Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Taylor: Hey, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.
I think about ignoring it but instead I text her back.
Me: Hey, yeah, sorry, been swamped at work.
I don’t put anything more in the text and put the phone away, before looking up and seeing a couple of people walk in. We don’t have anyone working on Sunday since the kitchen is closed, so it’s not too big of a crowd. Closing up the bar and wiping down the tables, my head immediately goes to her.
When I pull into my driveway, my eyes automatically go to her house. Seeing it’s just nine, I expect for there to be lights on in her house, but it’s dark. If her car wasn’t in the driveway, I would think no one was there. “At least she’s home,” I tell myself, the tightening in my chest coming on. “At least she’s safe.”
CHAPTER 12
Harmony
“Have a good day.” I kiss his head before he runs off into the schoolyard. His bag is thrown in the pile of other bags as he goes to the field with his friends. I hold on to the fence with one hand as I try to keep everything locked up until I get home. The weight of the papers is heavy in my drawer. Papers I read quickly when I got them and then rushed yesterday to get us out of the house, with fear that Winston would show up. So instead, I drove us to the next town over where we had a picnic. I watched my son kick around his soccer ball and then got up to toss him the ball for over two hours.
I don’t think I slept more than six hours in the past two days, opting to sleep on the couch, waiting for the car to show up. Waiting for Winston to come and cause a fucking scene. Fucking Winston, I think to myself. If he hadn’t given me Wyatt, I would have seen him for the useless excuse of a human he was sooner.
The bell rings and I blink away the burning at my eyes, watching Wyatt’s brown hair bounce as he runs with his friends to the pile of school bags heaped on the ground. Each of them grabs their respective ones when he takes a second to look at me and shouts, “Bye, Mom!” Then he lines up and walks in the door. Only when it’s closed, and all the kids are inside, do I walk away and head to the car.
My head is down as I make my way over to my house, letting myself in and running up the steps, two at a time. Going into my room and right to my drawer, I move my clothes around until my fingers grab the thick white folded papers. My neck gets hot as I walk out of the room and head down to the kitchen. Taking my phone out of my back pocket and sitting down on the chair, I unfold the papers, my hands shaking as I read the top of the pages, Montgavin County Court. My stomach lurches, and I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing.
My eyes open and see Winston Cartwright is the plaintiff, and Harmony Cartwright, defendant, then my eyes go lower, seeing why he’s suing me this time.
Custody of child, Wyatt Wallace Cartwright. My eyes scan the paper, and I see I have seven days to respond to this petition, and then a court case will be assigned. I close my eyes and then take out my phone and open the browser to search for lawyers near me. I click on the first one and wait for it to ring. The receptionist answers. “Hi,” I say nervously. “I’m calling for some information,” I start to say. “I was wondering if there was a lawyer I could speak to in regard to a court case that I have coming up.”
“That would depend,” she answers. “What type of case?”
“It’s a custody case,” I tell her and wait for her answer but quickly add in, “and if you do have a lawyer, can I ask what the rate would be?”
“We have someone who specializes in that and he charges three hundred and fifty dollars an hour,” she states, and if I had anything in my stomach, I would lean over and throw up. “If you want to give me your name and number, I can have his secretary call you back to discuss a couple of things.”
I close my eyes. “Sure,” I reply, even knowing I won’t be able to afford that, especially since I know how the Cartwrights work. They will postpone and postpone, over and over again. We’ll get to court and they’ll come in and ask to file another motion, and I’ll have to pay my lawyer for showing up. “It’s Harmony Cartwright.”