Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
But with all that set aside, what has me rattled today is not the fact that Naomie might become a fixture in my son’s life; it’s how today is going to affect Kingston. So far, Bowie and I have been good about working around each other’s schedules, but I’m concerned that having something in writing might change that. I also hate the idea of missing out on any time with my baby, especially holidays, and I know I won’t have a choice in giving some of those up.
With another deep breath, I push open my door and get out of my car. Since I have work after this, I wore my black bootie heels, my black jeans that end just above my ankle, and a black wraparound sweater with my long emerald-green jacket over it to fight off the chill in the air. I’m sure I look like I’m going to a funeral, but I guess in a way I kind of am.
When I get into the courthouse, I go right to the desk to check in after going through the metal detectors and then walk through the door the woman behind the desk sends me to.
The small courtroom is empty, so I take a seat in one of the chairs at the back and wait for Bowie and the judge to show up.
Hearing the door open behind me, I turn to watch Bowie step inside, and he gives me an awkward smile that I return with one of my own.
“Did Kingston get off to school okay this morning?” he asks as he takes a seat in the aisle across from me.
“Yeah, he’s always excited to spend time with his friends.”
“He seems to really like it there.”
“He does, and it’s good. I’m glad he’s doing this now; that way, the transition into preschool after this summer will be a little easier.”
“Me too.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Does he know I’m picking him up?”
“I told him,” I say, and he looks like he wants to say more but decides not to and looks at the front of the room.
I take out my phone when it dings and smile at the text from Emma.
You & me. Saturday night.
The photo attached shows two women who are obviously wasted with party hats on, one wearing a sash that says Divorced.
Texting her back:
I’ll think about it.
I tuck my cell away just in time to watch a female officer in an unflattering khaki uniform step into the room from a door at the front, and a second later, the judge steps in right behind her.
“You can approach,” the officer says, and my stomach twists and my hands tingle as I get up and walk to the front of the room ahead of Bowie. As I take a seat at a desk on the right side, Bowie does the same on the left.
“I received the paperwork from both your attorneys this morning, and it seems you’ve come up with a custody arrangement that is currently working for the two of you,” the judge says, looking between Bowie and me, and I nod. “With both of you working, I understand there will be times you might have to deviate from your set schedule, so I’m going to assume that will continue, even with the agreement in place.”
“It will,” I say softly, and I see Bowie nod out of the corner of my eye.
“As for holidays, that’s always the most difficult part of an agreement. I understand no one wants to give up their time on those days, so I’m going to put down that you will each have every other holiday throughout the year, and each year, you will switch so that it’s as equal as possible.”
I nod, even as my hands tighten into fists.
“Take these down to them,” he tells the officer, and she brings a stack of papers to me and a set to Bowie. “Once you’ve both confirmed that you agree on those days, just sign those papers.”
I look over it, the information that’s not much different than what my lawyer showed me just a few days ago, only adding that Bowie will get the first Thanksgiving, and I’ll get Christmas, and so on and so forth, so I sign.
“Child support is set for four hundred dollars a month,” the judge says, and I bite my bottom lip, because that money isn’t even enough to cover the bills but is much more than I was expecting to get. “Now, for your divorce.” The judge looks between Bowie and me. “I have to ask that you’re both sure this is what you want.”
“It is,” I say, catching Bowie nod out of the corner of my eye.
“All right, just sign the papers Angie is going to give you. We’ll get that finalized, and you’ll be free to go about your day.”