Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I dragged my hands down my face, wiping away the sweat that dripped from my hairline.
Cleo opened the door again, this time alone. She closed the door gently behind her and looked at me.
I didn’t tell her to leave even though I didn’t want to see anyone right now. I lifted my chin and looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes, the same concern my mother had shown me growing up. My eyes were wet, and she probably saw that, so I turned back to the window.
She kept her distance for a while, and when I didn’t yell at her, her heels tapped against my hardwood floor as she made her way closer to me. She stood there for a while, saying nothing, and then she walked into the hallway.
I had no idea what she was doing.
She came back and set something on the table. “I put this on your desk. It might help.”
I turned around and looked down at the paperback. How to Deal with Difficult People. I stared at it for a few seconds before I looked at her.
“There’s a pretty long chapter about your situation, dealing with a difficult spouse when a child is involved. Maybe it’ll help, maybe it won’t. At least it’ll make you feel less alone.” She straightened, her hands coming together at her waist, holding herself with perfect poise, wearing high heels like they were flats.
I moved to the chair and took a seat, too exhausted to stand.
She looked at the phone on the floor and grabbed it. Her quick inspection yielded the same assumption I’d already made. “I’ll replace it. I’ll leave it on your coffee table, so it’ll be ready for you in the morning, all your contacts, emails, and messages transferred.”
I stared straight ahead, my blood still pounding.
When I didn’t say anything, she pulled out the chair and took a seat beside me. “I should have reminded you about the appointment. I’ll text you next time.”
It wasn’t her fault, but I didn’t have the energy to say that.
She stared at the side of my face, her blue eyes narrowed in concern, her lips pressed tightly together like my features made her wince in pain. Her expressions made her easy to read, even when she didn’t speak. “I’m here…if you want to talk about it. Or I can make you an appointment with a therapist—”
“I don’t need a therapist.”
She didn’t flinch at my outburst.
“I just…” I dropped my hands to the table, my breathing slowly returning to normal. “I don’t know what to do. When a problem doesn’t change, you change your attitude about the problem…but I can’t just let this go.” My thoughts flowed out of me like words on a page, which was miraculous because sometimes it was difficult for me to put even a few words together. “I can’t just stop caring and abandon my son.”
“There’s no rational excuse for her to be acting this way.”
Exactly. Which was why this was so difficult for me. I didn’t understand emotion. I only understood facts and logic, and as far as I could tell, I didn’t deserve this at all. “She’s punishing me because I left her…”
“But she cheated—”
“Because I don’t love her. She wants me to love her, but I don’t. I can’t.” I had no idea why I was telling Cleo this. She’d been in my home, looked through my clothes, had seen the porn I jerked off to, but I really didn’t know her that well. There was just something about her that made me open up. “So, she wants to take away the one thing I do love…”
“That’s not right.”
I stared at my hands.
“There has to be something we can do—legally.”
I shook my head. “Judges always side with the mothers. That’s a fact.”
“There’s no such thing as absolutes—and that’s a fact.”
My eyes shifted to her, surprised by the unequivocal statement she’d just made.
“Let me help you.”
“I’ve got skeletons in my closet…” It would be public record, and something that should be kept private would be widespread news. Everyone would know about my lowest point, and I might lose the respect of my colleagues, of the younger generations that looked up to me as a role model.
“We all do, Deacon.”
“I can’t do this in a court battle,” I said quietly. “I’d be willing to live with the shame if I got Derek, but it’s the reason I won’t get him.” The judge would never grant me custody. I’d be lucky to get 50%, but more than likely, I would get none. There was no outcome where it worked in my favor.
She didn’t pester me about it. “Then we need to be diplomatic about it.”
“I’ve tried talking to her—”
“Give it time, Deacon. How long have you been divorced?”
“Two months.”
“Wound is still fresh. Think about it that way.”