Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
The signage out front makes no sense. Ditcher, Quick, and Hyde: Attorneys at Law.
Barrett is the only attorney in the office, and I know he named his office this because of the nasty divorce he got less than a year after he got married. It was the talk of the town. High school sweethearts who got married not long after graduation, and the marriage didn’t even last through the summer. He was divorced before he started pre-law at Texas A&M. Rumor around town if you ask anyone about it is that he hasn’t dated since.
I wouldn’t say the man hates women, but there’s a hint of something in the name of his law firm. What I do know is that he’s a bulldog in court, and if there’s anyone that will fight Madison on this damn invoice, it’s him.
The bell over the door chimes, but I’m otherwise met with silence.
“Barrett?” I yell down the hallway.
Instead of saying anything, the man just appears at the end of the hallway.
“Damn,” I say as he walks toward me. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
He grins, his white teeth flashing but it looks more like a sneer than a smile.
“Can’t say the same for you. When did you start getting gray hair?”
I lift my hand to the right side of my head, self-conscious of the white strands there. I noticed them a few weeks ago. They stand out against my otherwise dark hair.
“Kids,” I mutter, lowering my hand to shake his when he offers. “How have you been?”
“Living the fucking dream,” he says.
“Watch your mouth, young man!”
I grin as I look past him to see Mrs. Hyde shuffling toward us.
“You still have your granny working for you?” I chuckle as he drops my hand. “Hello, Mrs. Hyde.”
“Well, well, well, if the Lord hasn’t answered my prayers, sending such a handsome young man to sweep me off my feet.”
“I don’t think that hip of yours could handle being lifted off the floor, Grams,” Barrett mutters, but he gives her a wide berth, knowing that the smack for his language is still coming.
I lean forward and hug her delicately, making small talk for a few minutes.
“What brings you to the office?” Mrs. Hyde asks as she shuffles toward the chair behind the front desk.
She has always been Barrett’s biggest champion. She sat in the stands for every game he played. She cheered louder than anyone else when he walked across the stage at graduation and screamed even louder after his valedictorian speech. He said once that he worked so hard in school because he needed the scholarships. Grams was stuck with him after his parents died, and he didn’t want to burden her financially. He got a full-ride scholarship and came back home the second he graduated to take care of her. I give him shit about her being around, but the man knows the true meaning of family.
“I needed to talk to Barrett about something,” I tell her.
She pats my arm that way only an elderly person can. “You don’t have to tell me, dear. I’ll just read your file later.”
I huff a laugh as Barrett rolls his eyes before waving me down the hallway toward his office.
“I should get on your ass about using a different attorney for your divorce, but I see it would be pointless now that you and the wife are back together,” he says after closing his office door and making his way around his desk.
“Our divorce was final last week,” I say. “She relinquished her rights.”
“How much did it cost you?” he asks rather than trying to get details about what kind of woman would give up her kids.
“Too much,” I mutter.
“I would’ve been able to get you a better settlement,” he says with full confidence even though he doesn’t know the details.
“I didn’t know you were licensed to practice in Michigan.”
Silence fills the space between us, but he seems more pensive than insulted. I didn’t mean it that way, but I wasn’t joking when I told myself I was leaving Emily and everything about her in the past. We settled everything in Detroit, and I’m moving on. I know there will come a time that the boys will ask, and I still haven’t decided what to say. I’m not the type of guy to trash talk anyone, but I’ll also find it very difficult to find anything nice to say about her. What I do know is I have to make it about Emily and not about the boys. They don’t need to go through life thinking they aren’t worthy of their mother’s love.
“You’re done with her for good?”
I scrape a hand over my head. “Supposed to be. She signed documents that should keep her from speaking to the press, but if I know Emily, she’ll find a work-around. She always found a way to get her name in people’s mouths.”