“So… some reporter could end up writing that Neil was cruel or inhumane to me?”
“It’s possible,” she concedes. “But he said you two want this divorce to happen fast. My plan would be to file your complaint at four twenty-seven p.m., in anticipation of the four thirty deadline, in the hopes that no reporters are lurking about in the vestibule when the clerk opens the file.”
“And what if there are reporters there?”
She shrugs. “Maybe they won’t pick up on his name when the clerk reads it out. Maybe she has a soft voice. We’ll hope for the best.”
Oh boy. Hoping for the best is not a strategy. My whole life is proof of that. I can already picture the gossip blogs posting some story about him, trying to make a link between hockey players and domestic violence.
They’d put Neil’s face on it. He could even get in trouble with the league.
I shiver. “This is madness.” I ignore my coffee and pick up a tiny sandwich and shove it in my mouth.
She smiles. “Delicious, right? I love the crunch.”
Maybe this is all a weird dream. Maybe I’m still asleep on Fiona’s couch. “Okay—tell me this. Why should I be the one who has to sue? Can’t he sue me?”
She stares. “You’d rather be the cruel and inhumane spouse? Whatever for?”
“Because…” I swallow hard. Because I’m already the bitch in this situation. “Because nobody cares what I do. But people write things about Neil. His family is scrutinized.”
“I don’t see how that’s your problem,” she says, her cool grey eyes boring into mine. “But to answer your question, the law works either way. Neil has volunteered to fall on this sword for you. He said he promised to get the divorce done, and this is the most expedient way of doing that. Would you like me to draw up the documents?”
“Um…” My head is spinning. Can I really do this to Neil? Can I turn him into an abuser just to expedite my freedom?
“Look,” the lawyer says. “I can see on your face how much you hate this. Honestly, it’s a pleasure to deal with two people who don’t actually hate each other. But you’re in a sticky situation, hon. And Neil Drake is trying to help you get out. He has a pile of cash so high that nobody can even see over it. That’s probably why he doesn’t mind this route. He was very clear. ‘Do whatever it takes,’ he said. And when a man wants to take responsibility, I say you should let him.”
“I should let him,” I repeat dully. “Okay. Fine. You should go ahead and draw up those papers.” I’ve complicated my own life, as usual. And now Neil’s. I’m essentially homeless again. And there just isn’t enough air in this cafe. I need to get out of here.
I reach for my wallet and dig out a ten.
“Oh honey, don’t. I’ll put it on Neil’s tab. He can afford it.”
He can, and so people always put everything on Neil’s tab.
When I go through with this divorce, I’ll be doing the same thing.
But worse.
THIRTY-THREE
IT’S NOT ALWAYS YOUR TURN
Neil
“How is she?” I demand of Anton.
“She’s fine,” he says, handing me a light beer.
I throw some money down on the bar. “Can you be a little more specific?” I press. “Did she look happy? Tired?”
“Dude,” Newgate says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Let the man sit down before you interrogate him.”
Anton chuckles. “Yeah, we need a table. Hey—Newguy, grab that one.” He points towards a booth that’s opening up, and our teammate moves toward it.
We’re in Philly, where we just eked out a win. No thanks to me. It’s pushing midnight, but the hotel bar has beckoned to us.
I go to follow Newgate, but Anton stops me. He puts my money back in my hand. “You don’t always have to buy.”
“It’s not my turn?” I shrug.
“Nah, you take too many turns. Come on, let’s sit down and have a little chat.” He nudges me toward the table.
I sit down opposite him and take a sip of beer. My body is tired, and my nerves are fried. I’ve spent a long week wondering if Charli is okay. But when I text her, I get only terse replies.
Anton had happened to mention that he saw her last night, so now I need answers. “Okay, tell me what you know,” I demand.
“Charli is doing all right,” Anton says slowly. “But I can tell it bugs her to be crashing on Sylvie and Fiona’s couch. I tried to sit on the floor to play cards, and she made me take her chair.” He rolls his eyes. “A man doesn’t let a woman sit on the floor, you know? But a man doesn’t win arguments with Charli, either, so…”
Oh, I know. “What else? Does she look tired?”
“Don’t we all?” Newgate asks. “You sound like a crazy stalker right now, by the way. She’s a grown woman. Can’t she take care of herself?”
“She wouldn’t be in this situation if I hadn’t screwed up her life. She wouldn’t have given up her apartment…” God, everything is such a mess.
“Yeah, the apartment thing is tough,” Anton says. “They’ve been trying to find a situation for her where somebody needs a roommate. But no nibbles yet.”
I nudge his foot under the table. “Isn’t it about time you and Sylvie moved in together? Then she could take Sylvie’s place across the street.”
“Whoa!” Newgate hoots. “You’re going to marry off poor Bayer, so your ex has a place to live?”
“They are stupid in love.” I point my bottle at Anton. “I don’t want him to be like me. Don’t fuck it up, man.”
Anton laughs. “Take a breath, cowboy. As a matter of fact, Sylvie and I have big plans to move in together. I’m buying the studio from my cousin, but we need to do some renovations. So that means me staying with Sylvie for a while before she can give up her place with Fiona.”
“Well, fuck.” I set down my beer. “I’m happy for you. That’s big—you’re buying a place together.”
He beams. “We sure are. And an architect is helping us convert that loft into a real bedroom. The place is a little small, but we want to keep our spot in the building.”
“Nice,” I say, forcing my smile. “Congratulations.”
A short while ago, I thought I didn’t want what Anton has. I ended things with Iris because I wanted freedom.
But I was dead wrong. I don’t want freedom, I want Charli. But now I’ve screwed things up so badly that she’ll never take me seriously.
I pull out my phone and google apartments for rent in Brooklyn. “Hey, Newguy? How’d you find your apartment?”
“Some broker found it for me. I shoulda asked more questions, though. The location is all right, but the neighbors are noisy. Kids, man.” He shakes his head. “Why do people have those?”
I’m not listening. I’m zooming in on the part of Brooklyn where Charli would most like to be. There are plenty of listings, but most of them are way over Charli’s budget. She said she needed to pay about twelve or fourteen hundred dollars.