Chapter 11—Christa
I WAKE FRIDAY MORNING with one foot trapped beneath Simon’s calf and his arm draped across my waist.
Gray light comes through the curtains, enough to show yesterday’s clothes scattered between the bed and the chair. One of my boots is tipped onto its side, Simon’s shirt is near the dresser, and my green sweater has disappeared somewhere under the blanket.
I stay where I am for a few seconds and consider the one thing that matters this morning. I don’t regret last night. I don’t have to talk myself into that conclusion or blame anything on the week I’ve had. I wanted Simon before my marriage exploded, and I wanted him last night.
Simon shifts when I reach for my phone. He draws me closer briefly before he opens his eyes, his hair flattened on one side and his face still creased from the pillow.
“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Jai has what we need.” I turn the phone so he can see the message she sent twenty minutes ago.
Jai: Call before you speak to anyone in the Meade family. I have what we need.
Simon squints at the screen, then looks at me. “That’s either excellent news or a ruthless way to interrupt post-sex conversation.”
I laugh and run my fingers through the flattened section of his hair, making it worse. “You had a post-sex conversation planned?”
“Several approaches. One was charming.” He catches my hand and kisses my knuckles before releasing it. “The others needed refinement.”
“I’m sure the charming one was your assessment.”
“Who else would I trust?”
His smile fades when I reach for my phone again. “Do you want privacy?”
“You can stay.”
The answer comes easily. Simon doesn’t comment on it or make me explain why I want him here. He gets out of bed, pulls on his trousers, and pours himself water while I retrieve my sweater from beneath the blanket and call Jai.
She answers quickly. “You’re up.”
“Your message helped.”
Papers rustle on her end. “I have the challenge procedure and enough of the fraud provisions to move. Celeste has standing as a beneficiary.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. Across the room, Simon stops with the glass halfway to his mouth and looks at me. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Tate’s certification affects her interests under the trust. She can challenge whether the requirements for the succession transfer have been satisfied.
” Jai pauses while another page moves. “Once a proper challenge is made, the trustees can hold certification while they verify the pregnant spouse’s identity and the other qualifying requirements. ”
“Then I can tell Celeste.”
“Today, preferably in person.” Jai’s voice shifts from legal explanation to instruction. “There’s another reason I don’t want to wait. Tate’s attorney contacted me at five forty-eight this morning.”
My attention sharpens. “What did he want?”
“The same thirty days Tate asked you for Monday. They’re describing it as a cooling-off period for reconciliation. I declined. His attorney then asked whether you would agree not to contact any trustees or Meade beneficiaries while settlement discussions were pending.”
A short laugh escapes me. “That’s subtle.”
“No. It does tell us your silence matters enough for Tate to put it through counsel.” Jai gives me a moment before continuing. “I don’t know whether he realizes you’ve figured out why he needs the thirty days.”
Simon crosses the room and sets his water beside me, then sits far enough away that I don’t feel crowded.
“I’ll call Celeste.”
“Keep the details off the phone. Remember what she knows before you call her. As far as we can tell, Tate hasn’t told his family you filed for divorce.”
My stomach drops as another problem occurs to me. “She thinks I’m pregnant.”
Simon frowns.
Jai is quiet for a moment. “Probably, if Bernard and Judith have told her.”
They almost certainly have. Tate and Charla must have started the performance sometime after Saturday’s dinner. On Saturday night, Bernard was still discussing my failure to conceive. By Wednesday, Tate was comfortable taking Charla to Bellweather as his pregnant wife.
“She doesn’t know who you are either,” I say.
“Then you’ll have several things to explain. Your studio at five?”
“Yes.”
After we disconnect, I keep the phone in my lap while Simon sits beside me. “Celeste thinks I’m pregnant. She doesn’t know I filed, and she has no idea I’ve had a divorce attorney quietly working for me.”
“That’s going to be a difficult conversation.”
“Excellent analysis.”
He smiles. “I have others.”
“Keep them.”
Simon hands me my other boot. “Coffee?”
“Coffee, breakfast, and possibly protective equipment.”
He gives me a gentle smile. “I own helmets.”
“Naturally.”
“Several.”
I give him a look as I stand. “Stop helping.”
His laugh follows me toward the bathroom.
A little while later, I sit at Simon’s kitchen island with coffee in front of me while he cooks eggs. My phone rests beside the mug with Celeste’s name on the screen.
I dial before I can rehearse the call into something impossible. She answers on the third ring. “Christa? Are you okay?”
Her concern is immediate and specific enough that I know my guess was right. She thinks I’m pregnant. “I’m okay.”
“Mom told me you weren’t ready for everyone calling, so I’ve been trying to give you space.” Background noise fades as Celeste moves somewhere quieter. “I’ve wanted to check on you all week. How are you feeling?”
I grip the mug a little harder. She means the pregnancy she believes I’ve been hiding. “That’s part of why I need to see you.”
Celeste reacts immediately. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
Simon looks over from the stove. I shake my head before he can come closer. “There isn’t a baby. I’m not pregnant.”
Silence follows.
“What?”
“I need to explain in person.”
“Mom said she and Dad saw you Tuesday.” Confusion sharpens every word. “She said Tate told them you’re having a boy.”
My stomach twists. Tuesday, the day after Tate was served. “That wasn’t me.”
Celeste doesn’t answer for several seconds. When she does, she sounds more worried about me than angry. “Christa, what do you mean?”
“I’m not losing my mind. I’ll explain everything if you come to my studio at five.” I rub my thumb along the mug’s handle. “There’s more, and I don’t want to give you pieces of it over the phone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. You will tonight. I need my attorney there too.”
Another pause follows. “Your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of attorney?”
There’s no way around it. “Divorce.”
The silence this time lasts longer. “You’re divorcing Tate?”
“I filed Monday.”
“Oh my God.” I hear movement on her end, then a chair creaks. “Does Tate know?”
“He was served Monday afternoon.”
“Mom and Dad don’t know.” Celeste sounds as if she’s sorting through every conversation she’s had this week. “They think you’re pregnant. Tate told them you two had been under stress, and you needed space.”
“I’m sure he did.”
She exhales slowly. “I’ll be there at five.”
“Please don’t call Tate first.”
That stops her. “Why?”
“Because I need you to hear what happened before he knows we’re talking.”
Celeste hesitates, but when she answers, her voice is firm. “Okay. I won’t call him.”
After we hang up, I put my phone down beside the coffee.
Simon has turned off the burner. “Tuesday.”
I nod. “The day after he was served. Apparently, Tate decided the best response to a divorce petition was to take my twin to his parents and announce my pregnancy.”
Simon plates the eggs and slides one toward me. “He was establishing the story.”
“Yes.” I stare down at the food. “Celeste has spent three days believing I sat through that dinner Saturday already pregnant while her father discussed my uterus.”
He comes around the island and sits beside me. “Now she knows something about this week was a lie.”
“In a few hours, she gets to find out how many things.” I pick up my fork, although my appetite has disappeared. Having to dismantle Celeste’s entire understanding of the week isn’t something I can soften with the right words.
AT FIVE, MY STUDIO is locked, and the reception lights are off. Carol left half an hour ago after looking from me to Simon and clearly deciding she had questions I wasn’t going to answer.
Simon arrived with coffee for all four of us. Jai showed up a few minutes later carrying a slim folder.
I expected more paper. “That’s it?” I ask.
Jai places the folder on my desk. “Celeste needs enough information to make a decision. She doesn’t need every paragraph of the trust tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Simon takes the chair farthest from the desk. “Do you want me here for all of it?”
“At first. You saw Bellweather.” I don’t tell him not to mention the relationship between us. He’s sensitive enough to know not to yet.
He nods. “I’ll answer what she asks.”
The bell over the front door rings a few minutes later.
Celeste is standing just inside when I unlock the interior door. She’s still in work clothes, her purse tucked beneath one arm. She looks past me toward the hallway, and she notices Simon as soon as we enter the office. “Why is Simon Nichols here?”
“He saw something Wednesday that you need to know about.”
Her attention shifts to the woman beside my desk.
I gesture toward Jai. “This is Jai Shwara, my divorce attorney.”
Jai stands and offers her hand. “I’m sorry we’re meeting this way.”
Celeste shakes it automatically before sitting. Her attention returns to me almost immediately. “Mom says she saw you Tuesday. You say she didn’t. Start there.”
I take the chair beside her instead of moving behind my desk. “She saw Charla.”
Celeste stares at me.
“Charla went with Tate to see your parents. She let them believe she was me.”
Her confusion hardens into disbelief. “Why would she do that?”
“Because Charla is pregnant.” I force myself to keep going instead of making Celeste drag every fact out of me. “She’s eleven weeks along. It’s a boy, and Tate is the father.”
Celeste’s face loses its color as she looks at Simon.