint tax records, a property deed.” His left brow curved up toward his hairline. “A marriage certificate.” He knew about all of Ford’s proposals. All the Duprees knew. “Those could carry more weight than a new job or rental agreement.” He tapped his chin. “Do you have any rich uncles who might die in the next thirty days?”
The bleakness of my situation tried to pull me under. But I’d felt this despair before. Some people might throw their hands in the air and sink with the ship. I didn’t have that luxury. There was a darling thirteen-year-old boy—big blue eyes, a crooked grin, and shoulders that were growing broader by the day—who was depending on me.
I stared at Holden, my fingers pressed to my lips. "Are you suggesting I get married?"
He chuckled again. “I’m suggesting you think like a lawyer instead of a mother right now. Emotions won't win this." He checked the time on his smartwatch. "Judges favor established patterns over promises. They want to see stability that's already in place, not stability you're planning to create."
“There’s no rich uncle. No land inheritance on the horizon. So I probably need to marry somebody. Fast. Somebody with money and a house.” The World’s Most Beautiful Ring flashed into my mind. A proposal that had seemed careless a couple of days ago now felt like the quickest and smartest solution to all of this.
But the secret.
If Ford finds out, he may never forgive you.
You need to tell him, even if he doesn’t.
But If you marry him to regain custody and then he finds out, he might kick you out. Then you could lose Cash all over again.
Ford wouldn’t do that. He’ll forgive you. And when he does—when the truth is finally out—maybe you can be a real family. Like you’ve always wanted.
I cowered at that last thought.
I never let myself dwell on that dream. Not really. It seemed like a fairytale. Like Lemon’s happily ever after. Or Christy’s. But not mine.
No. Peyton Belle Jamerson didn’t get a happily ever after…because Peyton Belle Jamerson was a suck magnet.
Every decision I’d made, every path I’d taken, every piece of my heart that I’d given away…it all turned to ash.
Except for Cash.
He was the one bright spot in my life. The one thing I’d gotten right.
And I. Could. Not. Lose. Him.
If I married Ford I’d have stability to burn. Not just a house, but an entire ranch. A husband who’d be a good dad to my son. If I married Ford, it would make Braxton’s situation look like child’s play.
I pressed my hands against my cheeks. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to marry Ford, would Hadley see his past drug addiction as a problem?”
Holden smiled. “Doubtful. Hadley adores Ford. Ford sponsors Hadley’s nephew and paid for his entire rehab stay.”
My eyes snapped to his. “I didn’t know that.”
He chewed his lip, fighting back a grin. His sparkly eyes told me he was loving watching me finally see the light. “There's probably a lot you don’t know about my baby brother.”
I scowled. “You’re not going to tell him about this conversation, are you?”
“Nope. None of my business.” He checked his watch again. “I gotta head back. I have an appointment in three minutes. Keep me in the loop? And seriously.” He aimed a finger pistol at me. “If you decide you don’t want to do anything drastic and you need a place to stay…”
“I’m going to tell Ford you said marrying him would be drastic.”
“I’ll plead the fifth.” He grinned. “See ya, Peyt.”
As I watched him walk away, I wondered. Maybe I’d been wrong about Lula eating the ring.
Maybe this was my sign?