Page 7 of Trading Up
“Petey,” I shook his hand also, before turning to introduce Sarah to my friends, “This is Jenson, a very well-known divorce attorney, and his friend Petey, who helps him with his information gathering.” She looked at me, confused for only a second before recognition clicked behind her eyes. They welled with tears as she smiled up at me. We moved back some, letting them come in. As I closed the door behind them, she wrapped her arms around me. I could feel her trembling as she held me. I took a deep breath, burying my head in her hair.
“Thank you,” was all she choked out, barely a whisper, wetness on my shirt. It felt right in her arms, but I hated that she was crying. Let’s get this dinner over with, so we can get to the meat and potatoes of the night.
Ice cream and the depths of his betrayal.
F I V E: Psychological Warfare
Sarah’s POV
After dinner and getting the boys down, Jenson and Petey sat us down to go over everything in the file they brought. It really looked like it could have, or should have, been two files; there was so much in there. It probably should have been with what they uncovered in just a few hours.
She was the only one. Paloma.
They had a Facebook page, though. It detailed quite a bit after they’d been together the first year. Before that? Sporadic posts, pictures of the same two people without faces, but I knew that man’s body well enough to know what every inch of him looked like naked. I knew it was him. I watched everything play out in front of me. Fancy dinners, hotels, trips, the excitement of an ultrasound photo, then the heartbroken announcement of a miscarriage.
The friends list they had was atrocious. His father was on there, our mutual friends, women I thought were actually my friends, and his best friend. His mother was there. It was a small group, but it was enough to know that the closest people in our lives all knew that he was having an affair and said nothing. I sat there, not quite numb, but not quite livid. It was more of a quiet rage that was burning inside of me, simmering below the surface, that not a single person in my entire life bothered to speak up and tell me, or to try to stop the affair.
Two years.
Two fucking years.
While I felt like I was floundering in motherhood, raging emotions that I felt way too deeply from watching as the boys became best friends and walking, holding hands, and having sleepovers in Carter’s bed, to the frustration of them beating the crap out of each other, or smearing poop on their walls and beds, having to do mountains of laundry that never seemed to get any smaller. I wanted to cry, and I did, at more things than I could count in my lifetime. Most days, I struggled to get out of bed.
Row was the one who got me back into seeing my therapist after Mav was born. Will was starting to pull away a few months after he was born, telling me he was overwhelmed and overworked between taking care of the business and having to come home and ‘do everything’ himself here, because I ‘couldn’t be bothered’. Row was the one who didn’t let me get swallowed up by my own head and emotions. They’d been physical and official for two years, but she’d been working at the company for at least four years.
Who knew how long it had really been going on, or when it started. I didn’t care; I just wanted to be done. I wanted my kids, to be able to sell the house and split it fifty-fifty, and get an apartment for the three of us. Maybe a small house in a decent neighborhood if I could swing it.
“We’re going to keep digging. Usually, when they’re this deep in the affair and the affair fog, because you haven’t noticed, they’re usually doing other things. Like hiding money or misusing marital funds.” Petey said, and I just nodded, then started shaking my head.
“I just want out,” I said honestly, my voice shaking only a little as I looked at the evidence strewn across the table in front of me, “I don’t need him or his money. I just want the kids and tosell the house so we can split it.” He and Jenson nodded, making notes on a legal pad he had with him.
“The thing about divorce,” I held my hand up and shook my head.
“He hasn’t been a present father since it was just Carter. A few months after Maverick was born, he started pulling away even more. Row was the one who was there and more of a father than Will.”
“He’s named Will, but he won’t do anything he promised in his vows to her,” Row muttered under his breath.
“I just…” I paused, not sure where my thoughts were. They were all over the place. I knew I needed time to get my ducks in a row, and I needed the money to do that. I also needed to see if I started my company now, if that would be considered marital property.
“Can I do a singing telegram when he gets the papers? Or could I do it at a big celebration? Maybe a singing telegram when he’s on vacation with his mistress?” I was on a roll now, “Is psychological warfare on your husband illegal?”
“Depends on what your definition is,” Jenson sounded exasperated already. This was going to be a long process.
“Just messing with his mind. Gaslighting him. Making him think I know about his affair, or that I’m seeing someone else. If I start my own business or invest in something while still married, is he entitled to any of that?”
“Once you’re legally separated, you can do whatever you want. But I highly suggest waiting until you’re separated. Anything done while stilllegallyin this marriage could be usedeither against you or to get more money from the divorce.” He looked tired, but this was going to be straightforward.
I promised to have my financial statements for him on Monday morning so we could start the process. I didn’t want to drag this out for long. Just long enough to get an idea of what was really going on in my marriage, a fair settlement from him, and my freedom from someone who had been less than ideal for the last few years. We shook their hands as they left. Petey promised he’d get some more surveillance done while I planned and tried to get things done here. Things such as mine and the boys' documents and as well as moving small things that wouldn’t be noticed by Will.
He probably wouldn’t notice too much anyway. He’s hardly ever home anymore, and when he is, he’s so distant with us. Row and I sat on the couch, plotting, coming up with petty ideas and lists of things that I needed to either get rid of or pack away in a storage unit. We had wine, ice cream, and he watched The Notebook with me as I cried over the love these two fictional characters shared. A love that I craved and wished for.
I stayed at Row’s house for two days. We went home Saturday night because I finally got a text from Will asking if we were going to be home or stay somewhere else again. He’d always been insecure about Row until we had kids. Row had always been my best friend.
Two days with my bestie.
That’s how long I stayed, plotted, and planned with Row. He hyped me up, telling me that I could do this, that I could put the mask in place while gathering information because I needed the information. I needed an airtight case with all of the solid evidence I could gather from his home office. Will’s family had me sign a prenup before we got married. It was to ‘protect usboth’ and to ‘be fair in the event of a separation and divorce’. I wanted to laugh, because if I didn’t, I would cry.
Again.
