Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Maggie
It didn’t make sense to be so nervous. I’d done this hundreds of times—thousands, even, for God’s sake. It was my career. My passion.
And Mr. Reilly had everything to back us up. The paystubs, the character references, the proof of secure living arrangements.
And more than that, I was Maggie Brynn—recognized on Boston’s 30 Under 30, graduate of Boston College, and one hell of a lawyer, if I do say so myself.
I took a breath, straightened my posture, and walked into my courtroom as if I owned it, ready to accept nothing but the conclusion I wanted.
It was the only way. I had a face to those children now.
I’d seen the joy that being with their father brought them.
And I was here, in this courtroom, in this very profession, to do what was in the best interest of children who couldn’t fight for themselves.
So I did it.
With Mr. Reilly behind me, counting on me, I presented an unflinching case.
And in the end, it didn’t matter. Because Mrs. Reilly changed her mind.
When I proposed a 2-2-3 schedule, giving Mr. Reilly as close to equal custody as was possible in a court of law, I’d fully been expecting Mrs. Reilly’s counsel to counter with a proposition of weekend visitation.
I thought of every angle they might take it from.
The infidelity: a person’s status as a partner does not define their quality as a parent.
His egregious work schedule: he’d already spoken with work to have his hours adjusted to be able to pick the kids up from school on his days with them, choosing to work overtime on the days he didn’t. Because of his longstanding loyalty to the company, they had formally agreed.
The kids needing the stability of one household: children of their age are incredibly adaptable, and the stability they get from having regular contact with both parents will be far more valuable to their emotional well-being.
I had every argument lined up, thought out, fire in my pants ready to ignite me into action at any moment, only for Mrs. Reilly’s lawyer to say, “My client now concurs. She believes it is in the best interest of the children to have regular visitation with their father. We are in agreement with counsel’s proposed schedule. ”
I know they say gamblers have mastered that famous “poker face” they always talk about, but I think lawyers do it even better. Because despite the shock I felt at the total switch-up, I held it together without a trace of emotion flickering across my face.
It would be two days with parent A, two days with parent B, three days with parent A, and then switching order the following week.
In other words, best-case scenario. I couldn’t have asked for any better.
Mr. Reilly sucked in a gasp, looking over to Mrs. Reilly from across the courtroom with raw, unfiltered emotion. And miraculously, gratitude. Humility.
“Thank you,” he breathed, barely audible, but she understood the sentiment and nodded back at him.
Maybe the anger had died down. Maybe, despite being hurt by him, she recognized the invaluable force he was in their children’s lives. Whatever the reason, when she looked at him I found no animosity, no duplicity. Only a quiet respect of his role as the man whom she’d once shared a life with.
There they were, two people with countless years behind them. No one stands up at the altar assuming one day they’d be here. Many resort to a lesser version of themselves they never would’ve expected to encounter. Most can never put their anger aside, even for the sake of children.
But these two had recognized that no matter the outcome of their relationship, their lives would always be intertwined. They’d been partners once, and now perhaps would still be, in a different way.
There was still love there, that was certain. How could there not be? They wouldn’t stop being a family despite the dynamic looking a bit different. There may still be hurt there, but there was immense love, as well.
Humans were messy and emotional and reckless, and despite it all, we were still drawn to each other like magnets, throwing caution to the wind regardless of the potential for damage.
But almost all of them, when asked if they would do it all over again, always agreed that they would.
And me, foolish as I’d been, had spent so long trying to avoid pain that I in turn had avoided happiness.
Not anymore.