Page 77 of Theirs to Treasure
She drops into the chair on the other side of the desk from me.
My training period is over, and today I’m working in her back office.
I’m so glad that she’s given me a flexible work schedule. On rainy days, I love working from home. But most times, I like coming to the shop because I get tired of staring at my apartment walls.
My home is perfect for a single woman with an outside job. But for a woman working at home and with a baby on the way, it’s a little cramped and will be more so when I have a crib and changing table in my tiny bedroom.
“Sorry.” With a smile, I wiggle my mouse to wake up my screen so I can logout. “I was just finishing up.”
“How are things going?”
“Good. I love working here. Are you pleased with my progress?”
“One hundred percent. We’ll be having a trunk show for one of our expectant mother’s line, and I’m counting on you to model.”
When she’d said so previously, the idea was a vague concept, but now that it was a reality…
“You’ll be perfect.
I’ll have to take her word for it because I’m not feeling it.
“Still not sleeping well?”
As usual, she’s observant. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not to everybody,” she promises. “Anyway, let me know if you want to go shopping at the baby furniture store on Sunday.”
I remember the excitement I’d had when Zev, Forrest, and I were planning to decorate the nursery. I wish I’d remembered to ask Zev if they’d kept the appointment.
Is the room ready for the baby that I will now have to share custody of?
The unwelcome thought makes my pulse stutter.
Amelia is called to the front of the store, and I wish her a good evening.
At home, a manila envelope has been shoved beneath my front door.
Frowning, I pick it up, and blood rushes from my body.
I recognize the name of the sender, a prominent Houston attorney who seems to involve himself in every big case. He’s represented billionaires and politicians and made his mark suing everyone from governments to big corporations.
Dazed, I sink into a chair at the kitchen island and open the envelope and pull out a sheaf of papers.
I don’t read the whole thing, but highlights of the proposed arrangements for our child leap out at me.
Forrest will be the custodial parent, and I will have visitation rights and be allowed to keep the child one weekend a month.
Suddenly Zev’s words about Forrest, the ones that have played on my sympathies, turn to ash.
He’s a ruthless son of a bitch who plays to win and doesn’t give a damn that me and our child are collateral damage in his evil, manipulative game.
Still, if he thinks I’m going to give up without a fight, he doesn’t know a single thing about me.
I pick up a big red, fat marker and uncap it to write two words on the proposal. My strokes are thick and satisfying. Then I tear the pages in half and shove them back into the envelope that I seal with packaging tape.
Since I won’t be satisfied with dropping it off at the post office, I grab my keys and open my navigation app.
Once I type in the address of the attorney’s fancy office, I’m on my way.