Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hayes
I sit on a gallery bench with Leighton’s family, beside her Aunt Iris, who I know was Skylar’s mom.
The only thing I really remember about her is that she worked a lot.
And that’s because Skylar used to take full advantage and throw parties while her mom was out of the house.
But now, from what I’ve heard from my own mother, Iris has rheumatoid arthritis and doesn’t have nearly as much energy as she did when she ran her own house-cleaning company and worked as a waitress at night.
Iris pats my leg—the only one of the three of them who is welcoming. Though I don’t think Leighton’s dad really even knows who I am.
“So nice of you to be here for Leighton. Did you have a game today?” She glances at my damp hair, and I realize that her eyes hold a sweetness her sister’s never do.
“Just a practice, but I was cutting it close. Almost had to come in a T-shirt and sweats.”
She laughs softly. “You should have worn your uniform.”
The judge clears his throat and knocks his gavel on the desk, pulling everyone’s attention. “Excuse me, is the conversation over there more important than what we’re here for?”
“No. No, sorry,” Iris says. “It’s just this is Hayes Carlisle, you know, the catcher for the Colts.”
Iris says it as if that’s an excuse. My mom would kill me if she were here.
The judge’s gaze shifts to me. I really wish Iris hadn’t done that. Today is about Leighton, not what I do for a living.
“Nice to have you in the courtroom,” Judge Northcott says. “Good luck this year. I think you guys might have a shot.” His tone is very businesslike. “Anyway, back to the case at hand so I can get to lunch. I’ll hear from you first, Miss Dupont.”
Leighton’s lawyer, who looks as though she could run Fight Club in the back alley, approaches the bench.
“Sir, the will states that Leighton Sinclair is to be the guardian. Both of the parents, who are now deceased, listed and signed the papers appointing her. It was their wish for Miss Sinclair to have guardianship of the children, and we would like the court to abide by it.”
She hands the will to the deputy, who brings it to the judge. He puts on his reading glasses and glances over the document, paging through it.
“Well, it definitely states Leighton Sinclair.” He turns to the other counsel. “And your clients are objecting to this? They want to take guardianship of…” He scans the paper. “The three underage children?”
The other lawyer stands, giving Leighton’s lawyer a smirk.
“My client is the biological brother of the deceased father, Your Honor. He is married, and he believes that the children should be left with him and his wife, Julianna. Their household would be best suited for the well-being of the children.”
“Oh my god,” Lily gasps, leaning over the edge of the pew. “Grow a pair,” she says to an older male on the other side.
Leighton’s dad tugs at his ex-wife’s shirt.
Leighton turns around to shush her mom, and her dad waves as though he’s desperate to tell Leighton he’s not part of it.
“That may be, Mr. Lochs, but the deceased named Leighton Sinclair. I’m going to need more than a marriage license to reverse what were very clearly their wishes,” the judge says.
The lawyer looks back at his clients—Patrick’s brother, Art, and that Martha-Stewart-wannabe blonde—and says, “We believe that Skylar persuaded Patrick into signing the will.”
Leighton’s lawyer laughs. “You’ve got to be joking.
That’s your argument? Do you have any proof of this?
” She turns to the judge. “Your Honor, we cannot dictate whether a deceased person was coerced. And it doesn’t matter.
He signed the will, and I have the executor, the lawyer who prepared it, in the courtroom with me today.
He can testify that Patrick signed the will of his own free will. ”
She holds her hand out toward a perfectly dressed man with a salt-and-pepper beard, sitting a little too close to Leighton.
The judge nods. “I have to agree with Miss Dupont that we cannot go by what we think a deceased person was thinking or feeling at the time they signed, unless you have some evidence to suggest otherwise. Do you have anything else before I make my ruling for temporary custody?”
The other lawyer frantically looks through a few papers, while Miss Dupont leans her elbow on her podium, staring at him with a cocky grin as though she’s won already.
Julianna nods at the lawyer, and he blows out a breath.
“Leighton Sinclair works twelve-hour shifts three nights a week—which leaves, from what we know, the two grandmas, Lily Sinclair and Iris Richards, in charge of the children. She has no other help. Whereas my clients have a beautiful home—four bedrooms, enough for each child to have their own. They are in a committed relationship, married, with two incomes. The kids would want for nothing. On top of that, my clients are able and willing to support them on a single income so that the children would have a stay-at-home guardian. They would have love and security in my clients’ home. ”
“They would have love and security with me,” Leighton says, glaring at Julianna.
Atta girl.
“Yes, but she cannot raise three children on her own. She’s thirty years old and actually lives in a one-bedroom apartment.”
“Oh my god. How does he know where she lives?” her mom whispers.
“Because they’re doing recon on her. They know everything about our daughter,” Leighton’s dad mutters.
Art’s lawyer continues. “Miss Sinclair isn’t in a committed relationship. She cannot raise three kids with her piecemeal babysitters. They need the consistency and stability that my clients can provide. We would like you to appoint temporary custody to Arthur and Julianna Sullivan.”
Leighton’s lawyer raises her hand and narrows her eyes at the other lawyer.
“First of all, I don’t think ‘piecemeal babysitters’ is an appropriate reference to the children’s grandmother and great-aunt watching them.
Plus, Miss Sinclair being single has no bearing on her ability to be a guardian.
Mr. Lochs, there are plenty of single mothers raising their kids while juggling work schedules. ”
Mr. Lochs turns to Miss Dupont. “To their own children. These aren’t her children, so the court gets to decide who should raise these kids. My clients offer a more ideal living situation than your client.”
Miss Dupont blows out a breath. “Are you suggesting, Mr. Lochs, that those parents aren’t doing what they should for their kids?”
“No, Miss Dupont. I’m suggesting that, given the option—and there is one now that my clients are contesting guardianship—it is more preferable for these children to be with the brother of their father, who’s in a committed marriage.
Julianna could turn in her notice, and they would still be fine financially.
They can give the children the love and routine and security similar to the household they had before their parents’ untimely death. ”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You are such…
” Miss Dupont pauses and looks at the judge.
“The will states that Skylar and Patrick Sullivan named Leighton Sinclair as the guardian to their children. We cannot overturn that decision, as I’m sure it was not made lightly.
We must abide by their wishes for the children. ”
She straightens her back, glances at Mr. Lochs, then returns her attention to the judge.
“It does not matter whether or not Miss Sinclair is married. It has no bearing on this case. Her schedule as a nurse—does it matter? Yes. But she has already figured out a solution to that. There are plenty of people who work and raise children without a partner.”
“Very true, but that’s not what these kids are used to,” Mr. Lochs argues. “They’re used to a mom who stayed at home. And they’re used to a dad who went to work. And they’re used to a mom who volunteered…”
He goes on and on while Leighton’s shoulders sink a little every time that man says something she can’t do.
“My clients will have time to spend with the kids. They can do the bake sale. Be part of the PTA. I hate to say it, but Miss Sinclair can’t. She doesn’t have the time in her schedule to devote to these kids’ needs like my clients do.”
Leighton leans forward with her hand on her forehead.
Fuck me. My hands fist on my thighs in an attempt to contain my anger before I jump over the railing and punch Mr. Lochs Mike Tyson-style.
Miss Dupont shakes her head. “You cannot honestly be—”
The judge raises his hand, and both lawyers quiet down.
“At first, when I saw the will, I thought this was a clear case—that the temporary custody would be granted to Miss Sinclair. But hearing Mr. Lochs’s argument, I have to say these children are going through a lot of change, and to have a similar routine with somebody so close as the biological brother does seem like it may be a better fit for the kids. ”
“With all due respect, Your Honor, the children have been in the care of Miss Sinclair for the past six weeks,” Miss Dupont says more calmly.
“I understand that. And I’ll take it into consideration.
” Then the judge sets his gaze on Leighton.
“Miss Sinclair, hearing the two arguments, do you honestly believe that what you’re capable of giving the children is the same as what Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan can give them?
That you have the time and energy to care for these kids while they are grieving their parents? ”
Leighton stands, staring at the judge. “It was a big adjustment for everyone, but we’re fine, Your Honor.”
“With all due respect, ‘fine’ doesn’t really cut it when it comes to three children’s well-being,” Mr. Lochs chimes in.
Fucking hell. I’m gonna bite his ear off, Mike Tyson-style.
“There’s no comparison. She cannot do this by herself,” Mr. Loch adds.
The judge puts his hand up to stop him.
Hearing him state outright that Leighton can’t do this has the words rushing out of my mouth before I can stop them. “She isn’t!” I stand.
All heads swivel in my direction as my palms grow clammy.
“Excuse me,” the judge says. “Mr. Carlisle, what are you saying?”
My gaze sets on Leighton, hoping I’m doing the right thing. “She has me. I’m in a committed relationship with Leighton Sinclair.”
Lily gasps. “What? Leighton?”
I’ve always lived with the philosophy of go big or go home, and this is no different.