Every Wrong Reason(52)

I thought that was thoughtful of him. I immediately doodled my name and today’s date in the right-hand corner. Teacherly habit.

Nick took the seat directly across from me and I breathed a little easier with the heavy, wide table between us. Ryan ushered Marty Furbish into the room, showed him to his seat at the head of the table, then took his seat next to Nick.

We were officially ready to begin.

The beginning of the proceedings was beyond tedious. There was a lot of legalese spoken and a long retelling of everything I already knew. I was the plaintiff, filing for divorce, or dissolution of marriage. Nick had decided to be a jackass and make every single thing as difficult as he could so forth and so on.

Ryan slid me an itemized list of all of the material possessions Nick considered his. “Among the items we have listed here, which my client claims are his,” I began to peruse them slowly, ticking off everything with begrudging approval, “my client would also like full ownership of the house. Ms. Carter may willingly give up her portion or sell fifty percent of the appraised-”

“What?” My murderous glare found Nick’s and if looks could kill, I wouldn’t need to file for divorce, I’d be able to collect his life insurance.

Neither his stare nor his voice wavered. “I want the house, Katie.”

“But you can’t afford the house!”

“I can.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“You forget that I know what you make, Nick. You can’t afford it! Besides, you already agreed to give it to me!”

Mr. Cavanaugh tried to settle me down. “Ms. Carter, if you would-”

Nick spoke over him, “You have no idea how much I make, Kate. You don’t even know where I work.”

Ryan spoke over both of them, “If you look at this, I think you’ll see that my client is perfectly capable of paying for the cost of the house and any costs related to it.”

I looked at the next piece of paper that Ryan passed over. I rubbed at the numbers and figures laid out before me. I couldn’t make sense of them. I stared at them senselessly, hating that I felt close to tears again… hating that I felt stupid and unintelligent because I couldn’t comprehend them.

The room was silent as I absorbed Nick’s new salary.

Finally, with a gentleness I didn’t deserve, he explained. “I got a new job.”

“I can see that.” Hating that I snapped at him when he had been nice to me, I lifted my eyes and met his. “Where?”

“A record label.”

“A record label?”

“Thrash and Sway,” he continued softly. “They’re kind of an up and coming-”

“I know who they are.” And I did. I’d been married to Nick long enough to have an idea of who was who in the music industry in Chicago. Thrash and Sway Productions had been a dream for Nick. They produced the kind of music he played, they catered to the indie scene and they had a promising future. “So you work there?”

His smile was a little self-deprecating when he said, “I started as an intern. I fetched a lot of coffee. I mean a lot of coffee. I was promoted to an assistant shortly after I started and it was an actual paid position. I thought I would stay there for a while, but, recently I’ve been working with Mike Stanson; he’s a producer and director and he does some other stuff… anyway, they promoted me to a scout position recently.”

“It’s a dream job for you.” My words were nothing but a whisper. I couldn’t breathe through the thickness in my throat, the tears welling up inside me threatening to flood this room. Maybe the whole office building.

I felt betrayed. I felt tricked. I felt… stepped on.

No, trampled on.

This was what I wanted for him. This was what I wanted for years for him. I had never wanted him to walk away from music completely. I just… I didn’t want the late nights. The weekends that were wrapped up in shitty gigs that paid nothing. I was tired of the girls throwing themselves at him and the stench of smoke and booze. I was tired of the look on his face when he would come home… the one that said he knew better.

The one that cut me so deep I thought I would bleed out right there on the floor of our bedroom.

“It is,” his voice was equally quiet.

My vision blurred as the tears pushed to the surface. I blinked rapidly, desperately trying to keep them at bay.

“Kate,” he whispered. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“But you did anyway.”

“Can we continue?” Ryan’s smooth voice penetrated the stifled air and I jerked in my seat.

I’d forgotten there were other people in the room. I swiped my cheek with the back of my hand and struggled to compose myself.

“Let’s come back to the house,” Nick suggested. “Give her some time to think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” My voice trembled, but there was steel behind it. Grit. I would not back down.

That was my house.

That was the only beautiful thing I would get to walk away with after this.

“Right, we’ll come back to it,” Ryan mumbled sardonically. “Next up, joint-custody.” He slid more papers toward me.

“Joint custody of what?” I blinked at more papers that I didn’t understand.