Chapter 5—Christa #3
He steps away from his chair. “I’ll drive you home.”
“I drove myself.”
“We came together.”
“You came from the club. I met you here.”
Tate glances around the table, aware of every person watching us. “Then I’ll meet you at home.”
“I won’t be there tonight.”
That gets his full attention. “Where are you going?”
“A hotel.”
His disbelief would almost be funny under different circumstances. “Over this?”
The question confirms everything I need. I put the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Christa.”
I keep walking.
Celeste catches up with me in the front hall while I’m getting my coat. She doesn’t touch me or ask for details. She simply stands beside the console table while I button the coat.
“For whatever it’s worth, he’s being an ass.”
I look at her.
She gives me a rueful smile. “I’ve been his sister for thirty-seven years. I have credentials.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Apparently, everyone has credentials tonight.”
“Mine are legitimate.” Celeste opens the front door for me. “Do you need somewhere to go?”
“I’m okay.”
She studies me for a second, then accepts the answer. “Call me if that changes.”
“Thank you.”
The cold air outside is a relief after the dining room.
I reach my car before Tate comes after me. He doesn’t come at all, but I’m not surprised.
JAI ANSWERS ON THE fourth ring at nine-thirty on a Saturday night. “Please tell me you’re not in jail.”
Her greeting startles a laugh out of me while I sit in the hotel parking lot with the engine running. My overnight bag is on the passenger seat beside the folder I brought from home. “No.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
“Then this had better be worth interrupting the documentary I was watching.”
“What documentary?”
She sighs. “That isn’t why you called.”
I smile despite the ache behind my ribs. “No.”
Jai waits.
I look down at the folder. Earlier this week, she sent the completed petition and property schedule for final review.
I already checked the account numbers, studio documents, and the list of personal property.
The only meaningful question left is whether I’m ready for her to submit it. “I reviewed everything.”
Jai’s voice loses the humor. “Any corrections?”
“No. The studio stays separate. The account information is right, and I still don’t want the house.”
“I remain opposed to abandoning excellent real estate on principle.”
“You don’t have to live there.”
“Fair point.” Paper rustles on her end. “The documents are ready. I still need final authorization before anything goes to the court.”
I look through the windshield at the hotel entrance. People come and go beneath the awning. A family wrestles two sleepy children and three rolling suitcases through the revolving door while a man at the curb argues with a rideshare driver about the trunk.
Ordinary Saturday-night problems.
Mine waits in a folder on my lap.
Last week, I told Jai to finish preparing everything. Tonight, the decision becomes public enough that Tate can no longer pretend our marriage is simply going through another bad stretch. “Submit it Monday.”
Jai pauses. “I need you to state the authorization clearly.”
I expected that. She warned me she would. I sit straighter against the seat. “File the petition Monday morning.”
“All right.” She doesn’t congratulate me or ask whether I’m sure. “I’ll send confirmation once the court accepts it, then we’ll arrange service. Until that happens, don’t negotiate with Tate about property or finances.”
“I won’t.”
“Has something happened tonight?”
I look at the hotel entrance again. “Dinner with his family.”
Jai makes a sympathetic noise. “That bad?”
“He told his mother my testing hasn’t found the fertility problem yet. Then his father brought up the trust.”
“Ah.”
“Exactly.”
“He still hasn’t done the semen analysis?”
“No.”
Jai is quiet for a second. “I don’t practice medicine, so I’ll restrict my professional opinion to divorce.”
“Probably wise.” Celeste’s comment about him being an ass comes back to me. I bet Jai would concur.
“One more thing.” Her chair creaks on the other end. “If you’re staying away from the house tonight, send me the hotel information. You don’t have to tell Tate where you are.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. If he contacts you, keep the messages.”
I glance at my phone in the cup holder. “He already has.”
“Anything threatening?”
“No. Mostly annoyed.”
“Save it anyway.”
We go through what Monday will look like, including service and how Tate should communicate once he has counsel. Jai keeps it practical, which is exactly what I need. By the time we hang up, the folder on my lap looks less intimidating.
My phone lights almost immediately.
Tate has sent three messages.
Tate: Where are you?
A minute later comes another.
Tate: This is ridiculous. Come home.
The third arrived while I was talking to Jai.
Tate: We need to deal with this before you make everything worse.
I read the last one twice.
Then I take screenshots, forward them to Jai, and mute Tate’s notifications.
On Monday morning, he’ll understand I already dealt with it.