Arrogant Devil(86)
“Wait…” Meredith says, frowning. “How’d you find out about all this? Aren’t you supposed to be in San Antonio?”
“Sheriff called me, let me know what had happened. I rushed here as soon as I heard about it.”
Her eyes narrow on my rumpled clothes then her gaze falls to my bloody knuckles.
“You rushed straight here?” she asks, picking up my hand to inspect it.
Her bottom lip juts out as she examines the damage. It’s nothing.
“I might have made a quick stop at the police station first, but I did bring you the souvenir I promised.”
It’s one of those plastic police badges they pass out to kids on school field trips. It proclaims the wearer to be a Junior Deputy Sheriff. I’m pretty sure it’s legit.
“Welcome to the force.”
Her blue eyes whip up to me. She isn’t impressed. “Jack!” she admonishes. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything to Andrew.”
“All right,” I say, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Jack!” She groans as I head toward the kitchen. I need to clean my knuckles off.
Edith is in there, sitting at the table, sipping her tea.
Meredith tries to recruit her onto her team. “Your grandson bloodied his knuckles in a fight with Andrew!”
Edith seems barely interested.
“Technically, it wasn’t a fight,” I say as I run my hand under cold water. “I punched him once and knocked him out.”
Now that elicits a smile from Edith.
Meredith points her finger at the two of us. “You two! I swear! Violence is not the answer—you can’t just go around blasting shotguns and knocking people out.” She’s pacing now, getting herself real worked up. “What if he presses charges? What if he gets the cops involved?!”
I remind her that the cops are already involved.
“What if you go to jail?!” Her eyes go extra wide then and her hand shoots to her mouth.
There’s no talking her down. I tell her everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, but she doesn’t believe me until we get a call from the sheriff a few hours later informing us that Andrew is dropping all charges.
I put him on speaker and we all listen. Apparently, my lawyer came up with half a dozen charges to counter with, things like trespassing and disorderly conduct. He even went so far as to accuse Andrew of stalking and informed him that Meredith would be filing for a restraining order. Whether or not these charges would stick in a court doesn’t matter. Whatever Andrew expected to find in Texas, I’m sure it didn’t include Edith and me. My suspicions are proved right when he leaves a heated voicemail for Meredith that night, informing her that he thinks they should behave like adults from this point forward.
“Sign the damn papers and let’s get this over with,” he implored, right before the voicemail cut off.
She drops the signed paperwork in the mail first thing Monday morning.
29
Meredith
In the end, I have to take money from Andrew. When they drew up the divorce papers, he and his lawyer worked out a figure that was deemed more than adequate compensation for our five-year marriage. If you’re wondering, it was $500,000. To Andrew, that’s pennies. To me, that’s half a million dollars. Half a million shirts I don’t have to fold. Half a million plates I don’t have to wash. Still, I would have turned the money down altogether, but my lawyer made it clear that the quickest way forward would be to agree to their terms and move on. If I wanted to decline the money, I’d have to draft a new set of documents and pay the requisite legal fees. I don’t exactly have money to burn at the moment, so…fine, whatever. I’ll take it.
I’ve thought a lot about what I’ll do with the money, but it’s obvious, really. The second it’s deposited in my account, I’ll be donating to three different women’s shelters around Central Texas, the region I’m happy to call my new home. I know I could use the money to pad my savings account or buy a house or start a business, but it doesn’t feel right—not only because I don’t want Andrew’s dirty money anywhere near me, but also because I don’t need that money. Most women in these shelters have no one by their side. I know how that feels. I was there once not long ago, and if my money can help lighten their load even a little, I’m more than happy to send it their way. Also, in case you think I’m doing it for completely selfless reasons, I also get a kick out of the fact that Andrew’s money is going to help these women. He’d hate it. He doesn’t have a philanthropic bone in this body.
Anyway, the fact that I’m giving his money to those women makes me smile at least twice a day. If I didn’t want to leave well enough alone, I’d ask the organizations to each build a new wing: The Andrew Wilchester Shelter for Women Escaping From Andrew Wilchester. Who knows, I still might. It’s not like his rage can hurt me anymore because—*cue confetti drop*—our divorce was finalized today.
I got a call from my lawyer at 1:35 PM and I sank down to the floor then wept like a little baby. It was totally unexpected. If someone had asked how I would react when I got that call, I would have assumed I’d pop some champagne, blast Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies”, and dance until I got a cramp in my side. Instead, I crumbled into a heap of tears and snot. It was like when Frodo finally dropped that damn ring into the fire after three long-ass books full of trouble for himself: It’s over. It’s done.