When I come into the kitchen, Roxy is sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and Miss Meghan asks her what she wants to do. I think it’s cute that Meghan gives Roxy options, even though it’ll be the same routine most days. They’ll go to the library for story time, go to the park, and then it’s home for naptime. Meghan will pick up around the house, but it isn’t a job requirement, and she’ll write a grocery list of things she needs so I can make sure the house is fully stocked. When Roxy is up from her nap, they’ll get Reggie from school. I really don’t put too much pressure on Meghan. Her only responsibility is to keep my children safe.
The A.I. announces that someone is coming to the door. I wait a few seconds before going into the hallway. The tell-tale sound of a key sliding into the lock gets my blood boiling. As soon as Elena and Reggie enter, I kiss my son on the top of his head and tell him breakfast is on the table. Once he’s out of earshot, I hold my hand out.
“What?” she asks.
“My key, I want it back.”
“You’ve got to be joking, Julius.”
“I’m not. Hand it over.”
She does so but with great reluctance. This is no longer her house, and just because her children reside here doesn’t mean she can come and go, as she pleases. More so, after the stunt she pulled with Autumn and my parents, I don’t want Elena showing up unannounced anymore.
“I’m assuming it’s okay if I ride with you to the lawyer’s office?” she asks.
“I’m fine with that, but you have to get a cab back because I need to go to practice.”
“You can’t drop me off?”
“It’s out of my way.” I leave her in the hall and head back into the kitchen. Reggie is sitting there, stuffing food into his mouth. “Slow down, Bud.”
“I’m starving.”
“What’d you have for dinner?”
He shrugs.
I know I’m not the best parent in the world, but I like to think I do a damn good job of keeping my kids fed. “Elena?”
“What?” She comes into the room and lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“What did Reggie have for dinner last night?”
Elena looks at our son and then at me. “Are you seriously monitoring me as a parent?”
“Yes,” I state pointedly. “When I see our son eat like he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday—yes, I’m going to ask what you fed him.”
“Unbelievable.”
I motion for her to follow me into the other room. She does so, but she’s agitated. “I will always look out for his best interest, Elena. You know this. You also know I’m one-hundred percent against him living with you because of this exact thing. I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet he had cereal for dinner. Sometimes that is a great dinner, but he needs more, and you need to be able to recognize this. I don’t know what’s going on in your head or when our children didn’t become a priority to you, but you need to figure it out. This is a fair warning—I’m going to tell the mediator that if Reggie is to go live with you—there needs to be a nanny, and the nanny’s fee will be paid out of the child support. That money is to support him, not you.”
“You can’t dictate how I spend my money.”
“I can, and I will. I didn’t have to agree to mediation, yet here I am footing the bill for this as well.”
“You’re just angry because I want a divorce.”
“No, Elena. I’m angry because you cheated. Had you come to me and said you weren’t happy I would’ve done whatever was needed to fix that. But you stepped out on us. You chose to bring another man into our bed. You chose to disregard our vows. And then you expected me to pay you off. That’s why I’m angry.” I walk away and head toward my bedroom. Before I close the door, I shout, “I’m leaving in ten minutes if you want a ride.”
Elena is still here when I come out. You’d think she would take a few moments and spend some time with her daughter, but Elena’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone while Roxy and Meghan clean up after breakfast.
“Thank you, Meghan,” I say as I come into the kitchen. I kiss Roxy, tell Reggie to have a good day, and remind him that I have a late practice. There’s a good chance he won’t be home and will be at his mom’s. Fewer rules there, I’m sure.
Elena follows me out the door and into the elevator. She sighs heavily, which I ignore, and finally, once we’re in the car, she starts talking. “Do you remember the first day we met?”
“I do.”
“I was so scared.” She looks out the window. “Where did we go wrong, Julius?”
“I do believe we had this conversation, Elena. I’m not interested in rehashing it over and over.”
She says nothing the rest of the drive to the lawyer's office. Once there, we go into a small conference room. My lawyer is sitting at the table behind a stack of papers. “Hello, Julius.” We shake hands.
“This is Elena,” I say to him. I thought I might slip up and call her my wife, but even my subconscious knows I’ve moved on. They shake hands, and then we all sit down. Elena is across from me, and the lawyer is at the head of the table.
“Okay,” he says. “We have a petition brought on by Julius to dissolve the marriage. Also on file is a prenuptial agreement signed by both parties. It is my understanding that we’re going to follow the prenup?”
I nod and then look at Elena. She’s looking down at the table and says nothing. “Elena,” I prod. “If you’re going to fight the prenup, then you need to hire someone to represent you. My lawyer is not going to go against my wishes of honoring the agreement.”
“Well, I was doing some research.”
This is not going to go well for me.
“And I discovered that Oregon is a no-fault state, so you can’t use adultery for the divorce, and therefore the prenup allows for me to get a settlement.”
“Yes, you’re right, Mrs. Cunningham. However, we have substantial evidence of you committing adultery, and if we take this in front of a judge, they’re likely to uphold the agreement.”
I can see her wheels turning. “What do you want, Elena?”
“Money, Julius. I want the money, and the lifestyle promised to me when I married you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We live like we’re running out of money. You make millions a year, and the only thing we have to show for it is a house in Huntington Beach. I want more. I deserve more.”
“You do realize that the average span of my career is four years and that is without any injuries, or some younger, faster version of me entering the league. Every day I go out onto that field, I’m lucky I still have a career. But this can change at any time. I need to earn as much money as possible to live a life after my career is over and take care of my family. I have two kids to put through college. Where do you think that money is going to come from? And who is to say I’ll even get a job after my career as a wide receiver is over? Do you think I want to sit on my ass at the age of thirty-five and feel sorry for myself because I didn’t get a commentating job? The reason I don’t spend money is so the money will be there when I’m older. I’m looking out for my future. And I never promised you anything other than to love you. I don’t know where you got that in your head.”