Page 9 of Deliverance

Hotel it is.

2 Drew

“How hard can this be?”I mutter a sigh. My hands locked together on my lap are shaking.

“Unfortunately, these things happen, Drew,” Miranda Chen, the divorce attorney who’s been sucking my bank account dry for the past six months, says. “We discussed this early on. If that’s how he chooses to proceed, we’ll just have to make some adjustments to our plan.”

She’s a fine looking thirty-something-year-old woman from a wealthy Korean-American family that put her through Harvard Law School, and the only reason she’s charging me half her normal rate is because she’s Santiago’s friend. Although I’m afraid to ask how exactly she knows a hip-hop dancer who spent the first eighteen years of his life in East L.A. Perhaps it’s a story my best friend will share with me one day. When he’s ready.

I draw in a deep breath and shut my eyes for a second, looking for some peace within me. Miranda’s right. She warned me during our initial consultation that men like Rhys always tend to complicate straightforward divorces.

“I don’t understand why the judge can’t sign the damn papers and let me live my life? Why is it taking so long?” There’s a wobble in my voice and I feel a wave of anxiety rushing through me as I pull up the Uber app on my phone to order a car. These meetings are always so short and utterly unproductive.

Miranda gives me a strained smile. “It doesn’t work like that, Drew.”

“What do we do then?”

“I’m hoping we can get the judge to default the divorce.” She fumbles with a stack of papers sitting on her desk and checks her notebook. “It’ll probably save you some money too. I personally don’t see a point in wasting more resources on process servers.”

At least Miranda is honest, and I can appreciate that. Most divorce attorneys in California aren’t very truthful. Again, all this thanks to Santiago.

“Okay, then let’s get the ball rolling,” I say, straightening the soft fabric of my skirt over my knees.

“The waiting period is six months, Drew.”

I blink and wait for her to continue.

“If he doesn’t contest within this timeframe, the judge will grant you a divorce,” Miranda explains.

I allow the words to settle in. My heart is hammering inside my chest and my pulse is a maddening roar. It was stupid to think that putting two thousand miles between Rhys and me would make any difference. His hold on my sanity and my life is just as strong as it was three years ago when we shared a two-bedroom house back in Rockford.

“There’s no way to speed this up?” I ask quietly, knowing that the answer won’t be the one I want.

Miranda shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. Especially since the two of you are in different states now.”

She smiles again, but this time the smile is warm and it reaches her eyes.

“And if he contests?”

“Then we go to court.”

A shiver zips down my spine. I don’t think I can face Rhys. Not after everything.

“Drew.” Miranda’s voice softens. “Don’t panic. It’s been years. If he hasn’t sought you out by now, he’s probably moved on.”

I want to believe her. Badly. But she doesn’t know Rhys like I do. She wasn’t the one who lived with him.

“I hope you’re right, Miranda.” I rise to my feet and adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder.

“Drew”—she stands up—“youwillget a divorce one way or another. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll call you with an update when I have it.”

We say our goodbyes and I rush outside, where my Uber is already waiting for me. The driver rolls down his window and verifies my name before letting me jump in the back.

He’s a quiet one and doesn’t try to strike up a conversation, which I’m thankful for. It’s the last thing I want to do after a meeting with Miranda. My mind needs a moment to slip back into that comfortable medium I’ve created for myself since my move from Illinois to California.

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