Allie
I knew the first day of court was going to suck.
The part I didn’t plan on, though? Puking every three minutes like clockwork.
Turns out, there is a limit to how much stress a body can handle, and I clearly hit mine sometime around Thanksgiving. Ever since, this has been my morning and nightly routine: hunched over the nearest toilet.
Spoiler alert: it’s not cute. Not even a little.
But the moment Trevor and Marissa walked in this morning, it was like someone pulled a tripwire straight to my stomach. After that? I haven’t been able to stop.
I glance at my phone and groan. Five more minutes.
That’s five more minutes to be alone. To breathe. To remind myself that no matter what happens in that courtroom, I’m a damn good mom—and I don’t deserve any of this.
Now I just have to believe it.
I push myself off the cold bathroom floor, rinse my mouth, wash my hands, and do my best to pull it together. Then I slip back into the lobby like nothing ever happened.
The second my back hits the bench, Ana’s head snaps toward me.
“Again?” she asks, already digging in her purse. She hands me a tissue without waiting for an answer.
I take it, dabbing the corners of my mouth. “Shut up.”
She pulls me in, letting my head rest on her shoulder as I breathe slowly in through my nose, and out through my mouth, willing this nausea to stay down this time.
Then—hands on my shoulders startle me.
I snap upright, spinning so fast in my seat it nearly makes me dizzy. Then a pair of blue eyes find mine. And suddenly, I feel safe again. Like nothing could hurt me, and that maybe everything really will be okay.
My hand reaches out, cupping his rough stubble in the palm of my hand. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my fingers still resting against his skin.
He shrugs, smiling softly. “Sure, Ana’s got the tissues. But I’ve got you.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but before they have a chance to fall, the grand doors swing open.
“Monroe v. Windsor?” a shorter man with a receding hairline calls into the nearly empty hall.
Oh god, I’m definitely going to hurl again…
I swallow it down the best I can and peel myself off the creaking bench to make my way into the courtroom.
The room is huge—almost too big for something as small as a family matter.
There are at least fifty chairs, all lined up facing the judge’s bench, with two small rectangular tables sitting just in front.
Jax’s hand slips from mine as I force my way through the swinging doors and stand beside my seat on the left.
After a few quiet moments, the courtroom doors swing open again, and the judge walks in. Her long robe brushes the floor as she makes her way to the bench, eyes peeking over the rim of her thin-framed glasses.
I swallow hard, fighting to hold down the nausea the moment her gaze lands on mine. Because for some reason? I have a bad feeling about this.
She nods briefly at the court clerk before taking her seat, flipping open a thick manila envelope and quickly scanning the pages inside. I’m so focused on her that I barely hear the bailiff announce it’s okay to sit—hell, I didn’t even hear him tell anyone to stand, but thankfully, I already was.
The second I connect with my seat, my eyes betray me—drifting across the room to where Trevor sits. But it’s not him I focus on.
It’s the manila envelope resting on the table in front of him. A cold squeeze wraps around my spine when I realize… Trevor’s more prepared than I am.
I came with nothing. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to bring anything. What could he even have brought? All the receipts for everything I paid for? Proof of the two weekends he decided to be a “good dad” for once? Why is he so dead-set on making me look bad?
I quickly turn, searching Ana and Jax’s faces, tears brimming in my eyes and confusion clouding my mind.
Ana leans forward slightly. “You got this,” she whispers, just loud enough for only me to hear.
The snapping sound of papers hitting the table startles me. When I turn, Judge Reinbeck’s eyes are locked on Trevor and me, making me want to shrivel in my seat.
“Before we begin,” she says, leaning forward in her chair, “I want to be clear about how this hearing will proceed. Today, we will address concerns from both parents. However, I will not be issuing a final ruling today. At our next hearing, I will hear character witnesses. After all testimony has been reviewed, a final decision will be delivered by mail.” She pauses, her gaze sweeping over every face in the courtroom, and my mind freezes.
In the mail? How is that even ethical? Or humane, for that matter. Forcing a parent to sit by the window, wondering if their entire world is about to be flipped upside down. Wondering if they’ll still be allowed to parent the next day.
That sounds like… torture.
“Now,” Judge Reinbeck says, settling back in her chair, “who would like to begin?”
Before I can even process what’s happening, Trevor cuts through any thoughts I’m trying to gather.
“I would, Your Honor,” he says, sounding so sure of himself.
She nods.
He stands, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he begins. “We’re here today, Your Honor, because I truly believe my two daughters, Charlotte and Lydia Monroe, should be in my care full time. Their mother, Allison Windsor, doesn’t have their best interests in mind.”
He pauses, eyes flicking toward me before continuing.
“She’s too focused on living a lavish lifestyle with her current boyfriend—someone who leads the true rock star life.
I’m worried about the kind of environment the girls will be exposed to: late nights, unsafe people, drugs and alcohol.
It’s not a stable household for the girls anymore. ”
A scoff slips out before I can catch it, and I clamp my mouth shut, cheeks burning.
Judge Reinbeck’s gaze snaps to mine, clearly unimpressed.
Someone kill me, please.
“Mr. Monroe, is there anything concrete behind this allegation? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you just disapprove of who the defendant is dating.”
“Am I able to submit proofs, Your Honor?”
My head snaps toward him as he starts pulling paper after paper from his folder.
What could he possibly have?
“Very well. Roger, would you grab those, please?”
My eyes stay locked on the bailiff as he crosses the room, scoops up the stack, and hands it to Judge Reinbeck. And I just sit there—frozen.
Judge Reinbeck flips through the papers, skimming each one in silence. Her brow lifts slightly as she reaches the third page.
“A statement from a witness,” Judge Reinbeck says, glancing over the top of the page. “Someone claiming they saw Ms. Windsor and Mr. Owens arguing on a hotel balcony during the band’s album release party in Boston.”
My stomach drops.
That wasn’t a fight. Not like that. Yeah, I was upset—frustrated, crying—but I don’t remember yelling.
And Jax? He was trying to calm me down, not escalate it.
We were out there for barely five minutes.
Plus, the girls weren’t even there. But hearing it described like that—like we were some toxic couple who gets into fights like that—makes my stomach twist.
It’s mortifying. And it’s far from true.
“Your Honor, that’s not—”
“Ms. Windsor left our daughters at home with her mother so she could go and party,” Trevor cuts in smoothly. “And apparently fight with Mr. Owens. On the night of Halloween.”
The word Halloween rolls off his tongue like it means something, like it somehow matters here. He knows damn well he had the girls this year, so it shouldn’t matter what I was doing on my own time.
“Your Honor, there’s more,” he adds. “She also went on vacation in July, where she met Mr. Owens, and didn’t bother checking on her daughters the entire month she was gone—”
“Trevor, that is not true and you know it!” Ana shouts from behind me, her voice shaking with anger.
I wince.
“Miss, I will not tolerate this in my courtroom. Either you settle down, or you’re out,” Judge Reinbeck snaps, voice loud enough to echo through the room.
I turn, looking pleadingly between Ana and Jax. He tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I can see it—the way his jaw is clenched so tight it could crack.
He’s just as pissed and hurt as I am.
“Ms. Windsor, are these allegations true?” the judge asks, but her voice isn’t as cold and stern as it was moments ago.
Maybe she’s starting to see the pattern.
I blink back the tears trying to break free. “Not whatsoever, Your Honor,” I choke out.
“Let me hear your side.”
I swipe my thumb under my eye and start.
“When I was on vacation, Mr. Monroe asked me not to call. He said it was messing with the girls since they weren’t used to being away from me.
But I still called. Every time, the girls were either asleep, or he just didn’t answer.
” I pause, taking a steadying breath. “And as far as Halloween, Your Honor, that was Trevo—” I pinch my eyes closed —“Mr. Monroe’s night with the girls. ”
She raises an eyebrow. “Do you have any proof? Phone records? Text messages? Anything?”
I stammer. “I—I only have their word.” I gesture behind me at Ana and Jax.
Judge Reinbeck offers a tight-lipped smile. There’s a flicker of warmth there, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
Before she can respond, Trevor cuts in. “What about him punching an old dude in a bar?” he blurts.
My face flushes hot. Not with embarrassment. Or hurt. Just pure anger.
Judge Reinbeck raises an eyebrow at me, then glances down at the paperwork on her desk. She pulls one sheet out, scans it quickly, and her eyes snap back to me.
And any warmth she had? Gone.
“And how about this one, Ms. Windsor?”
I straighten, taking a deep, steadying breath—though it does little to actually calm me.
“That was a family matter,” I say quietly.
Her eyebrows knit together as she sets the papers down and leans forward on her bench. “And does Mr. Owens make it a habit to make these… family matters physical?”
I stammer. “No, of course not. He’s a good man, Your Honor. I wouldn’t allow him near my daughters if he was violent.”
Trevor’s scoffing laugh cuts through the air, and rage floods through me like wildfire.
I whip around to face him, words spilling out faster than I can control.
“At least he doesn’t put his hands on the mother of his children, Trevor,” I spit before I even realize what’s happening.
My eyes pinch shut, but even with them closed I can feel the sudden shift in the room. Like nobody dares to make a noise.
“Ms. Windsor, that’s a dangerous allegation to put on Mr. Monroe,” Judge Reinbeck says, shock seeping into her voice.
Tears well in my eyes again—but this time, they win. One slips free, trailing silently down my cheek.
I shake my head. “It’s not an allegation, Your Honor,” I admit, almost wishing I could rewind the last five seconds. I don’t want to see Trevor go to jail or anything… I just panicked.
Judge Reinbeck’s eyebrows knit together as she watches me quietly. I slowly shrug off the cardigan I’d been wearing and pull up my sleeve—revealing the now orange-green bruise that wraps around my bicep.
“That’s bullshit,” Trevor snaps, but his eyes flick nervously around the room.
“Do you have any witnesses, Ms. Windsor?”
That question breaks me. Every tear I was holding back spills free while I nod. “Our daughter, Charlotte,” I say, my voice breaking.
Judge Reinbeck studies me for a moment. “Has this happened in the past?” she asks, her tone softened now, almost gentle.
I start to shake my head—but then I hear Ana push to her feet behind me.
“Allie, don’t you dare try to lie,” she snaps. “You’re under oath. Do not protect him right now.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s only happened once before,” I admit, my body starting to tremble. “When we broke up. It was just that one time.” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “He’s never hit me, though. Or anything like that.”
Judge Reinbeck shakes her head slowly. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter if he kicked you, punched you, grabbed you—it doesn’t matter.” Her voice softens, but it’s still firm. “No one should be putting their hands on you. Don’t downplay it.”
And just like that… the pressure in my chest loosens slightly.
“Do you want to press charges?” she asks after a moment.
My brows pull together as I shake my head. “No. Of course not.” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “I think he just needs to learn how to control himself. He’s not violent. And neither is Jax.”
Judge Reinbeck gives me a half-smile before glancing down at her bench. “Alright. Then we’ll meet next week as planned for character witnesses. Court is adjourned,” she says, then brings the gavel down with a sharp smack.
And just when I thought I could finally breathe, it all leaves me.
We’re still fighting? Even after all of this? She just sounded like this was going to be figured out today. Not drag it into another week of this.
I could still lose them?
From the corner of my eye, I see Trevor scurry out.
But I can’t move.
My hands are locked around the edge of the table like they’re the only thing keeping me upright.
“You okay, Al?” Ana asks softly from behind me.
The room spins.
The dull lights buzz.
And before I can even try to answer her…
I’m just thankful there’s a wastebasket under the table.