Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Leighton
I have never been this nervous in my life.
I was more at ease deciding which house I wanted to live in, my mom’s or my dad’s, when I was thirteen.
Back then, walking into the courtroom, I felt the weight of everyone’s expectations as the judge asked me questions.
Now, I feel as though I’m in my parents’ shoes, anxious that I won’t get what I want before I even enter the courtroom.
In the hallway, I spot my mom and Aunt Iris sitting on a bench. My dad is leaning against the wall a few feet away. My mom stands immediately, rushing over and wrapping her arms around me. My dad joins us, both of them competing to comfort me.
“Oh my god, leave her alone, you two,” Aunt Iris says, always my guard dog when it comes to their tug-of-war games.
I glance down the hallway and see Patrick’s dad a couple of benches away, but there’s no sign of Art or Julianna.
Every time I’ve gone through something major, I had comfort from Callie, and if not her, there was Sky.
Now, Sky is dead, and I told Callie a million times she was not to leave that tour.
My family surrounds me, yet I feel entirely alone.
They’re not the most comforting people, to say the least.
“So what’s the deal? What do we have to do?” my mom asks, her need for information palpable.
“I don’t know. Mr. Notting said I would meet him and the other lawyer here. He thinks she’s the best option, so that’s who I’m going with.”
“He should be here already. The court is supposed to hear your case in ten minutes,” she insists, worry creeping into her voice.
“I know, Mom. I just… I don’t know what to tell you.”
Her gaze shifts to my dad. “You should’ve helped her figure this out.”
Aunt Iris glares at Patrick’s dad. “I can’t believe he’s just sitting there letting us all go through this when he knows it should be you who has the kids.”
I agree. I don’t understand why he isn’t more involved either. He never was. We kind of adopted Patrick into our family, and while his dad, Art, and Julianna had their moments with us, we were rarely all together.
Just then, the elevator doors open, revealing Mr. Notting and a tall blonde with a sleek bob. She’s impeccably dressed in a black suit and heels. I glance down at my outfit, feeling like the big-box-store version. I live in scrubs and comfy clothes most of the time.
They’re talking and laughing, and for a moment, I see Mr. Notting as a real person, not the serious lawyer I’ve known. He’s dressed in his usual expensive suit and polished shoes, and that salt-and-pepper beard that I know drives Callie crazy is perfectly groomed as always.
I wait for them to reach us, my mom and dad anchored to my sides. As usual, them being together feels like an actual anchor weighing me down. Aunt Iris takes a seat back on the bench, her rheumatoid arthritis likely flaring up today. This additional stress isn’t good for her.
“Leighton.” Mr. Notting extends his hand while he’s still steps away from me. He glances behind me but doesn’t acknowledge my parents, which I’m sure reinforces my mom’s belief that all men are slime.
My dad steps forward. “Lenny Sinclair, Leighton’s dad.” He offers his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Notting responds before turning to my mom.
“Lily Sinclair, Leighton’s mom.” My mom gives him a purposeful stare, and I can’t help but wonder how, at my age, my parents are still competing over me.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“It’s Miz,” Mom clarifies, and I take a big cleansing breath.
“My apologies, Ms. Sinclair.” Then he glances at the bench. “Is this another family member?”
Aunt Iris lifts her hand in greeting. “I’m Iris. Lily’s sister, Skylar’s mom.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am.” Mr. Notting gives her a solemn nod.
“Thank you.” Her voice is choked with emotion, but she swallows it down. Her usual stoicism is a trait I think was ingrained in their generation—feelings are meant to be hidden.
“Everyone, this is Vivian Dupont. She’s going to be your legal representative when we go in there.” He motions to the blonde at his side.
A small part of me feels a bit calmer from her kind smile. I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same. And don’t call me Miss Dupont.” She shoots a teasing glance at Mr. Notting. “Just call me Viv.”
“Okay.” I manage a small smile.
She sets her briefcase on the bench with Aunt Iris, then comes back over, taking both my hands. “Look at you. Try not to worry, okay? You’re in the best hands with me. I’m”—she nudges Mr. Notting with her elbow—“as Mark believes, a great lawyer. Even better than him.”
Her camaraderie with Mr. Notting eases some of my tension. He hasn’t done me wrong yet.
“So, this is how it’s going to work…” She explains the process, going through the details, and it’s as if someone flipped a switch.
The caring woman who was in front of me a moment ago has been replaced with a take-no-shit attorney.
“I have the will, which is an updated will. There’s nothing fishy about it, and it was executed by Mr. Notting and witnessed. So, we’re golden there.”
“But…” my mom whispers, dread coloring her tone. Always the pessimist.
“Well, the people contesting the guardianship are family members. A closer family relation than you.” Viv holds up her hands in a placating gesture.
“I’m not saying that to upset you. I’m just explaining what the judge will consider and what the other side will probably argue.
He’s an uncle, and you’re a cousin once removed. ”
That title hits me hard. I never considered how that might look in court—that I’m a more distant relative… oh my god. Panic rises within me, and it’s hard to breathe.
“No, no, no, please don’t do that. We’re going to be fine. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure those kids end up with you, okay, Leighton?” She talks to me in a soothing tone as if she thinks I’m one more word away from fainting.
Which I might be.
“I know you and Skylar were practically sisters. We might need more proof of that—pictures showing your relationship, photos of you with the kids—but we’ll handle that later.
Today, our focus is on the will stating that you’ve been chosen as guardian by the deceased, and that you’ve taken care of the kids for the past six weeks.
We need to show the judge that remaining with you is in their best interest, okay? ”
“Okay. All right. Okay.” My mind is a jumble. What if I don’t get the kids? What if tonight I’m in that big empty house all by myself? Or worse, I’m back in my apartment and Julianna is sleeping in my bed?
“One fight at a time,” she assures me. “Today is about getting them to stay with you. So just let me do the talking, and we’ll be fine. Their lawyer is probably going to—”
At the sound of shoes clicking against the tile floor, we all turn our heads in that direction.
“God, there they are,” my mom says, disgust dripping from her tone.
“Oh, relax, Lil. They’re trying to do what they think is best.” As always, my dad’s attempt to calm her down is lacking.
My gaze catches Julianna’s, and she holds it longer than necessary before looking away. Art doesn’t even glance in our direction. I want to stomp over and scream and yell that these are my kids to care for.
“Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised by who their lawyer is,” Viv says.
“What’s wrong with their lawyer?” I can’t help but ask, looking at a man who appears the same age as Viv.
He has blondish-brown hair, is clean-shaven, and I’d think he was quite handsome if my libido was into guys like him. Unfortunately, it has a thing for guys who kneel in the dirt all day. The thought has me kind of missing Hayes right now.
“He’s an asshat,” Viv says.
“Oh my god,” I murmur.
Viv laughs lightly. “Don’t worry. It’ll probably be me getting arrested today.” She squeezes my hand. “Are you ready?”
“I guess…” I worry my bottom lip.
Mr. Notting interjects, “I think I’m going to—”
“You can go if you want, Mark. I’ve got this from here.” If I wasn’t so stressed, I might actually chuckle at the way Viv dismisses him.
“I’m going to see this one out. I’m invested,” he replies firmly, nodding at me.
“Whatever you like,” Viv concedes, and she’s all business, appearing even cooler than before. She grabs her briefcase off the bench, then comes back to me. “Let’s go. It’s time.”
“All right, we’re right here with you,” my mom reassures me, sliding her arm through mine.
“Yes,” my dad pipes up, stepping closer. “We’re here, right by your side. Your biggest supporters.”
“We love you,” my mom says. “We’re going to make sure you get these kids. Anything we have to do.”
“My checkbook is open. You need anything, you let me know.” My dad can’t help but add his classic phrase.
And then we’re walking toward the courtroom. Mr. Notting opens the door, waiting for us to file through.
“Leighton!”
At the sound of a man’s voice, I turn and look behind me. Hayes is jogging down the hallway.