“Hawaii, for starters. I’d rent some little shack on the beach and laze in the ocean all day long, or read books on the sand until I was as red as lobster.”
“That sounds perfect, when do we leave?” He buries his head in my neck.
“Where would you go? What would you do?” I ask, wanting him to play the game.
“Anywhere with you sounds nice.” I feel his smile against my skin.
“I’m serious.” I rub the back of his neck.
Walker seems to take a moment. “I guess I don’t really know. I’ve always just wanted to play baseball, and I love living in Packton. I never thought much about life after that. I just know I don’t want to be the owner of the Pistons.”
“I guess that’s something we should figure out together, then,” I tell him, and mean it. Breanna squawks for me on her monitor. “But for now, back to the real world.”
“You have to be in mediation today?” Walker asks.
I nod, taking one last precious second to breathe him in. “We’re talking about more assets today. Lord help me.”
I show up for mediation fifteen minutes early, arranging my water bottle and notebook on the table as Karla, my divorce attorney, situates her papers on the table.
“Have you heard from Laurel at all?” she asks, the conference room empty except for us.
“Nothing this week. They’re still trying to get the trial completely scheduled, and Shane’s lawyers are being difficult with their … discovery and evidence, I think Laurel said?”
The legal terms always confuse me, especially since I keep jumping back and forth between criminal and civil cases.
Karla nods. “Of course they are. You’re one strong woman, Hannah. Don’t forget that. So many of my clients would have recanted at this point, would have called everything off and gone back to the bastard. You haven’t wavered once. That means a lot.”
She doesn’t pat me or reach out to hold my hand, but somehow her words are so much better than any kind of physical comfort. Knowing a badass woman like Karla thinks that about me? It fortifies my shaky confidence at being in this conference room.
The glass doors of the room swing open, and three of Shane’s lawyers walk in single file behind one another. Shane isn’t here, but then again, I didn’t expect him to be. He hasn’t bothered to show up for any of mediation, instead deciding to wield his power from far off beaches since making bail. The judge at the initial hearing didn’t deem him a flight risk, and so the man gets to do whatever he pleases. The irony of it isn’t lost on me.
All three lawyers give a brisk nod to Karla, but don’t acknowledge me in the slightest. I wonder how someone could defend someone like Shane, from these guys to his criminal lawyers, but I guess everyone will go to some extent for money.
They go through the first few line items, of which include Shane’s World Series rings collection, our cars, and the vacation home we have in the Hamptons. He wants to keep all of them, and I have no objections. Sure, right now I have one of our SUVs, but it doesn’t bother me to buy some used middle of the line vehicle rather than the luxury one I have now.
Then they get to the house, and alimony, or child support. My hands begin to sweat, because these are really the only things that matter to me. Shane can take all of our material possessions, leave me without my jewelry, fancy clothes, or millions off his contract. I just hope he’s going to be honorable when it comes to the girls. He should give our girls a roof over their heads and enough money to cover his half of what their living expenses should be.
“My client is willing to provide a settlement of three thousand dollars a month until their daughters turn eighteen, to provide for their basic living expenses. He will keep the house, where they can stay with him during the designated weekends.”
I nearly choke on a laugh as disbelief settles in my veins. Three thousand dollars? Is this a joke? It would cost me two-thirds of that to find daycare once Dahlia eventually move son from being my babysitter, just so I could go to work and try to feed and house Noelle and Breanna. Not to mention all the extras, like healthcare and clothing and activities they wanted to try. And for him not to give them the house, or for us to sell it and split the profits of the sale? He’s trying to play with me, manipulate my mind, and get under my skin.
I hate that it’s working, and he’s not even in the room.
I’m about to say so, to have an outburst of epic proportions because the whole thing is just so preposterous, but Karla pats my knee. It’s as if she’s saying, I got this.
“Those terms are so outrageous, you have to know there is absolutely no way I would ever advise my client to accept them. Your client made over twenty million dollars last year. He has a legal obligation, especially when he’s trying to argue for joint custody, to take care of his children in the manner to which they’re accustomed to. As I’ve seen, and has been reported to the courts, he has now missed one visitation and cut another short. Your client is on thin ice. As such, you need to go back to the drawing board with him, and really make him think about our counter offer. Ten thousand a month in child support, plus the family home will be sold and split jointly between the parties. We have played fair ball, no pun intended, up until now. Mrs. Giraldi is not asking for more than she is owed, in fact, I’d venture to say she has been more than understanding given the circumstances in which she lived for the last five years. If our terms are not met, or resistance continues, we’ll have no choice but to take this to court. And I’m not sure your client wants one more court case on his plate. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”
With that, Karla stands and motions for me to follow her. We walk out, heads held high, and I thank my lucky stars that my parents helped me find a divorce attorney who just handed those chauvinistic pigs their asses on a silver platter.
26
Walker
“You seem like you’re somewhere else tonight.”
I reach out to lace my fingers with Hannah’s on the table.
Her eyes are unfocused until they swing to me. “Sorry, just thinking about the trial again.”
Ah. The thing that has been sitting like a five-hundred-pound pink elephant in the corner of my sun room since Hannah arrived. They finally set the date for Shane’s trial, bringing the charges related to what happened the night in the stadium parking lot. Of course, I’ll be called to testify, but that could be anywhere from the middle of spring training, to sometime during the season. So aside from being a stain on humanity, he’s also fucking with the baseball season, considering both myself and Colleen will possibly have to miss games or trips to be in court.
That’s the least of my worries, though. I can practically feel the tension and fear pouring off of her.
“I’m glad you could come over tonight, though. It helps being together.” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I don’t think it works.
“Me too.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
Dahlia agreed to babysit tonight, so at least Hannah and I can have some alone time even if she has to go home at the end of the night.
We agreed on takeout Thai food and a bottle of wine on my screened-in porch. It’s not yet spring, which means icy temps for Pennsylvania, but I’ve got the heater going. Plus, the architect who built my house made this entire room of glass, including the ceiling. It’s pretty damn romantic to look up at the stars under candlelight, and anything I can do to woo this woman is what I’ll do. Especially with everything that’s weighing heavy on her mind.