Chapter 5
Chapter Five
LEGAL
I barely sleep after building the timeline.
By morning, Gavin is already dressed for work.
It’s the same routine too.
He kisses Noah. He kisses me.
He asks if I feel okay.
I tell him I’m just tired.
He says he’ll see me tonight.
I smile.
It’s becoming easier now—the lies and pushing into the depths of whatever this marriage actually is.
Once he’s finally gone, I finally breathe.
I bring Noah to the cafe.
I don’t want Paige anywhere near him today.
Her shift has been canceled, last second, oh well.
I can only assume Gavin will pay her for the hours missed.
I can hear his voice now.
Claire, how would you feel if Audrey called you last minute and said not to work? Right? I mean, at least you have me for financial support. Paige doesn’t have…
I blink the imaginary voice away.
It’s not that I think Paige would ever hurt Noah.
I just can’t stomach her acting as if she belongs in my son’s life.
Trying to work right now is a bad thing.
Mistakes start to pile up.
I pour the wrong coffee. I ring up the wrong pastry.
I forget a customer’s change.
And then finally, Audrey states the obvious.
“You look like hell, Claire.”
Thanks.
“I mean that… emotionally,” she adds.
“It’s… hectic,” I manage to say.
I shrug, point to Noah, and I shrug again.
Audrey leaves it at that.
She starts talking about the neighborhood block party that’s approaching quickly.
She’s talking about coffee, pastries, extension cords, the projector, and the movie screen.
Someone named Dean is bringing tables.
I don’t hear half of what she’s saying, only nodding at all the right moments.
When Audrey asks if Gavin can help with the projector, I answer automatically, “He’s good with cameras.”
The words taste bitter.
A short bit later Nikki texts.
Before I can read the first message, there are four texts waiting.
She’s found three divorce attorneys.
One apparently looks like she’d hug me.
Another looks like she’d charge by the sigh.
And then the last one—Vivian Cross—Nikki adds is the scary one.
I sit and look up Vivian’s site.
I don’t call her.
I just…
Looking at her site feels like research.
Calling feels like admitting my marriage is over.
The bell over the cafe door rings.
I look up without thinking.
The woman who walks in doesn’t look like someone who asks permission for anything.
Dark suit. Perfect posture.
She gives Audrey her name.
Vivian Cross.
My stomach drops.
Of all the places…
I don’t realize I’m staring until Audrey is staring at me, following my eyes.
She glances between us.
“You know her?”
“No,” Vivian says, too fast.
Way too fast.
Vivian looks at me for exactly one second.
Not rude. Not friendly.
Just observant.
Audrey motions at me and then tells me to take a break.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“I’ve got the counter,” she says, ignoring me.
I hesitate, and then I have a mild out-of-body experience as I hear myself boldly asking Vivian, “Do you have five minutes?”
She studies me. “Most people who ask for five need fifty.”
We end up at one of the back tables, Noah in my lap, my hands fidgety, shaking.
I don’t know how to start.
Eventually I just say it.
“My husband is sleeping with our nanny.”
There.
Now it’s real.
I play the clip for Vivian.
Only once.
She watches without interrupting.
When it’s over, she asks questions I wasn’t expecting.
Is this my house? Who owns the account? Does Gavin know I saved the file?
Each answer seems to matter more than the kiss itself.
When I tell her Gavin doesn’t know about the backup, she nods once.
“Good,” she says.
For the first time in two days, I feel like I’ve done something right.
I expect her to start talking about divorce.
Instead she starts talking about my life.
The house. The mortgage. The bank accounts.
Paige. Noah.
Who schedules appointments.
Who feeds him.
Who keeps records.
Who communicates with doctors.
Every answer forces me to think about something I never questioned before.
I finally say the thing that’s been sitting on my chest.
“But he cheated.”
She nods. “It matters.”
I wait.
She finishes.
“To your marriage.”
A second of silence.
“Not automatically to custody.”
Everything inside me then freezes.
I tell her that Gavin would never try to take Noah.
She doesn’t argue.
She simply asks, “Did you think he’d sleep with your nanny?”
For that, I don’t have an answer.
I then tell her about the camera logo. The disabled recordings. The timeline. The spreadsheet.
She listens.
“What does it tell you about your household?” Vivian asks.
Not about the affair, but about the household.
I’ve been asking the wrong question.
She leans forward. “You’ve already proven they’re sleeping together.”
I nod.
“Stop documenting their romance.” She pauses. “Start documenting your motherhood.”
Everything changes.
She asks whether I could survive if Gavin froze our accounts tomorrow.
“He would never,” I say and then stop.
The words sound ridiculous before they’re finished.
Vivian doesn’t criticize me. She doesn’t have to.
“Do I leave?” I ask, which is the burning question I need to know.
“Not today,” Vivian says.
This isn’t about staying forever.
It’s not about emotion either.
It’s about preparation.
When Audrey walks over with Vivian’s completed order, she looks at me for a very long second. “You okay, Claire?”
“No,” I say.
“I didn’t think so,” she smiles sadly.
Then she squeezes my shoulder before walking away.
Vivian leaves her card on the table. “Call me today.”
“For an appointment?”
“For a plan, Claire.”
When she leaves, I look down at Noah.
I place him into the stroller and he grabs for the strap like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.
I pull my laptop from my bag under the stroller and create a new folder.
Not about my husband or about his affair.
This folder is named Noah.
I create the first file inside.
Primary Care Record
I stare at the blinking cursor.
The kiss showed me what Gavin had done.
Vivian Cross showed me what I had to protect.
No longer can I truly think like a wife anymore.
My only job now is thinking like Noah’s mother.