Her breath fogged up in the crisp autumn air, and she buttoned her jacket. Winter was on the breeze, a fact for which she was thankful as she currently carried around excess weight that made her slim-fit suits tight in all the wrong places. She had to get to the gym, but God only knew how that was going to happen in her new life as a single mother.
Divorce wasn’t something she’d asked for; for certain, she’d never dreamed of sitting in this boat alone. As taught by her mother, marriage was supposed to have been a lifelong commitment. She had tried so hard to make things work—man, had she tried. And he’d made so many promises that things would be better. It had even been his idea to enroll in counseling, and she had thought things were getting better—at least they’d resolved things enough to get back to a state of being partners if not lovers. She’d tried like hell to get past his infidelity, tried to reclaim the trust she’d once invested in their marriage, but when the court papers arrived demanding child support for his mistress’s newborn, the proverbial camel’s back buckled. Now, it had been fourteen months since she filed the divorce papers, and the day had finally arrived. She shouldered her bag a little higher, tucked the scarf around her neck, and strode purposefully for the courthouse, feeling a sense of relief after the long months of negotiation.
Her divorce attorney, Kristi, met her at the foot of the steps. “Are you ready?”
Calli answered, “My stomach is in knots, and I can’t tell if it’s from excitement or nerves.”
In a weak attempt at offering comfort, Kristi rested a hand on Calli’s shoulder and smiled warmly, professionally—a patronizing look that Calli had grown increasingly disenchanted with over the course of their attorney-client relationship.
Kristi said, “I’m certain it’s a little of both. You have been through an ordeal with this.” Eyeing Calli sideways, the lawyer tilted her head toward the door and added, “The meeting should be straightforward. Let’s get it over with. They’re already inside.” The lawyer climbed the steps in her stilettos.
Calli watched her, wondering about the last time she’d worn stilettos. Of late, she’d opted for flats to accompany her more comfortable pant suits. Just as she was moving to follow, her phone beeped—a text message. She needed to silence that anyway, so she pulled it from her bag and glanced at the screen and the group chat.
Jordan:You got this girl!
Jordan:
Me:Yeah. I do.
Me:
Tory:Happy Divorce Day!!! So good to see DB go!!!
Jordan: Remember everyone, drinks tonight at Moretti’s . . .
“Calli?” Kristi called.
Calli hit mute on the group message and slowly climbed the steps to follow her lawyer. Her friends were maybe too supportive of her divorce. Calli had tried to make the best of her marriage for the boys’ sakes. That effort had proven difficult, and she’d been pretending for too long that things were okay. Then, everything had exploded once she’d filed for divorce. Calli kept trying to return to a state of civility with her soon-to-be ex-husband, but she had often vented to her close group of girlfriends. They were mad on her behalf.
Her lawyer waited at the top of the steps, holding the door. “This can be the hardest part of the entire process. Long, deep breaths,” the lawyer said.
They entered the courthouse and walked down the long stone hallway. Paintings of current and former black-robed officials lined the walls; each pair of dutiful eyes seemed to judge her situation as she passed. Kristi turned into a suite to the left and Calli followed. In the arbitration room’s waiting area, a young blonde girl behind the desk held out her hand toward the conference room. She and Kristi exchanged pleasantries, and Calli tried to smile but said nothing.
Calli’s separation and now divorce had been a grueling process, but they’d managed to work everything out through arbitration, so there was no need for a courtroom. Inside, Bennett and his lawyer sat at the far side of the table in identical staunch black suits. Bennett also wore his smug look—the one filled with arguments that he’d adopted over the years—the one that told Calli how inconsequential she was to him and made her feel small. It hadn’t helped when he finally admitted during one of their more epic arguments that she didn’t matter to him. She raised her chin to show she no longer felt little around him. This was a business deal, and she’d act the part.
The tall and lanky arbitrator, Mr. Freeman, shook hands with Calli’s attorney, then repositioned his glasses on his hooked nose and opened a folder. He extracted two packets from the folder and placed one in front of the men and one in front the empty chairs where Calli and her lawyer would sit.
Calli shrugged out of her coat and took a chair. Kristi had already walked her through the list of agreements, arrangements, and legalese so many times that the information was almost rote. Today was simply a review to allow for any final disputes or disagreements. It was excruciating.
Bennett’s mask of solemnity never wavered. And Calli schooled her face to remain as serene as his through techniques she’d practiced with her therapist time and time again. It was like Lamaze for the to-be-divorcée. Today’s meeting reminded Calli of when they’d closed on their first house in the perfect upscale and desirable neighborhood—a legal arrangement in which they had had to initial every page individually and then sign at the bottom.
Closing legal deals like this is an everyday ordeal for Bennett, Calli thought. He closed corporate deals in his job as VP of Mergers and Acquisitions at least once a week. She, on the other hand, had only done it a handful of times in her life. She steadied her pen in her lap before raising it to the tabletop to sign. She exhaled slowly as she inked the final signature.
When all was said and done, Bennett stood with his lawyer, buttoned his coat, and extended his hand toward Calli. His lawyer extended a hand in a mirror image toward Kristi. The lawyers shook hands. Calli stared at her ex’s, then raised her gaze to his icy blue eyes and lifted a brow. As tempting as it was to brush him off, she slowly accepted the gesture. To her surprise, it did seem like sealing the deal and moving on to her next chapter. Her ex-husband left, but Kristi and the arbitrator kept chattering.
Calli grabbed her coat and bag and walked out the door. She crossed the waiting room and sank into one of the empty chairs, letting her bag fall to the floor. The chipper blonde receptionist asked if she could get her something to drink.
“Not unless you have a nice peppery Zinfandel,” she answered and dropped her head back to the wall, closing her eyes.
When she sensed someone taking the seat beside her, the bitter almond and vanilla scent of the Tom Ford Fucking Fabulous perfume wafted toward her. Calli squeezed her eyes tighter, thinking, That’s the smell of tens of thousands of dollars out the window. Callie opened her eyes to Kristi’s patient stare.
“One more stop. Almost there,” the expensive attorney said.
Out the reception area and down the hall, past the entrance to the courthouse, Calli and Kristi approached the county clerk seated behind a long counter with glass dividing the office from the customers. Kristi produced the papers Calli had signed and slid them through, then looked at Calli expectantly. After rummaging through her bag, Calli produced a check for $180, a minor drop in the bucket of debt she’d incurred to fund the divorce. The paper trembled as she laid it on the counter.