13. Haley
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Haley
Six Months Later
“Yes.”
That’s it. That’s all he had to say for our marriage ending. Five years reduced to a single syllable spoken without hesitation. Fuck, he wasn’t even looking at me.
I watched Caleb from across the table, waiting for something more. A flicker of regret. Anything that suggested this meant more to him than signing off on a business deal.
Nothing.
He just sat there in his expensive suit with his expensive lawyer beside him, staring straight ahead like I wasn’t even in the room.
I couldn’t keep my anger in check. It rose in my chest, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from saying all the things I wanted to say.
Instinctively, my hand went to my belly. As if she knew, there was a small kick against my palm.
You’re okay. We’re okay. This is almost over.
In the background, I could hear the judge going over the details of the divorce and custody arrangement. The legal language washed over me. Division of assets. Spousal support. Custody terms.
Custody terms that Caleb was signing away without a fight.
He was giving her up. His own daughter. And he was doing it with the same casual indifference he’d use to sign a contract for office supplies.
“You didn’t ask,” I said, low, just for him.
“Ask what.” He still wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fixed on some point on the wall behind the judge’s head.
“What she is. Boy or girl. You’re signing her away and you don’t even know.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he shrugged, a small movement of his shoulders that somehow contained everything wrong with him.
“Does it matter now?”
How did I ever marry this man? I spent five years of my life believing he loved me.
He never loved me. I could see that now with perfect clarity. I was a checkbox on his list of things a successful man was supposed to have. A wife. A home. An image of stability and respectability. I was never a partner to him. I was a prop.
And our daughter was going to be a prop too, if I let him anywhere near her.
I kept myself in check. Barely. I waited while the judge finished speaking, while the lawyers exchanged documents, while signatures were collected and notarized and filed. I waited while my marriage officially ended, while the man I’d loved became nothing more than a name on paperwork.
The judge set down her pen and looked at me over her glasses.
“There’s one condition before I sign this.” Her voice was even, almost kind. “Mr. Sinclair is giving up everything a father has. No custody. No visits. No say in how this child grows up. That part is done, and it doesn’t come back.”
She let that settle before she went on.
“But I won’t let the door lock on the child herself. You’ll keep one line open. When she’s born, you let him know she arrived safe. If she ever comes asking about him years from now, he can be found. That’s all it is. He gets nothing from it.”
“He gets nothing,” I repeated. “But I’m the one who has to keep calling.”
She picked the pen back up. “It’s a phone call now and then. It gives your daughter a choice one day. That choice belongs to her, not to either of you.”
“But-”
“The onus is on Mr. Sinclair to stay reachable. If he maintains the line, you keep it going for your daughter.”
I wanted to argue, but Rebecca’s hand settled on my arm. It was a warning.
So I nodded.
Then she gathered the documents and leaned in close.
“We’re done here. You can go.”
I stood up without looking at Caleb. James was outside when I stepped out of the courtroom.
He was sitting on one of the benches in the hallway, his phone in his hand, but he looked up the moment the door opened. His eyes found mine immediately, scanning my face, trying to read how bad it had been.
At least he didn’t have to witness my embarrassment.
“Hey.” He stood up and walked toward me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” The word came out steady, which surprised me. “I’m okay.”
He extended his hand, and I looked at it for a moment.
I put my hand in his. Without a second thought.
His fingers closed around mine, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders release.
“Come on.” He led me toward the elevators. “Let’s get you out of here. What’s my little niece craving?”
I managed a small smile. “Probably tacos. She’s been obsessed with tacos for the past two weeks.”
“Tacos it is.” He pressed the button for the elevator. “I know a place a few blocks from here. Best tacos in the city, according to Megan.”
“Megan’s taco opinions are questionable at best.”
“She said you’d say that.” The elevator doors opened and he guided me inside. “She also said to tell you that her taco opinions are impeccable and you’re just jealous of her refined palate.”
“Did she actually say refined palate?”
“She might have said something about you being a taco snob. I’m paraphrasing.”
I laughed. James looked at me with that small smile he got when he was pleased with himself, and I felt my chest loosen just a little more.
James had been a godsend these past six months.
He’d been with me at some of my appointments, sitting in the waiting room with a book or his phone, ready to take me to lunch afterward or just drive me home if I was too tired to deal with the world.
When Megan was busy with work, he’d step in without being asked, showing up at Megan’s door with food or coffee or just his presence.
And other times, he’d just made sure I didn’t lose my mind during the divorce proceedings.
He’d stayed through it all. After two meetings with his agent, I’d given up searching for a new place. It had been too much work. And I was so drained mentally. Megan and Daniel had taken one look at me and put their hands up. “That’s it, you’re staying here until that girl is eighteen.”
That’s all I cared about now. The people who’d shown up, and not the ones who’d left me.
I thought about a day three months ago.
I’d been sitting in my lawyer’s office, Rebecca, a woman with steel in her spine and absolutely no patience for bullshit. She was exactly the kind of lawyer you wanted when you were going up against Diane Sinclair.
“They’re demanding what?” I’d stared at the document in front of me, certain I was misreading it.
“Emotional distress.” Rebecca had pushed her glasses up her nose and flipped through the pages. “Diane is claiming that your behavior during the separation caused her significant emotional harm and she’s seeking compensation.”
I’d felt my jaw drop. “She told me to get rid of my baby. And she’s claiming I caused her emotional distress?”
“That’s their position, yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s a legal tactic.” Rebecca had leaned back in her chair. “They’re trying to put you on the defensive. Make you so busy fighting their claims that you don’t have the resources to pursue your own.”
“Can they actually win?”
“Not a chance.” She’d smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made me understand why she charged what she charged.
“Diane Sinclair has made a lot of enemies over the years. Finding witnesses to her behavior isn’t going to be difficult.
And we have the screenshots, remember? The messages between Caleb and Vanessa about how Diane encouraged the affair. ”
“So what do we do?”
“We fight back.” She’d pulled out another folder. “I’m filing a countersuit for intentional infliction of emotional distress.”
“Can we win that?”
“We don’t have to win. We just have to make it painful enough that they back off.” Her smile had sharpened. “Diane cares about her reputation above everything else. The last thing she wants is her role in this affair becoming public record.”
I’d sat there for a moment, trying to process all of it.
“I can’t afford this.” The words had come out small. “All these filings, the countersuits, your time. I can’t pay for a prolonged legal battle against the Sinclair fortune.”
“You don’t have to.” Rebecca had slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Your retainer has been covered.”
“By who?”
“James Sinclair.”
I’d stared at her. “What?”
“He came to me three weeks ago.” She’d leaned forward. “He was very clear that you weren’t to know until it became necessary.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“You already have. The retainer is paid, the work has begun, and frankly, you need me.” She’d held up a hand before I could argue. “His exact words were that he was using the family card, so technically the Sinclairs are paying for your defense. He called it payback for his asshole brother.”
I’d sat there, not knowing what to say. James had been helping me in ways I couldn’t even see. Making sure I was protected. That I had the resources to fight.
“He’s a good man,” Rebecca had said quietly. “In case you were wondering. I’ve dealt with a lot of the Sinclair family over the years. He’s the only one I’d trust.”
Now, three months later, walking out of the courthouse with my hand in his, I thought about that conversation. About all the ways James had shown up for me, even when I didn’t know he was doing it.
“You’re quiet.” His voice pulled me back to the present.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how different you are from the rest of your family.”
He was quiet for a moment. We stepped out of the elevator and walked through the lobby, past security guards and lawyers and people whose lives weren’t falling apart.
“I’m not that different,” he finally said. “I just made different choices.”
“That’s exactly what makes you different.”
He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite read. He opened his mouth like he was about to say more, then seemed to think better of it.
“Come on.” He pushed open the door to the street. “Tacos await.”
We walked a few blocks to the restaurant he’d mentioned. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and a bookstore.
“This is Megan’s impeccable taco recommendation?”
“She swears by it.”
“It looks like it might give me food poisoning.”
“The best places always do.” He held the door open for me. “Trust me.”
I walked in and was immediately hit by the smell of grilled meat and fresh tortillas. The place was tiny, maybe ten tables, with a counter in the back where a woman was assembling tacos with practiced speed.
“Okay,” I admitted. “It smells amazing.”
“Told you.”
We found a table by the window and ordered more tacos than two people should reasonably eat. James got a beer. I got a horchata because alcohol was off the menu for the foreseeable future, and honestly, I’d never liked beer anyway.
“So.” James leaned back in his chair. “How are you really doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“Haley.”
“I’m fine.” I took a sip of my horchata. “I’m divorced. I’m eight months pregnant. My ex-husband just signed away his parental rights without even asking what gender the baby is. But I’m fine.”
“That doesn’t sound fine.”
“It’s the best I’ve got right now.” I looked at him. “He didn’t care, James. He sat there and signed away his daughter and he didn’t even flinch. What kind of person does that?”
“The same kind of person who cheats on his wife for almost a year and lets his mother call her a mistake.”
“I just keep wondering how I didn’t see it before.”
“Because he didn’t want you to see it.” James reached across the table and put his hand over mine. “Caleb is very good at showing people what they want to see. He’s been doing it his whole life. You’re not stupid for believing him. He’s just that good at lying.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“But it’s the truth.”
The tacos arrived, and we ate in comfortable silence for a while. He was right. They were incredible. The baby apparently agreed, because she kicked enthusiastically after every bite.
“She likes them,” I said, putting a hand on my belly.
“Smart kid.” James smiled. “Takes after her mom.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t take after her dad.”
“She won’t.” He said it with certainty. “She’s going to have you raising her. She’s going to be just like you.”
I felt tears prick at my eyes and blinked them back. Stupid pregnancy hormones.
He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about her. She’s going to be perfect.”
“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”
“You’re family, Haley.”
I just squeezed his hand back and tried not to cry into my tacos.
“Eat,” he said gently. “My niece needs her strength.”
I laughed through the tears and picked up another taco.