20. Chapter 20
twenty
“Laurel, I call bearing good news. Your husband underestimated you. Us. We’ve got the goods on him.” My attorney, Meredith calling from Nashville.
“Goods? Like what?” I glance at Bowie in the den, scribbling on white paper with his crayons, Mom supervising his artwork.
“Were you aware your husband does cocaine?”
“Grant? No.”
She shifts some papers. “Maybe he just started after you left, but I’m looking at a picture of Grant Prescott in a bar bathroom, head down over the counter. There’s a rolled-up bill by his hand and white residue on the edge of the sink. You tell me what that looks like.”
I can’t believe it. Did I drive him to that? I don’t think he did drugs when we were together. Do I have to carry that weight, too? I drove him to drugs?
“It’s my fault.” My voice cracks.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Meredith’s tone sharpens. “Everything’s not your fault. He’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions.”
“What are you going to do? Wait until court? Or hit him with it now?” I glance into the den to be sure Bowie’s still coloring with Mom.
The sooner this is over, the better.
“We’re discussing that now. Hold on.” She covers the phone mouthpiece to listen to someone who stepped into her office, and I hear her say, “Okay. In a minute.”
Then she comes back to me. “If this goes before a judge, Grant’s looking at potential criminal exposure, and when he sees the pictures, he’ll know it.
So, my first move is a meeting between counsel.
If we think we can get a resolution there, I suggest you offer him a compromise.
He drops everything, including petition for joint custody, in exchange for a sixty-forty split of the assets.
He’ll ask for seventy. I’d stick to my guns.
We’ll insist on child support based on his income, which is obviously substantial. ”
“So, this could actually be over soon?” I’m almost afraid to hope.
“Grant Prescott is smart,” she says flatly, “but he has a weakness that runs rampant in men like him. Over-confidence. He is so used to steamrolling over everyone, in and out of court, that he didn’t see you fighting back. That will be his downfall. What do you want to do about the house?”
“He can have it.”
“But he pays for your share of the equity.”
“Fine. But the truth is, I don’t want to succeed on Grant’s money.” I stare at the wall, the truth of it settling in my chest. My freedom within reach.
“I want him to provide for his son. That’s really all I want. He’ll have visitation rights, but given that photograph, he needs to see Bowie with me around. Or my parents. Not alone. He has to come to Texas to see him. I’m willing to meet in Austin or Dallas.”
Hanging up, watching Bowie—an unexpected heaviness settles in my chest.
I’m really doing this. I am taking him away from his father.
We only get one father.
Should I have stayed? Taken whatever I had to take to let him grow up with his father?
Then I remember those pictures of him with that woman.
Then, the photo of Bowie with Calder. How comfortable they were together, and I realize, if Bowie grows up under Grant’s influence, no matter how grounded I am, he might end up being just like his father. Arrogant, entitled, manipulative, self-absorbed.
Contrast that with Calder, who sacrifices naturally. He’s a volunteer firefighter. He’s inspecting the stadium for the school district, just because he wants his town safe.
Is he sacrificing us now?
Yes and no. He’s afraid he could cost me Bowie, but he’s also afraid I’ll hurt him.
I won’t.
I will not leave him if he’ll just try again. I made up my mind the night we kissed. I want Calder Boone to fall back in love with me, and I’m going to win back his trust.
It’s the first thing I tell Mercy when I meet her before the school board meeting. I told her about Meredith’s call earlier.
“You two. I swear.” She tsks. “I’ve never known any couple like you.”
“We’re not a couple.”
“You’ve always been a couple, Laurel, even when you were married to someone else.
That man hasn’t let a single woman get close to him since you left.
Now you’re back and he’s just flat-ass afraid of letting himself feel anything.
It’s not a game to him, Laurel. He was here earlier.
There’s nothing but pain in him. You haven’t told me what happened after I called Tanner, but I know Tanner called him and I know you both well enough to know—something happened between you that night.
I swear to God, he’s lost five pounds since I saw him at the hospital, and he’s not coming around the Dust Devil. You know what that means.”
“No. What does that mean?”
“He doesn’t trust himself to drink.”
“Why doesn’t he trust himself to drink?”
She looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “That’s right. Maybe you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“He did a year in jail when we were in college.”
My stomach nosedives. “You told me he got into trouble you never said he did time.”
“Well, he did. They were all drunk.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. A fight. I got the impression some guy said something about you.”
I can’t catch my breath. “I had no idea.”
“It was in Stephenville. You were in Houston and I was in Austin. I never knew until I moved back here.”
“But he went to jail for defending me?”
“Hell, I don’t know, Laurel. I know he went to jail.”
I don’t care.
No way in hell am I not winning him back.
I look down at the jeans I’m wearing and remember what Mom said the day I arrived, lean back in my chair and sigh.
“What’s the matter?”
“What I’m wearing.” I tug at the collar of my blouse as if it personally betrayed me. “I look like a TikTok mom doing a ‘don’t judge me’ video.’ He won’t notice me in the crowd supporting him.”
“Laurel.” She deadpans. “He’d notice you in a toe sack.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.” She stands, already moving toward her apartment in back, like she’s been waiting for this moment all her life.
“What have you got I can borrow?” I call after her.
“Honey,” she snorts, “the better question is what don’t I have.”