A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(73)
“You honestly don’t have to wait. I can Uber home.”
“Not a fucking chance, Queenie. If Corey pulls any bullshit, I’ll be right here.”
“I’ll be fine.” I shoulder my purse, checking again for the file folder. I’ve been doing that compulsively since I got in the car, as if it’s going to magically disappear and I’ll be married to Corey for the rest of my life.
Last night I had a dream that we were chained together and that our skin had started to fuse and I could never separate myself from him. I woke up screaming at four a.m. and did not go back to sleep. Hence I’m jittery, since I’ve had about seven cups of coffee.
Corey ends up being twenty minutes late, which is not a surprise. He also brings his fiancée along.
“Is the entourage necessary?” I ask as he drops down into one of the chairs at the table, not bothering to pull out a chair for Sissy.
“I want to read everything over to make sure you’re not trying to take my baby’s money,” she snaps.
I roll my eyes. “All I wanted six years ago was to separate myself from him completely, and if Corey hadn’t messed it up by not paying the damn filing fee, we wouldn’t be sitting here at all—”
“Ha!” Sissy barks out a fake laugh. “Of course you’re trying to make it Corey’s fault! We all know that it was you who took off without making sure the papers were properly filed. And he told me it was you who didn’t pay the fee, not him!”
Of course he’s spun it so it’s on me and not him.
“Is that what he told you?” I wave my own question away. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon enough what you’re getting yourself into.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Corey clears his throat, looking somewhere between annoyed and uneasy. “She’s trying to get under your skin, Sissy. Maybe you wanna go get yourself a coffee or something?” He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and peels off a hundred-dollar bill.
Sissy snatches his entire wallet and pulls out a handful of bills, then tosses it on the table. “Coffee makes me have to pee. I’m going to Saks. Pick me up when you’re done.” She waddle-flounces out of the room.
“Hope you got a prenup.” I turn back to the lawyer, whose time we’re wasting. “Okay, let’s make sure this is done correctly this time so I don’t end up smeared all over the news for keeping you ‘tied down’ for another six years.” I make air quotes at Corey.
“You’re the one who ran away.” He takes the papers his attorney’s given him and flips through. “Whoa, hold on a second here. What’s this about a hundred K? I’m not giving you shit.”
“You might want to reconsider that, Corey, since you’re the reason we’re still married, and your fiancée launched an unfounded public smear campaign, which means I can no longer work for the team.”
“That doesn’t mean you deserve money!”
I snort, because that’s an epic joke. “The crap I’m dealing with as a result is the opposite of wonderful. The ironic thing is, if your fiancée didn’t air our dirty laundry to anyone who would listen, I would’ve signed these papers and asked for nothing. But now, after all this, asking for a hundred thousand dollars is small in comparison. I’m sure you can spare it from your endless bank account to help right your wrongs.” He opens his mouth to speak, and I hold up a finger. “Choose your words carefully, Corey, particularly in front of our lawyers. Do not think for a second that you can push me around or belittle me. I am not an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, and your BS isn’t something I intend to deal with ever again, after today. Remember, we’ve been ‘married’”—I use air quotes again for emphasis—“for six years, and we did not have a prenup. My lawyer told me I could technically go after half of your income from all those years if I wanted to. So do not push me.”
He has a whispered conversation with his lawyer, frowning the entire time. Eventually he huffs a breath. “Fine. You can have a hundred K: that’s chump change for me. Don’t spend it all on new tits.”
“Wow. You are absolutely disgusting. Good to see some things don’t change.” I scribble my signature on every page, slide them aggressively toward Corey, and slam the pen down in front of him, wishing I could stab him in the hand.
I wait until Corey signs each page, which takes forever since he writes like a six-year-old who’s half-asleep. Then he wire transfers the money directly to my account while my lawyer’s paralegal makes a copy of the papers for me. I gather my things and push away from the table, shaking the lawyer’s hand. “Thank you for freeing me from the shackles of misery.”
“You’re welcome.” He fights to hide a smile.
I hightail it out of the office and speed walk as calmly as I can down the hall. I just want to get as far away from Corey as possible.
“You still think your Boy Scout is gonna want my used goods?” he calls out after me.
I want to turn around and kick him in the balls, but we’re in a law office, and that would be grounds for some kind of charges, so instead I ignore him and keep walking.
I know I’ve made the right decision. While some may think I’m being opportunistic in asking him for that money, he cost me my job and a whole lot of dignity with the horrible things Sissy said about me. I have a right, after the public humiliation that follows me online and will probably follow me forever now. If anyone were to do a search of my name, they’d find this, and who knows what future damage that could cause.